Can System Prompts Be Cultivated?

"Di! WeChat payment received: one million two hundred thousand yuan."

"Settled in full, not a cent short."

Wang Tie's eyes went wide as he listened.

Lin Feng wasn't in a hurry to check his phone. He leaned against the wall, surveying the weapons hanging around the cave.

"Old Qian, got any decent blades for sale?"

Old Qian was stashing cloth-wrapped items into a cabinet. He turned back at the words.

"You want to buy a blade?"

"Yeah, a long blade. The sturdier, the better."

Old Qian gave Lin Feng a once-over, chuckled twice, shoved the iron chest into a corner, and walked to the left wall. He yanked down a covering cloth.

Behind it hung over a dozen long blades, varying in size and material.

"This one, forged from Dark Iron Alloy, E-Rank weapon. Can withstand full-force infusion from a Martial Artist Rank 2. Five hundred thousand."

Old Qian took down a pale gray long blade and patted its spine.

Lin Feng took it, hefting it in his hand. The weight was solid, the materials substantial.

But E-Rank was just a stepping stone for him—he'd have to swap it out before long.

"Got anything better?"

Old Qian raised an eyebrow, walked to another wall, and pulled down a long blade whose scabbard was engraved with runes.

"This one's a good piece. D-Rank, Cold Abyss. I bought it off a retired martial master. The blade is forged from Deep Sea Cold Iron, can withstand blood and qi infusion at the martial master level. When drawn, it naturally carries a chilling effect."

Lin Feng unsheathed the blade. The body glowed with a faint blue light. As his hand gripped it, a chill shot from his palm up his forearm.

A fine blade.

"How much?"

"One million five hundred thousand."

Lin Feng slid the blade back into its scabbard and returned it to Old Qian.

One million five hundred thousand. He only had one million two hundred thousand on hand.

Even if he spent it all, he'd still be three hundred thousand short.

What's more, he couldn't sink all that money into gear.

Xiao Yu was at home waiting for him to send money back—tuition, living expenses, rent. None of it could be cut off.

He did the math. He had to set aside at least four hundred thousand to send home. That was the baseline.

With a budget of eight hundred thousand, buying a D-Rank weapon was far from enough.

And buying an E-Rank? Pointless.

He was at Martial Artist Rank 2 now and still climbing. An E-Rank weapon wouldn't last long before it was junk.

Wang Tie chimed in from the side: "Old Qian, got any cheaper D-Rank stuff?"

"D-Rank stuff, where's the cheap?" Old Qian rolled his eyes. "You think this is a street stall?"

He paused after speaking, as if something came to mind. He crouched down and dragged out a dusty wooden box from under a stone table.

When the box opened, a long blade lay inside.

The scabbard had two cracks, barely held together with wire wrappings.

When the blade was drawn, the edge showed several chipped gaps, the biggest one big enough to fit a fingernail.

But faint dark-gold patterns rippled along the spine. The material's luster was on a completely different level from those D-Rank blades before.

"This one's called Mountain Splitter. A-Rank. Forged from Red Copper Spirit Ore mixed with Obsidian. Originally a Martial King-level war blade."

Old Qian flicked the blade with his fingernail. The sound was dull, carrying a metallic hum.

"Half a year ago, a Great Martial Master came to sell it. Said he clashed dozens of times with an A-Rank Exotic Beast inside a Rift. The spirit patterns inside the blade snapped. Can't channel blood and qi anymore. It's dead."

He flipped the blade over, revealing a deep crack on the reverse side.

"Once the spirit patterns break, it loses its soul. Good materials alone won't cut it. To repair it, you'd need a master-level smith. Just the labor cost would be several million, and there's no guarantee it'd even work."

"So after I took this blade in, I kept it buried at the bottom of the box. Never sold it."

Lin Feng picked up the blade and examined it closely.

It was heavy—even heavier than the Cold Abyss by a noticeable margin.

The material was genuinely good. Even with the spirit patterns broken, its sheer physical hardness outclassed D-Rank weapons by a tier.

As he turned it over in his hands, a ding suddenly rang in his mind.

