The truth behind the broken sword

"Five hundred!" The young cultivator from the Lin Household shot to his feet in the corner, his formerly arrogant voice now tinged with frustration.

The broken sword's starting price of three hundred had nearly doubled in the blink of an eye. The rogue cultivators who had joined in for the excitement had long since obediently shut their mouths. Only he and the elderly man at the Qi Refinement Ninth Layer in the center of the hall were still locked in battle.

"Five hundred and fifty." The old man did not even raise his eyelids. His withered fingers tapped lightly against the armrest, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper scraping a tabletop.

Those casually spoken words struck the Lin Household cultivator's chest like a heavy hammer. His face alternated between green and white as he stared fixedly at the broken sword onstage, finally sitting back down with gritted teeth.

Five hundred and fifty was already beyond the full amount he had been authorized to spend on this trip. If he really sank it into a piece of scrap metal, the lineage elders would skin him alive when he returned.

The hall fell deathly silent. Only the oil-lamp wicks occasionally gave a soft pop.

The fat shopkeeper smiled so broadly that the flesh on his face trembled. "Five hundred and fifty! Will any fellow Daoist bid higher? This is an immortal's relic. Who knows, there might be some heaven-reaching cultivation method hidden inside..."

Lin He remained motionless in his secluded corner, like a lifeless tower of black iron. But only he knew that beneath his loose black robe, his heart was racing at a hundred and eighty beats per minute.

The inscriptions on that broken sword were absolutely identical to those that had appeared on Ingot's shell!

Whatever this thing was, he had to get it!

But he did not dare make a sound, because this "human tank" did not control his own wallet.

Beneath the black robe, Su Qiuran's cool fingertips were rapidly tracing and writing across his broad, solid lower back. This woman must have worked in finance in her previous life. Her fingers tapped as though she were working an abacus.

Lin He automatically translated the symbols she drew in his head: seven jin of supreme-grade spirit grain, valued at five hundred... eighty-seven in cash... several high-grade talismans...

A moment later, Su Qiuran's fingers stopped.

Then she jabbed the small of his back hard six times.

She paused for two seconds.

Then jabbed twice more.

Six hundred and twenty. The absolute limit!

"Five hundred and seventy." The old man in the center of the hall suddenly spoke again, breaking the silence.

Everyone froze at the sight of him raising his own bid. The old man slowly opened his cloudy eyes and surveyed the room, his tone carrying an unquestionable pressure. "That is all I will offer. If anyone bids higher, the fragment is theirs."

This was the domineering art of retreating to advance. A big shot at the Qi Refinement Ninth Layer had spoken, and his meaning was clear-five hundred and seventy, I'm taking it. Anyone who dares speak again is refusing to give me face.

The fat shopkeeper raised his wooden hammer. "Five hundred and seventy, going once..."

"Six hundred."

A deliberately lowered, raspy voice abruptly sounded from the rear corner. It was not loud, yet it exploded like thunder in the quiet underground hall.

Whoosh-

The eyes of all thirty or forty people instantly fixed on Lin He.

The young Lin Household cultivator widened his eyes as though looking at a dead man; the scavenging rogue cultivators instinctively shrank closer to the wall.

A body cultivator without the slightest fluctuation of Spiritual Qi, who did not know what was good for him, actually dared clash head-on with a mighty cultivator at the Qi Refinement Ninth Layer?! Had he gone mad?

In the center of the hall, the old man's movements stopped.

He slowly turned his head. His cloudy yet blade-sharp gaze crossed the dozen-odd meters between them and locked onto Lin He's black-robed figure, so burly it was almost misshapen.

The terrifying spiritual pressure of the Qi Refinement Ninth Layer swept toward him along that gaze, blotting out the sky. Lin He felt his chest tighten. The internal circulation within his organs, forged by his third tempering with the essence of the sun, instinctively began racing. His Qi and blood surged like a roaring furnace, forcibly withstanding that invisible oppression.

He met the old man's gaze without flinching, his body sitting ramrod straight beneath the black robe.

They stared at each other for a full three seconds.

The old man suddenly grinned, revealing a mouthful of broken, blackened yellow teeth. "Junior, spending six hundred low-grade Spirit Stones on a piece of scrap iron-what, are you taking it home to melt down into a woodcutting knife?"

