"Ding! WeChat received 1.2 million yuan."
"Cash on the spot, not a cent less."
Wang Tie heard him, and his eyes went wide.
Lin Feng didn't hurry to check his phone. Leaning against the wall, he looked over the weapons hanging on all sides of the cave.
"Old Qian, got any good knives for sale?"
Old Qian was putting the things from his cloth bundle into a cabinet. Hearing this, he turned around.
"You want to buy a knife?"
"Yeah. A long blade, and the sturdier the better."
Old Qian gave Lin Feng a once-over, chuckled, then shoved the iron chest into a corner and walked over to the wall on the left. He pulled down a covering cloth.
A dozen or so long blades hung beneath it, varying in size and material.
"This one's forged from Dark Iron Alloy. It's an E-Rank weapon and can withstand the full infusion of a Martial Artist Rank 2. Five hundred thousand."
Old Qian took down a long, gray-white blade and tapped its spine.
Lin Feng took it and weighed it in his hand. It was heavy enough, and the materials seemed solid.
But it was only E-Rank. For him, it was just a stopgap. He'd have to replace it before long.
"Got anything better?"
Old Qian raised an eyebrow, walked to the opposite wall, and took down a long blade whose scabbard was engraved with runes.
"This one's a real treasure. D-Rank, Cold Abyss. I got it from a retired Martial Master. The blade was forged from Deep Sea Cold Iron. It can withstand the infusion of qi and blood from a Martial Master, and every swing carries a chill that seeps into the body."
Lin Feng drew the blade. A blue glimmer shimmered along its length, and when he gripped it, a chill ran from his palm up his forearm.
A fine blade.
"How much?"
"1.5 million."
Lin Feng slid it back into its scabbard and returned it to Old Qian.
He only had 1.2 million to his name.
Even if he spent it all, he'd still be short by 300,000.
Besides, he couldn't pour all his money into equipment.
Xiao Yu was still waiting at home for him to send money back. Tuition, living expenses, rent—he couldn't let any of those go unpaid.
He did the math. He had to keep at least 400,000 to send home. That was his bottom line.
With a budget of 800,000, a D-Rank weapon was far beyond his reach.
An E-Rank one? That would be pointless, too.
He was already a Martial Artist Rank 2 and still advancing. An E-Rank weapon wouldn't last him long.
Wang Tie chimed in from the side. "Old Qian, got any cheaper D-Rank stuff?"
"D-Rank goods don't come cheap." Old Qian rolled his eyes. "What do you think this is, a street stall?"
He paused, as if remembering something, then crouched and dragged a dusty wooden chest out from under the stone table.
When he opened it, a long blade lay inside.
The scabbard had two cracks in it, and iron wire had been wrapped around it to keep it from falling apart.
When they drew the blade, they saw several chips in its edge. The largest was big enough to fit a fingernail.
But dark golden patterns shimmered faintly along its spine, and the sheen of its material was on a completely different level from the D-Rank weapons they'd seen earlier.
"This one's called Mountain Splitter. A-Rank, forged from Red Copper Spirit Ore mixed with Obsidian. It was originally a Martial King-grade war blade."
Old Qian flicked the blade with his fingernail. The sound was dull, yet it carried a metallic hum.
"Half a year ago, a Great Martial Master brought it in to sell. He said he'd gone toe-to-toe with an A-Rank Exotic Beast in a Rift and traded dozens of blows. The Spirit Pattern inside the blade broke, so it could no longer channel qi and blood. It was ruined."
He turned the blade over, revealing a deep crack along its back.
"With its Spirit Pattern broken, it's lost its soul. Great materials are useless on their own. To repair it, you'd need a master-level smith. The labor alone would cost several million, and there's no guarantee they could fix it."
"So after I bought it, I left it at the bottom of that chest. Never managed to sell it."
Lin Feng picked up the blade and examined it closely.
It was heavy—heavier even than Cold Abyss by a couple of notches.
The material really was excellent. Even with its Spirit Pattern broken, its sheer physical durability made it a cut above D-Rank weapons.
As he turned it over and over in his hands, a sudden ding rang in his mind.
