Purchases and a Warning

Lu Zhao's gaze lingered over the Hundred Waters Dharma Disc's mysterious rippling patterns, thoughts racing through his mind.

A thirty-percent boost to spells held far greater appeal than a purely offensive magical artifact for someone like him, whose main means of attack and defense were the Little Spirit Rain Art and its derived ice spells.

Not to mention its potential to "grow," which was like lighting an ever-burning lamp ahead on his Dao Path.

Yet his expression remained unchanged. His fingertips brushed the cool surface of the disc, feeling its faint resonance with spiritual power, and he slowly shook his head. "You're mistaken there, Shopkeeper. Wonderful as this item is, its limitations are considerable."

Shopkeeper Liu's smile stiffened slightly. "Oh? What insights do you have, Fellow Daoist Lu?"

"First," Lu Zhao raised a finger, his tone even but his words striking at the heart of the matter, "this disc only affects water and ice spells. Its market is narrow."

"For anyone who doesn't specialize in those arts, it's like chicken ribs-little meat to eat, yet a shame to discard. Second," he raised another finger, "those who can draw out its greatest value must be deeply accomplished students of spellcraft."

"Yet most such cultivators are rogue cultivators. You know their straitened circumstances better than I do, Shopkeeper. Ninety-five spirit stones is practically an astronomical price to them. Those who can afford it don't need it, and those who need it can't afford it. That's the second point."

He paused, looking straight into Shopkeeper Liu's slightly evasive little eyes. "Third, spiritual water is hard to find.

"Cold Pool True Water, the Earth Vein Yin Spring-which of them isn't either controlled by a major power or hidden deep in dangerous territory? How could an ordinary cultivator obtain them?"

"For most people, talk of nurturing it is nothing but drawing a cake to stave off hunger. Fourth, that thirty-percent increase is probably under ideal conditions."

"In actual use, even a steady twenty-percent boost would be rare. Reckoned that way, its value for money... heh."

With every sentence Lu Zhao spoke, the flesh on Shopkeeper Liu's face twitched almost imperceptibly. How could he not know these drawbacks?

It was precisely because of them that the Hundred Waters Dharma Disc had gathered dust in a corner of his storeroom for years.

"You're being rather too harsh, Fellow Daoist Lu."

Shopkeeper Liu forced a smile. "This disc was difficult to refine, and the whirlpool sea azure jade used in it is a rare spiritual material. It even contains the natural Dao resonance of water patterns. How could it be an ordinary item? Ninety-five spirit stones is already an honest price, offered because you recognize its worth."

"Fine as whirlpool sea azure jade is, precious as Dao resonance may be, a bright pearl cast into darkness is no better than a dull stone."

Unmoved, Lu Zhao continued in the same even tone. "Rather than let it gather dust here, Shopkeeper, why not find a customer who can truly use it and is willing to?"

"Eighty-five spirit stones. If you agree, this is mine, and I'll take that pair of Water-Splitting Spikes as well." He offered a bundled purchase as his bargaining chip.

"Eighty-five?!"

Shopkeeper Liu nearly jumped up, his round face flushing red. "You're cutting far too deep, Fellow Daoist! That wouldn't even cover my costs!"

"Your costs?"

The faint smile at the corners of Lu Zhao's mouth deepened a little. "How long has this been sitting unsold in your hands?"

"When spirit stones turn into something dead, that's a loss."

"Turning it back into flowing water today means cutting your losses and making a gain. Besides," his tone shifted, carrying a hint of certainty, "apart from me, can you find another buyer anytime soon who's interested in this and can produce the spirit stones?"

A brief silence fell over the quiet room, broken only by the curling steam rising from the spiritual tea.

The fat on Shopkeeper Liu's face quivered several times. His little eyes stared fixedly at Lu Zhao's unruffled face, then turned to the Hundred Waters Dharma Disc glowing faintly blue on the table. At last, it all dissolved into a long sigh laden with the pain of parting with money.

"Ah, fine, fine! I've had a taste of that tongue of yours, Fellow Daoist Lu!"

He slapped his thigh hard, as though he had made an enormous decision. "Eighty-five it is! Consider it the start of a good relationship! But those Water-Splitting Spikes are one hundred and ten spirit stones. Not one less!"

"Deal."

Without hesitation, Lu Zhao pushed the bag of spirit stones in front of Shopkeeper Liu. At the same time, he reached out and firmly grasped the azure jade dharma disc that held a sea of whirlpools.

A peculiar sensation instantly came through, gentle and cool, as though faintly resonating with his own water spiritual power.

His fingertips brushed over the two magical artifacts, and water spiritual power seeped into their depths in fine threads, like a spring stream soaking the earth. Lu Zhao closed his eyes and concentrated. Half a day later, both artifacts had been ritually refined.

Another day passed. The cold mist of Green Vine Ravine still churned close over the underground river, and Lu Zhao's days slipped back into their fixed groove.

At dawn, the Flowing Cloud Sparrow broke through the thick mist and climbed dozens of zhang, its compound eyes taking in every part of the ravine.

At the hour of the Dog, he returned to his stone chamber. His azure-sink iron carving knife followed the natural patterns of demonic beast corpses, shavings falling in a steady rustle. He had temporarily stopped making Ironwood Guards, but work on the other two kinds continued.

The expensive scraps piled in the corner silently measured the threshold he had to cross to become a first-tier middle-grade Puppet Master.

While patrolling the southeastern corner of the main herb field that day, he was met by the strong, rank scent of medicinal herbs mingled with the fishy smell of the underground river.

