The gathering at the Great Wind Tower ended with everyone departing in high spirits, and Hou Niao naturally entered the Anhe Association's circle of fellow townsmen. Although he did not take part in their daily activities, he now had a place in their hometown association.
He had also thought things through. There was no avoiding circles; as long as a person lived, he was bound to belong to one. Relatively speaking, an organization of fellow townsmen was about the loosest, most natural, least conspicuous circle there was.
This way, things could seem more natural too.
After the meal, Gu Weixin and the others had business to attend to, while he strolled toward Jincheng's largest Xiuzhen market street.
There were some things he had to prepare.
Xiuzhen markets were a hurdle no cultivator could avoid. All the resources needed during cultivation had to be circulated here: selling what one had to spare and buying what one urgently needed. No one could dabble in every aspect of Xiuzhen, and no one could be entirely self-sufficient. Thus, every large city had such a place, which was also the only place cultivators spent their money.
This street in Jincheng was the busiest market district in the entire Great Wind Plains, with the most comprehensive selection of Xiuzhen goods and the richest resources. As long as one had enough Spirit Stones, there was nothing one could not buy here.
It was Hou Niao's first visit. The moment he set foot there, he felt as though even the air carried the scent of Spirit Stones. Cultivators came and went all around him. He had never known there were so many cultivators in this world. Ordinarily, they were nowhere to be seen, but here they were as numerous as carp crossing a river; mortals, by contrast, were rarely seen.
Only here did he feel that his cultivation realm might not be so low after all. Most of those walking the streets were at Pulse Movement or Qi Gathering, and he actually found himself looking down from above.
The shops varied in size, but their specialties were finely divided. Essentially, those selling pills never sold talismans, those selling talismans never sold artifacts, and those selling artifacts never sold books. Everyone tended to their own business, each in their own specialty, and coexisted peacefully.
He saw no large shops selling everything. Perhaps that was another feature of Jincheng. After all, this was not a magnificent city like the Jade Capital or the Divine Capital; there was a ceiling to the size of its clientele.
He was looking for shops selling artifacts. In terms of the types of businesses on this street, pill shops were the most numerous, followed by talisman shops, then artifact shops, and finally cultivation method shops... The reason was simple: pills and talismans were consumables, so demand never ceased. Artifacts lasted much longer, while cultivation methods and techniques were things one could use for a lifetime.
After walking along the street and observing a little, he chose a shop with few customers, called Top Grade. Its name alone made clear that it specialized in fine goods. From his experience in life, the places low-level cultivators most liked to visit were not necessarily good ones. They might indeed be cheap, but their quality was worrying. Selling in volume and selling quality were two different things.
Upon entering, no one came to attend to him, giving him the chance to examine the shop's displays and arrangement carefully.
The counters were filled with a dazzling array of objects: law artifacts, formation discs, puppets, and more. He merely swept his gaze over them, taking them in without taking them to heart. He knew what he truly needed.
An entire wall was covered with swords, all forged from different Xiuzhen materials, their quality worlds apart from ordinary weapons.
This was why he had come here: he needed a good sword. Since he had already decided to focus his current development on swordsmanship, the sword bestowed by his sect was somewhat inadequate. This was a choice every sword lover would make.
The shopkeeper was an old man who stood quietly some ten feet to his side, not saying a word. This was an old man who understood a swordsman's mind very well. He knew that when a swordsman examined swords, it was like a man admiring a beauty; what he hated most was someone chattering endlessly behind him.
As Hou Niao looked over the swords, he discovered that more than half carried five-element attributes. This was also the prevailing preference among low-level cultivators. Their current realms did not yet grant them five-element abilities; only after reaching Profound Connection could they manipulate the five elements. Thus, to add the power of an attribute in battle, they chose swords that possessed five-element power of their own.
When used, one only needed to pour Gang Qi into them, and the swords would automatically convert it into powers such as fire, water, metal, or ice. Then, as sword light swept about, flames would leap wildly and icy essences would assail the enemy, inflicting considerable additional damage. Against certain beasts with five-element attributes in particular, they could exert a powerful restraining effect.
This was a shortcut to increasing a sword's power, but it likewise meant the wielder's abandonment of pure swordsmanship. Each choice had its gains and losses.
Hou Niao watched quietly for a long time before speaking. "Sir, I want a sword without any attributes, with sharpness and sturdiness as the priorities, priced at around a hundred low-grade Spirit Stones. Please recommend one."
The old man smiled faintly. This was a tacit understanding between sword lovers, without bargaining or buying the box and returning the pearl. This was respect for swords. Even if he probably would not earn much from the transaction, he would earn himself a day of good spirits.
After decades of cultivating the Dao and practicing the sword, he had yet to achieve success in the Dao, but his eye for people was incomparably keen. At a glance, he could tell who truly used a sword to kill and who merely wore one at his waist for show.
Without hesitation, he took three sword cases from beneath the counter.
He opened the first sword case. "When the dragon returns, the swords shall at last unite; when the phoenix departs, the flute is heard no more... This is the Xiaohe Sword, left behind by an old friend. It rests here with me only to await a master worthy of it."
Then he opened the second sword case. "The sword of Jincheng in days gone by, its cold light shot toward the Dipper and Ox... This is the Dipper-Ox Sword, left behind by a Quanzhen swordsman who died defending Jincheng!"
Finally, he opened the third sword case. "This sword, even I have forgotten where it came from... Nameless Lonely Sword!"
Hou Niao reached out and lightly drew the pad of his finger along the cold edges of the three longswords, carefully savoring what the swords told him, as though he could hear their former hot-blooded valor!
A communion of hearts between a person and a sword-did that sound meaningless? Yet after fighting dozens of battles against the Sword Soul in the Soul Realm, Hou Niao understood that it was real! It could not be put into words or explained. Those who understood needed no words; those who did not would still not understand after hearing them.
Just as he stroked their edges now, it was as though he could hear their inner voices! The Xiaohe Sword was lonely, the Dipper-Ox Sword thirsted for blood, and the nameless sword was silent!
At last, his finger stopped on the Nameless Lonely Sword. He flicked it lightly, and the sword rang like a howl!
He lifted it with one hand and ran a finger along it with the other. "I'm nameless too. This one, then!"
The old man neither praised his discerning eye nor blamed him for being blind to what was before him. He merely put the other two longswords away in silence. What a pity-their masters had yet to appear.
Hou Niao began taking things out of his Treasure Gourd: forty Spirit Stones in all, forty-nine Qi Gathering Pills in four bottles, and two sets of talismans. That was everything he had.
Qi Gathering Pills were worth roughly one Spirit Stone each, and talismans were worth about the same. In other words, the things he had taken out were worth around a hundred and twenty Spirit Stones.
"You've offered too much..." the old man reminded him.
"You've asked too little!"
How could a sword have a fixed price? If it caught one's fancy, it was a priceless treasure; if it did not, it was merely a strip of iron.
...Within its case, it cried like a dragon; in its cry, there must be injustice. A thousand gold weighed lightly against its worth; a hundred trials lent weight to its renown. To shoot toward the Dipper was never an idle boast; cast a pearl before it, and it would never start. Where would wondrous deeds be wrought? A divine blade answered a spirit sincere.