[Damaged weapon detected: Mountain Splitter (A-Rank, Spirit Pattern broken)] [Host may spend Martial Path Points to repair the weapon's Spirit Pattern] [Martial Path Points required for repair: 50]
Lin Feng's hands stilled for half a second.
Martial Path Points could repair weapons?
And it only cost 50 points?
He quickly glanced down at his status panel.
[Current Martial Path Points: 50]
Just enough.
Lin Feng's heart skipped two beats, but he didn't let it show.
He put the blade back in the chest and looked up at Old Qian.
"How much for this one?"
"Eight hundred thousand." Old Qian held up a finger. "Don't complain about the price. The materials in the blade alone are worth that much. Even if you take it home and don't repair it, it'll still outperform a D-Rank weapon as an ordinary blade."
"If you make a fortune one day and get someone to fix it, you'll have a complete A-Rank war blade worth nearly ten million on the market."
Wang Tie leaned in and muttered, "Eight hundred thousand for a broken blade? Are you crazy?"
Lin Feng ignored him and stared at Old Qian.
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand."
Old Qian wrinkled his nose and tapped his fingers against the edge of the chest.
"Seven hundred and eighty. Not a penny less. I paid seven hundred and fifty thousand for it, and it's been sitting here for six months. I haven't even counted the interest."
"Deal."
Lin Feng took out his phone and transferred the money.
Old Qian took the payment, closed the wooden chest, and handed it to Lin Feng with the blade inside.
"You're a straightforward young man. Come find me again when you've got more goods."
Lin Feng transferred another four hundred thousand to Xiao Yu.
Message: Xiao Yu, I'm doing fine. Use the money, don't try to save it.
He kept the remaining twenty thousand for himself as pocket money.
Wang Tie watched with a pained look, but didn't say anything.
The two of them left Old Qian's cave and headed down the side alley toward the exit at the bottom of the pit.
People came and went through the Black Market, their various auras tangling together.
Lin Feng tucked the chest under his arm and walked at an easy pace.
Wang Tie followed beside him, muttering under his breath.
"Seven hundred and eighty thousand for a broken blade. If you can't get it fixed, you'll be out a fortune."
"It can be fixed."
"You know a blacksmith?"
"No need."
Wang Tie wore a baffled expression and was about to press him further, but Lin Feng had already quickened his pace.
As they reached the edge of Pit Bottom Plaza, Lin Feng's steps faltered.
Three figures in black cloaks blocked the stairs ahead, spread out to seal off the way up.
The one in the middle was the burliest, half a head taller than Wang Tie. Beneath his cloak, a pair of callused hands rested on the hilt at his waist.
"Brothers, mind stepping aside for a word?"
His voice was quiet, with the oily politeness of an old hand.
Wang Tie edged closer to Lin Feng and lowered his voice. "They've got their eyes on us."
Lin Feng shifted the chest to his left hand and let his right hand hang naturally at his side.
"Talk."
The burly man smiled and took a step forward.
"You two unloaded quite a bit of good stuff at Old Qian's just now, didn't you? Body Tempering Pills, E-Rank Magic Cores. I heard all about it from outside."
He held out a hand, palm up.
"Leave the goods, and you can go. That's how the Black Market works. Once you're out of Old Qian's door, the goods go to whoever's quickest."
Lin Feng swept his gaze across the auras of the three men.
The burly leader was a Martial Artist Rank 3.
The lanky man on the left was a Martial Artist Rank 1.
The short, stocky one on the right was a Martial Disciple Rank 9.
"I already sold the goods." Lin Feng tucked the chest more tightly under his arm. "You're too late."
The burly man froze for a moment, then chuckled.
"Selling them's fine, too. You've still got the money on you, right? We're not greedy. Give us half, and we can all be friends."
Wang Tie took half a step back, his hand already on his knife hilt.
Lin Feng's hand didn't move.
"Sure. Just wait a moment."
The smile on the burly man's face grew brighter.
Today, it looked like he'd run into a couple of cowards.
"Young man, you really know how to read the room—"
He never finished.
A greatsword came straight at him.
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