[Damaged weapon detected: Mountain Splitter (A-Rank, spirit patterns broken)]

[Host may consume Martial Path Points to repair the weapon's spirit patterns]

[Repair requires Martial Path Points: 50]

Lin Feng's hand paused for half a second.

Martial Path Points could repair weapons?

And only 50 points?

He lowered his head and quickly scanned the panel.

[Current Martial Path Points: 50]

Just enough.

Lin Feng's heartbeat quickened by two beats, but not a trace showed on his face.

He placed the blade back in the box, looked up at Old Qian.

"How much for this one?"

"Eight hundred thousand." Old Qian raised a finger. "Don't complain about the price. The material alone for the blade is worth that much. Even if you don't repair it, using it as a regular weapon is still better than D-Rank."

"If you ever come into money and get it fixed, that's a complete A-Rank War Blade, market price nearly ten million."

Wang Tie leaned in, muttering under his breath. "Eight hundred thousand for a broken blade? Are you crazy?"

Lin Feng ignored him, staring at Old Qian.

"Seven hundred fifty thousand."

Old Qian wrinkled his nose, tapping his fingers on the edge of the box a few times.

"Seven hundred eighty thousand, can't go lower. I paid seven hundred fifty thousand for this blade back then, held it for six months, didn't even count the interest."

"Deal."

Lin Feng pulled out his phone and transferred the money over.

Old Qian took the payment, closed the wooden box, and handed it to Lin Feng along with the box.

"Young brother, you're straightforward. If you've got more goods, come find me again."

Lin Feng transferred another four hundred thousand to Xiao Yu.

Message: Xiao Yu, your brother's doing fine. Take the money and spend it, don't hold back.

The remaining twenty thousand in change, he kept as his own pocket money.

Wang Tie watched with a pained expression but kept his mouth shut.

The two left Old Qian's cave, walking along the side alley toward the exit of the pit bottom.

The Black Market was bustling with people, all kinds of auras interweaving.

Lin Feng carried the box under his arm, walking at an unhurried pace.

Wang Tie followed beside him, muttering to himself.

"Seven hundred eighty thousand for a broken blade. If you can't fix it later, you're screwed."

"It can be fixed."

"You know a forger?"

"Don't need one."

Wang Tie's face was full of question marks. He wanted to press further, but Lin Feng had already quickened his pace.

When they reached the edge of the Pit Bottom Plaza, Lin Feng's steps faltered.

Three figures in black cloaks blocked the stairway ahead, standing spread out, sealing the upward path.

The one in the middle was the biggest, half a head taller than Wang Tie. A pair of calloused hands showed beneath the cloak, resting on the hilt of a blade at his waist.

"Brothers, a word."

The voice wasn't loud, carrying a seasoned politeness.

Wang Tie moved closer to Lin Feng, lowering his voice. "They've got their eyes on us."

Lin Feng shifted the box to his left hand, his right hand hanging naturally at his side.

"Speak."

The big man smiled, taking a step forward.

"At Old Qian's place earlier, you guys unloaded some good stuff, right? Body Tempering Pills, E-Rank Magic Cores. I heard it from outside."

He reached out, opening his palm.

"Leave the goods. You can go. Black Market rules—once you're out of Old Qian's door, the goods go to the quick hands."

Lin Feng swept his gaze over the auras of the three.

The leading big man: Martial Artist Rank 3.

The tall, thin one on the left: Martial Artist Rank 1.

The short, fat one on the right: Martial Disciple Rank 9.

"The goods are already sold." Lin Feng tucked the box tighter under his arm. "You're too late."

The burly man froze for a moment, then let out a snicker.

"Sold, huh? Well, the money's still on you, right? We're not greedy—just hand over half, and we'll all be friends."

Wang Tie took half a step back, his hand already on the hilt of his blade.

Lin Feng's hand never moved.

"Fine. Wait a moment."

The burly man's grin widened.

Looks like we've got two cowards today.

"Little brother, you sure know how to play it smart..."

He didn't finish.

A broad blade swung straight at his face.