The First Customer

The final ray of the setting sun finally retreated from the bluestone pavement of the West District.

The market, which had been bustling all day, was like a beach after the tide had receded, leaving behind only a mess and a sense of desolation.

The crowds had dispersed.

The vendors had long since packed up their wares and left in twos and threes, leaving only the faint, sour stench of blood mixed with ale lingering in the air.

Su Chen remained sitting where he was.

On the gray cloth spread before him, nine small celadon bottles were arranged neatly, like silent sentries.

From the mouth of the last bottle, which remained uncorked, that orb of orange-red flame burned on tirelessly, serving as the only light source in this dim corner.

It was also the only source of warmth.

Time ticked away, second by second.

From noon until dusk, a full three hours had passed.

No one had shown any interest.

Those who occasionally cast curious glances his way, upon hearing his asking price of twenty gold coins, invariably wore expressions as if looking at a madman before shaking their heads and walking away quickly.

His initial confidence and anticipation had long since been worn away completely by this cold reality.

A chill, known as self-doubt, was spreading bit by bit from the depths of his heart.

Perhaps he had truly been mistaken.

Perhaps this so-called Rock Fire Seed was nothing more than a product of his own wishful thinking.

In this world where the strong reigned supreme, without strength, even the most ingenious "product" was nothing but a joke.

Su Chen lowered his head, looking at his thin, lonely shadow cast upon the stone slab.

He prepared to pack up his stall.

Just as he reached out his hand, ready to retrieve the bottle of flame he was using as a sample, a hoarse voice sounded before him.

"Young man, this fire... how much?"

Su Chen's hand froze abruptly.

He looked up.

A figure, appearing from nowhere, was already standing before his stall.

It was an old man, not tall, and even somewhat hunched.

He wore a coarse linen garment covered in oil stains and holes, his graying hair was a tangled mess, and his face was covered in deep wrinkles, like the bark of an old tree carved by a chisel.

Only his eyes, amidst their cloudiness, held a sharpness like that of a hawk.

His hands were large and dark, every inch of skin covered in calluses and burn scars, the gaps under his fingernails packed with black iron filings and grease.

This was... a blacksmith.

And an old blacksmith who had spent his entire life at the forge.

The old man did not wait for Su Chen's answer.

His gaze, from beginning to end, was nailed firmly to that quietly burning orange-red flame, unable to look away.

In those sharp eyes, there was first surprise, then scrutiny, and finally, it transformed into a focus bordering on obsession.

He slowly crouched down, his joints emitting a series of faint "clicks" as he moved.

He did not touch the jade bottle, but instead brought his weathered, aged face closer to the flame.

He observed it carefully.

He watched the color of the flame, the stability of its form—which was so steady it seemed frozen—and even flared his nostrils slightly, as if using his sense of smell to distinguish the purest heat radiating from the fire.

Su Chen's heart began to pound uncontrollably once more.

He did not make a sound, even holding his breath, fearing he might disturb this peculiar old man.

A long while passed.

The old man finally straightened up and let out a long breath.

That breath carried a scorching scent, as if it had come from the depths of a furnace.

He looked at Su Chen, a light flickering in his cloudy eyes that was impossible to describe.

"Good fire."

The old man spoke hoarsely; his voice was not loud, yet it carried an unwavering certainty.

"I have forged iron my entire life, and I have never seen a fire this clean."

He reached out his calloused hand and pointed at the flame.

"The color is pure, the fire's nature is warm but not fierce, and most rare of all, it is too stable. It is as steady as a hammer in a blacksmith's hand—it goes exactly where you point it, without a single bit of wasted heat."

The old man, word by word, had precisely identified the greatest advantage of the Rock Fire Seed.

These words struck Su Chen's heart like a heavy hammer.

All his previous self-doubt and unease were shattered into pieces at this very moment.

It was not that his product was inferior.

It was simply that those people before had no idea what they were looking at.

A surge of intense excitement welled up in his heart, and Su Chen's fingertips trembled slightly.

He forced himself to calm down and repeated the price in as steady a voice as he could muster.

"Twenty gold coins per bottle."

The old man's brows furrowed sharply upon hearing this price.

"Twenty gold coins?"

His face, weathered like the bark of an old tree, revealed a clear look of heartache.

"Too expensive... far too expensive..."

He muttered to himself, yet his gaze never left the flame, filled with struggle and reluctance.

"Young man, can... can you make it a bit cheaper? Ten gold coins, how about that?"

Su Chen remained silent.

He looked into the old man's eyes, which were filled with longing, and his heart was not entirely unmoved.

But he knew he could not back down.

This was not a simple matter of pricing; it was about establishing the value of his product.

Once he gave in, he would never be able to stand his ground.

He shook his head slowly, yet with absolute firmness.

"Old sir, this is already the lowest price."

His voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable persistence.

"Not a single coin less."

The muscles on the old man's face twitched, and a flash of disappointment crossed his cloudy eyes.

He stood up, his hunched back appearing even more desolate.

It seemed he was prepared to give up.

Su Chen's heart sank instantly.

Was his only hope going to be extinguished just like that?

The old man turned and took a step, but then stopped abruptly.

He looked back, staring fixedly at the flame, a fierce battle raging in his eyes.

He thought of his Black Iron Heavy Sword, which he had been forging for three months, yet could never temper into a perfect blade due to uneven heat.

He thought of those inferior beast fires, whose violent nature always burned away the spirituality within the refined iron.

A long time passed.

As if he had made a final decision, he stomped his foot hard.

