Chapter 9: Rising Fortunes

  Qi surged like a rising tide within Flux’s body. Seated cross-legged in the heart of his moss-draped cave, he exhaled slowly, eyes closed, body still. The ambient spiritual energy drawn from beast meat, herbs, and focused meditation spiraled through his meridians in steady waves, converging in his dantian with practiced precision.

  A subtle tremor ran through the air.

  His aura pulsed, then compressed sharply inward—refining itself. For a brief instant, his skin glowed with a soft, pearlescent sheen.

  Then—stillness.

  Flux opened his eyes, calm and steady. A faint smile curved his lips.

  “Second level of Foundation Establishment,” he murmured, flexing his fingers. Power flowed beneath the surface of his skin like liquid fire. “That went smoother than expected.”

  He rolled his shoulders with a content sigh, the tension of cultivation melting away.

  “All thanks to the beast cores and demon meat. Though... shame about the demon snake. That thing was a walking poison swamp.”

  He stepped to the mouth of the cave, the forest beyond bathed in morning light. Dew sparkled on the leaves, and a light breeze stirred the canopy above.

  Flux narrowed his eyes at the distant horizon.

  “Oaktown. Time to cash in.”

  With a flick of his wrist, his flying sword shot from the cave’s shadow. He leapt onto it in a single motion, and with a quiet hum, he rose into the sky.

  ---

  The flight took several hours.

  Oaktown’s wooden walls and bustling gates came into view just past noon. Wagons creaked forward along the dirt road, guarded by grizzled mercenaries and wary cultivators. Flux nded a short distance away and joined the line.

  The guards gave him a cursory gnce. He paid the small entrance fee with a nod and walked through the gates unnoticed.

  The town was as lively as ever.

  The scent of roasted meat, medicinal herbs, and incense drifted on the air. Merchants shouted deals, spirit beast pelts hung from stalls, and alchemists advertised pills that “could melt a mountain or mend a limb.”

  Flux made his way straight to the Yellow Leaf Pavilion.

  Inside, it was as polished and serene as he remembered—walls lined with cquered shelves, incense burning from jade holders, and robed attendants moving with quiet precision.

  One of them approached with a bow.

  “Welcome to the Yellow Leaf Pavilion. How may I assist you today, honored cultivator?”

  “I’m here to sell demon beast materials,” Flux said, producing his storage pouch.

  “Of course, sir. Please follow me.”

  He was led to a private appraisal room—quiet, warm, with soft cushions and a pot of floral tea already waiting.

  The attendant sat across from him and began ying out the goods: a fourth-level demon beast core, venom sacs sealed in jade, obsidian fangs, and several glistening bck scales.

  Time passed in silence, save for the faint clink of stone and metal as each item was examined.

  Eventually, the attendant looked up and smiled.

  “A remarkable haul,” he said. “The fourth-level Foundation Establishment demon core—high quality—will sell for 5,000 spirit stones. The venom sacs, fangs, and scales are in excellent condition. They bring the total to 6,785 low-grade spirit stones.”

  “I’ll take it,” Flux replied without hesitation.

  The attendant nodded. “Would you like to browse our selection? We currently have new arrivals—healing pills, talismans, formation fgs, even enchanted gear.”

  Flux considered. “Show me the best healing pills you have for Foundation Establishment.”

  “We have a top-grade bottle—ten pills, excellent purity. Price: 1,500 low spirit stones.”

  “I’ll take it. Show me your best attack and defense talismans as well—Foundation level.”

  “Both sets are premium—each priced at 1,500. The attack set includes explosive fme bursts, wind bdes, and a thunder strike. The defense set has barrier talismans, qi dampening seals, and one escape token.”

  “Perfect,” Flux said. “I’ll take both.”

  “Anything else, sir?”

  Flux paused. “A rger storage pouch. Something triple the capacity.”

  “We have one—reinforced weave, spatially expanded. 2,000 low spirit stones.”

  “Add it to the list.”

  Moments ter, the attendant returned with a tray. A smooth jade bottle, two cquered boxes, and a finely embroidered pouch rested atop it.

  Flux inspected each item carefully. The talismans were crisp, dense with formation lines. The pills glowed faintly. The storage pouch shimmered with spatial threads.

  “Done,” he said, storing the items with practiced ease.

  “Thank you for your business,” the attendant said with a bow. “We hope to serve you again.”

  As Flux stepped out into the street, he couldn’t help but gnce back at the pavilion.

  “They never try to haggle,” he muttered. “Always know exactly what I need. It’s convenient… maybe too convenient.”

  Still, he smiled.

  “They do good work.”

  ---

  Later, at a familiar inn near the town center, Flux sat at a wooden table with a hot meal before him. The broth was thick with herbs, the roasted meat tender and warm. He sipped his tea slowly, letting the tension of travel melt away.

  “Room and a meal,” he had told the innkeeper earlier. Same words, same routine.

  Upstairs, he sat on the edge of his bed, tossing a coin between his fingers.

  “Money really does flow like water,” he said dryly. “One day you're rich, the next you're counting scraps.”

  He checked his pouch.

  “Two hundred low spirit stones left.”

  He id back with a groan. “Mologan City’s not gonna welcome a broke cultivator with open arms…”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared at the ceiling.

  “Hunting is still my best bet. Spirit stones, resources… it all comes from that forest. It’s dangerous, but it’s mine.”

  He sat up and crossed his arms.

  “Talisman practice. Formation basics. I need more than just brute force next time.”

  He exhaled. “But first… sleep.”

  ---

  The next morning, light filtered through the thin curtains of his room. He ate a quick breakfast, checked his supplies—new talismans, pills, storage pouch, everything in pce.

  Outside, the town square was waking. Merchants opened stalls, travelers prepared their wagons, and children chased butterflies through the streets.

  Flux stood at the center, adjusting the strap on his new pouch. He took one final look at the town.

  Then, with a flick of his hand, his flying sword hovered beneath his feet. He stepped on, steady and sure.

  With a faint hum, he lifted into the sky.

  Oaktown grew smaller beneath him. The wind tousled his hair, and the forest

  once again stretched ahead—wild, dangerous, and full of opportunity.

  He flew toward it without hesitation.

  Ready for what came next.