As his words fell, the killing intent filling the air seemed to thin somewhat.

Lin He's expression did not change, his voice still hoarse and steady. "You're right, Senior. I'm a blacksmith, and I happen to need a piece of good steel."

Another collective gasp swept through the room. A blacksmith needing good steel, my ass! Forging metal with an immortal's relic worth six hundred Spirit Stones?

Rather than grow angry, the old man laughed. "Hahahaha! Good, interesting! I won't fight a blacksmith over it. Six hundred Spirit Stones-it's yours!"

He casually tossed his bidding paddle onto the table and turned away, but another sentence drifted back eerily. "After the auction, I would like to share a drink with the 'blacksmith.'"

He spoke casually, but everyone could hear that refusal was not an option.

The muscles in Lin He's lower back abruptly tightened. Being targeted by someone at the Qi Refinement Ninth Layer was no joke. But he had no way back now.

"Six hundred! Sold!" Seeing no further bids, the fat shopkeeper brought down his hammer, afraid this strange black-robed man might change his mind.

Lin He rose and walked toward the platform with steady steps. Each footfall on the flagstones made a heavy thud that set hearts trembling.

When he reached the counter, the fat shopkeeper rubbed his hands with a smile. "Customer, six hundred low-grade Spirit Stones, or the equivalent in hard currency."

Without another word, Lin He shook his wide sleeve. With several heavy thuds, seven weighty cloth bags landed on the counter.

The fat shopkeeper opened one, and his pupils abruptly contracted. "This... supreme-grade azure jade spirit grain?!"

A full seven jin.

"Count it as five hundred and forty," Lin He said hoarsely. This was the discounted black-market rate he had asked about in the marketplace before coming.

"No problem!" The fat shopkeeper agreed at once. Supreme-grade spirit grain was hard currency now; there was no fear of it going unsold. He worked his abacus. "Then you still owe sixty..."

Lin He did not take out Spirit Stones. Beneath the black robe, Su Qiuran's fingers swiftly retrieved several talisman papers from a hidden pocket in her inner clothing and slipped them into his hand.

Lin He turned his wrist and slapped six pristine talismans onto the counter.

"Four Spirit-Clearing Detoxification Talismans, two Vajra Protection Talismans. All high-grade."

At those words, the fat shopkeeper's eyes went wide. Miasma now filled Green Mountain. Detoxification and protection talismans were practically divine lifesavers, with prices quoted but none available!

"These..." The fat shopkeeper was just about to examine them closely.

"Let me take a look."

The elderly shopkeeper of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion, who had been sitting silently in the front row, suddenly stood and walked over with a smile. He cupped his hands very politely toward Lin He. "Fellow Daoist, we meet again."

Another faint stir passed through the crowd. The elderly shopkeeper of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion was an old hand in the town's cultivation business circles, yet he was being so polite to a body cultivator?

The old shopkeeper put on a specially made crystal monocle and carefully picked up a Spirit-Clearing Detoxification Talisman. Just one glance sent a trace of shock flashing through his eyes.

The cinnabar strokes flowed like drifting clouds and running water, their spiritual resonance contained to the utmost. The workmanship was even more terrifying than that batch of Fireball Talismans from a few days ago! More frightening still, an extremely faint scent of ink lingered on the paper... it had only been drawn last night!

"Fatty, no need to look." The old shopkeeper set down the talisman, his tone certain. "The finest of the finest. The Hundred Treasures Pavilion will take them for sixty Spirit Stones. Credit the payment to this fellow Daoist."

"Certainly!" The fat shopkeeper deftly put away the spirit grain and Spirit Stones, then used both hands to push the wooden case containing the broken sword before Lin He.

Lin He lifted the red cloth, his fingertips touching the cold, black broken sword.

At the instant of contact, the intricate dark-gold patterns within the blade actually grew faintly warm, as though responding to the blood in his body that had been tempered by the essence of the sun.

Lin He forcibly suppressed his pounding heart, snapped the wooden case shut, and stuffed it straight into his loose black robe before turning to leave.

His steps were steady, but inwardly he was already cursing.