"Fine!"

He turned back around, rummaged through his robes for a long time, and pulled out a heavy money pouch wrapped in coarse cloth.

He untied the pouch and poured its contents into his dark, calloused palm.

Each coin, stained with iron filings and grease, emitted a dull luster in the dim light.

The old man counted carefully, then fished out a few crumpled silver coins and a pile of copper coins from an inner pocket, finally managing to scrape together twenty gold coins.

He carefully held the money out toward Su Chen.

"Young man, I'll take this bottle of fire."

His voice carried a sense of desperate resolve.

Su Chen looked at the hand holding the gold coins, at the currency stained with sweat and hard labor, and a wave of indescribable bitterness and emotion surged in his heart.

He reached out and took the money.

It was heavy.

This was the first "official" income he had earned in this world through his own ability.

The weight of these twenty gold coins was far greater than he had imagined.

It was more than just wealth.

It was recognition, dignity, and the first cornerstone of his foothold in this cruel jungle.

Su Chen tucked the money away, then picked up the bottle of Rock Fire Seed and, along with the stopper, solemnly placed it into the old man's hands.

"It is yours."

The old man received the jade vial as if it were a priceless treasure, carefully replacing the stopper for fear that even a fraction of the heat might escape.

He clutched the vial tightly in his hand, and on that face etched with wrinkles, a genuine, satisfied smile finally appeared.

The deal was struck.

The heavy stone that had been weighing on Su Chen's heart for the entire day finally came crashing down.

He even felt an impulse to give the remaining nine vials to this respectable old man right in front of him.

But he knew he could not.

Business was not charity.

Just as Su Chen prepared to pack his things and leave, the old blacksmith, who had already turned to go, stopped in his tracks.

He turned back to look at Su Chen, a complex glint appearing in his sharp eyes.

"Young man."

The old man spoke in a deep voice.

"Let me ask you, how much more of this fire do you have?"

Su Chen's heart stirred as he pointed to the nine jade vials remaining on the ground.

"There are nine more here."

The old man's pupils constricted violently.

He hurried back, picked up one of the vials, and pulled out the stopper.

A cluster of identical, flawless orange-red flames rose up.

He picked up the third, then the fourth...

When all nine vials were opened and nine clusters of pure, extreme flames burned quietly on the small stall, the old man was completely stunned.

He reached out his hand, wanting to touch them, but fearing he might profane such perfect fire, his fingers trembled slightly in mid-air.

"They... they are all the same?"

His voice carried a trace of incredulous tremor.

Su Chen met his shocked gaze and nodded slowly.

The old man stared fixedly at the ten clusters of fire, then looked back at Su Chen.

After a long while, he let out a long sigh.

That sigh held shock, envy, and even the tone of a mentor guiding a junior.

"Young man, you are confused."

The old man shook his head, his face full of regret.

"How could you bring something this good to a place like this to sell?"

Su Chen was taken aback.

"This place..." The old man gestured to the sparse market around them, his tone laced with disdain, "is filled with rough men trading their lives for coin and some bottom-tier alchemy apprentices. What do they know of the value of this fire? In their eyes, the only difference between your fire and that smoke-belching trash is that yours is more expensive."

He held up the jade vial in his hand as if it were a rare, peerless treasure.

"This fire was not meant to be used for forging hoes and kitchen knives."

The old man paused, his aged eyes erupting with an unprecedented brilliance.

"It belongs in the pill furnace of an Alchemist!"

"Alchemist?" Su Chen's heart gave a violent leap.

"That's right!" The old man nodded heavily. "Only those noble Alchemist masters understand what a stable, pure flame means for the success rate of pill refinement! They would pay any price to obtain a good flame!"

The old man looked at Su Chen as if he were looking at an unpolished piece of jade.

His voice was lowered to a whisper, yet it exploded in Su Chen's ears like a thunderclap.

"Stop wasting your time in a place like this."

"Go to the Alchemist Guild in the city center, or... go to the Miteer Auction House."

"That is where it belongs."

"There, for this vial of fire, let alone twenty gold coins..."

The old man held up two calloused fingers and gestured.

"Double it—no, triple it, and there would still be people fighting to buy it!"

Miteer Auction House!

These five words struck like a bolt of lightning, instantly clearing away all the fog in Su Chen's mind!

He suddenly saw the light!

Clutching the heavy pouch of gold coins, he felt unprecedented waves of emotion rising in his heart.

He knew that the advice the old man had given him was worth a hundred, no, a thousand times more than these twenty gold coins!

It was a broad, smooth path leading directly to the truly high-end market.

"Many thanks for your guidance, old sir."

Su Chen stood up and bowed deeply to the old man.

This bow came from the bottom of his heart.

The old man waved his hand, a smile appearing on his face as if he had just completed a deeply satisfying task.

Without another word, he tucked the bottle of Rock Fire Seed into his robes like a precious treasure, hunched his back, and turned to vanish into the darkness in the distance.

Su Chen stood where he was, remaining motionless for a long time.

He looked at the nine clusters of flames burning quietly on the ground, then glanced at the heavy pouch of gold coins in his hand.

Finally, his gaze pierced through the layers of rooftops, fixing upon the most magnificent, brightly lit building in the center of Wutan City.

Miteer Auction House.

The night wind blew, swirling a few withered leaves across the ground.

There was no longer a trace of confusion on Su Chen's face.

He carefully packed away the nine bottles of flames, picked up the wooden box, and turned to leave.

His footsteps no longer held a hint of hesitation.

They were firm and powerful.