Zhou Qixing stood with his back hunched, his twig-like fingers carefully winding the roots of a Bone-Eroding Orchid around a freshly dead Ink-Scaled Snake. His cloudy eyes were focused with an almost reverent intensity.

"Elder Zhou." Lu Zhao stopped and cupped his fists in greeting.

Zhou Qixing did not stop working, merely giving a nasal grunt in acknowledgment. Only after a while did he slowly straighten and wipe nonexistent sweat from his temple with his mud-stained sleeve. His cloudy gaze settled on Lu Zhao's face with penetrating scrutiny.

"Boy, made a name for yourself in the Zhou Household, have you?" His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping rusty iron.

Lu Zhao inwardly tensed, but his expression remained unchanged. "You make me uneasy, Elder Zhou. I don't know what you mean."

"Heh."

Zhou Qixing gave a derisive chuckle, his withered fingers pointing at the Bone-Eroding Orchids breathing red mist deeper in the herb field. "See those? Fine things, but they catch the eye too.

"There are plenty of snakes scrambling to fertilize them." A trace of complicated mockery flashed through his cloudy eyes. "Right now, you're that newly sprouted Bone-Eroding Orchid. Those boys of the Ping Generation, and the old fellows of the Qi Generation from the branches overseeing general affairs and the storerooms, have all caught your scent."

He paused, his twig-like fingers unconsciously rubbing an Ink Orchid leaf. His voice dropped lower, carrying the bleakness of someone who had seen through worldly affairs. "The Zhou Household is a great tree with deep roots and thick foliage, that much is true. Those at the top, like the ancestor and the elders holding power, have vision and ability. They thirst for talent, and their methods are reasonably open-minded."

"But when a tree grows this large, its branches below become tangled and intertwined. How could sunlight and rain reach them all evenly?"

His cloudy gaze swept over Lu Zhao's young, composed face, carrying an almost imperceptible warning. "Factional infighting, struggles for power and profit, flattering the high and trampling the low-those filthy affairs are the norm down below."

"You think those benefits and promises are meat pies falling from the sky? They're bait! Swallowing them is easy. Spitting them out without the hook piercing your throat is hard!"

Zhou Qixing's withered fingers suddenly clenched around the Ink Orchid leaf. It broke apart between them, seeping dark red juice like congealed blood.

"If I hadn't been dragged into that rotten business among the Qi Generation back then and made to carry someone else's blame, how would I have ended up in this accursed place, wasting fourteen years with these bloodsucking poisonous weeds?"

Heavy resentment and unwillingness seeped into his voice. His cloudy eyes stared fixedly at the dark red stain between his fingers. "A bright future? The Lineage nurturing me? Pah!"

"I was nothing but a discarded pawn in their factional struggles! They only have eyes for their own little patches of land. They won't tolerate a stone blocking their way, much less a disobedient pawn!"

He abruptly flung the crushed leaf into the underground river. Watching the dark red silently disappear into the ink-black current, he let out a long, stale breath. His resentment seemed to sink to the riverbed with it, leaving only profound weariness and the bleakness of someone who had seen through worldly affairs.

He looked at Lu Zhao, his cloudy eyes holding the complicated look of someone who had been through it all. "Boy, having ability is a good thing, but it's also the root of trouble. What the Zhou Household can give you is far richer than that little stipend of yours."

"But this bowl of rice will scald your mouth. If you want to hold it steady, craftsmanship alone won't do. You need a discerning eye, and more than that... a thorn planted firmly enough that others can't easily pull it out!"

Lu Zhao returned to his stone chamber and sat cross-legged on the cold stone bed, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the smooth azure jade dharma disc in his sleeve.

Zhou Qixing's hoarse warning echoed through his mind again and again.

He remembered when he had first entered the Zhou Household Market. His cultivation had been so low that even finding work with the Demon Hunters had been difficult.

When he first joined the Zhou Household, Steward Ming's strictly businesslike face had been cold enough to scrape frost from. He had docked his stipend and Cold Jade Pills without the slightest room for sentiment. Had he not later wanted Lu Zhao to marry into the Household, he would never have shown him a pleasant face.

When he had set up his stall as a rogue cultivator, others had hawked their wares in a bustling frenzy, while sparrows could have nested undisturbed in front of his Puppet Guard stall. That little idle chatter with Old Huang had been a rare bit of warmth.

And now? His cultivation at the fifth layer of Qi Refining, his increasingly refined Puppet Art, and especially those "eyes" that could soar a hundred zhang had made him a "Bone-Eroding Orchid" in the eyes of certain people in the Zhou Household.

There were the friendliness and recruitment behind Steward Zhou Ming's smile, the Nine Abyss Pavilion shopkeeper's almost loss-making "support" and covert protection, and even a formation master like Chen Moyang willingly taking the initiative to tell him about azure-grain wood.

Of all this "goodwill" rushing to meet him, which gesture did not bear a price tag? Which offering did not come wrapped in calculations?

Ability was a pass, but also a banner that beckoned calamity. When his cultivation was low, the world had been as cold and hard as the rock walls of a mine; once he could pry loose the slightest profit, even the mist over the Cold Pool seemed to become "friendly."

Lu Zhao slowly exhaled a stale breath. The Hundred Waters Dharma Disc beneath his fingertips remained cool. In the end, his road through the cultivation world had to be opened with the carving knife in his hand and the spiritual power in his Dantian, one cut and one chisel stroke, one step and one footprint at a time.

The goodwill or malice of others was nothing more than loose stones along the road, some serving as decoration and others tripping his feet.