Although he had obtained the item, what he had done today had practically left half his underwear exposed.

First, his close working relationship with the old shopkeeper of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion had now been thoroughly exposed; second, after he produced six lifesaving high-grade talismans in one go, even an idiot could guess he had an extraordinarily monstrous high-grade talisman maker behind him; third, an old monster at the Qi Refinement Ninth Layer now had him firmly in his sights.

Wife, if a fight really breaks out later, don't worry about anything. Just hold on tight to me. I'll use my body to carve a bloody path for you, Lin He silently vowed.

The auction soon dispersed.

Following the dark, damp stone stairs, Lin He emerged through the back door of the Yongtai Pawnshop.

Outside was a narrow, pitch-black dead-end alley.

The high walls blocked the moonlight, leaving only a faint sliver of light spilling in through the alley's entrance.

And at the boundary between light and shadow, someone stood quietly.

Hunched in gray robes, as thin as dry kindling.

It was none other than that old man at the Qi Refinement Ninth Layer.

Lin He's steps stopped abruptly. Beneath the black robe, every muscle in his body instantly tensed to its limit. His Qi and blood churned through his organs like boiling water, and his right hand silently closed around the short-handled woodcutting knife at his waist.

On his back, Su Qiuran's fingers also tightly gripped their last two Fireball Talismans.

"Little blacksmith, no need to be so nervous." The old man turned, his cloudy eyes gleaming eerily in the darkness. He released no spiritual pressure, yet he was like an invisible mountain barring the alley's entrance.

"My surname is Tang, and my given name is Lie. Just a rogue cultivator."

Old Freak Tang!

Lin He's heart jolted. He had heard Shopkeeper Wu mention that apart from the three great lineages, there was another ruthless figure in the Green Mountain region who absolutely must not be provoked: a lone-wolf rogue cultivator known as Old Freak Tang, who killed people like mowing hemp and whose moods were unpredictable.

"Are you blocking my way to discuss blacksmithing too, Senior?" Lin He kept his voice low. His knife was already half an inch out of its sheath.

Watching Lin He's posture, ready to fight for his life at any moment, Tang Lie's lips curved into a satisfied sneer. "It's rare for a body cultivator to reach your level of containing Qi and blood. But I'm not interested in your life. I'm interested in you."

He leisurely stepped forward. "You recognize the inscriptions on that broken sword, don't you, young brother?"

Lin He's pupils abruptly contracted, and he denied it without hesitation. "You think too highly of me, Senior. I'm just a rough fellow..."

"Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes." Tang Lie cut him off, his voice filled with unquestionable certainty. "When you saw those inscriptions from below the stage, your breathing stopped for an instant. That look in your eyes couldn't fool anyone."

This old monster had actually been observing other people's microexpressions while bidding!

Tang Lie stared fixedly at Lin He, lowered his voice, and dropped a bombshell. "Three years ago, in the deepest part of the Mass Grave on Green Mountain, I saw a damaged stone slab. The patterns carved on it were identical to those on this broken sword. Unfortunately, those idiots from the Li Household later blew it apart while breaking the formation."

Lin He felt Su Qiuran's fingers abruptly tighten around his clothing behind him.

Deep within Green Mountain? A stone slab?

This broken sword and the inscriptions on Ingot's back actually both pointed toward the deepest part of the Mass Grave on Green Mountain!

"I studied those inscriptions for three years and gained nothing." Fanatical light blazed from Tang Lie's cloudy eyes. "Young brother, if you can unravel their secret..."

As he spoke, the old freak turned his wrist, and an exquisite little white-jade bottle appeared in his palm.

"Inside is a Spirit Assault Pill. A supreme sacred medicine for breaking through bottlenecks in the Qi Refinement Realm, and it can even forcibly raise your chances of success by twenty percent when you attempt Foundation Establishment in the future." Tang Lie's voice brimmed with deadly temptation. "As long as you decipher the inscriptions, this pill is yours."

At the words "Foundation Establishment," Lin He's breathing grew thoroughly heavy.

A Spirit Assault Pill!

He was a mortal without a spirit root. This thing was no different from a sugar bean to him. But...

His wife needed this thing far too badly!