Chapter 9: Rising Fortunes
Qi surged like a rising tide within Flux's body.
Seated cross-legged in the moss-draped quiet of his hidden cave, he exhaled slowly. Eyes closed, breath calm, his figure remained still as a statue. The ambient spiritual energy—drawn from cultivated meat, herbs, and focused meditation—spiraled through his meridians in steady waves, refining and converging within his dantian with practiced precision.
A faint tremor stirred the air.
His aura pulsed, then compressed inward. For an instant, a pearlescent sheen flickered across his skin—then vanished, like ripples settling on a still pond.
Flux opened his eyes.
"Second level of Foundation Establishment," he murmured, flexing his fingers. Power flowed beneath his skin, hot and alive. "That went smoother than expected."
He rolled his shoulders, letting the last traces of tension fade.
"All thanks to the meat from the other beasts I hunted before. That demon snake was more of a poison swamp than a proper meal… even the scales reeked of toxins."
He stepped out into the morning light. The forest greeted him with birdsong and the scent of wet earth. Dew glittered on ferns, and shafts of sun pierced the canopy in golden beams.
Flux narrowed his gaze toward the distant horizon.
"Oaktown. Time to cash in."
With a flick of his sleeve, his flying sword swept forward from the shadows of the cave. He stepped onto it without pause, rising into the sky on a whisper of wind.
---
The flight took several hours.
Oaktown's wooden palisades and busy gates came into view just past noon. The roads bustled with travelers and creaking wagons, mercenaries dozing at their posts or scanning the treeline with sharp eyes.
Flux landed a short walk from the gate and joined the line.
The guards barely glanced at him. He handed over the entry fee and walked through unbothered, vanishing into the crowd like a leaf on the breeze.
The town was as lively as ever.
Scents clashed in the air—roasted meat, medicinal herbs, incense. Merchants hawked their wares, spirit beast hides fluttered on display racks, and passing cultivators argued over the merits of talismans versus pills.
Flux didn't linger. He made his way straight to the Yellow Leaf Pavilion.
Inside, the shop's cool elegance wrapped around him like mist—polished floors, carved screens, jade incense holders releasing wisps of calming fragrance.
An attendant greeted him with a bow. "Welcome, honored cultivator. How may I assist you today?"
"I've got materials to sell," Flux said, producing his storage pouch.
"Of course. Please follow me."
He was guided into a quiet appraisal room. A pot of tea steamed on the low table, cushions perfectly arranged. The attendant sat across from him, drawing items from the pouch with measured care: a fourth-level demon core, sealed venom sacs, obsidian fangs, glistening scales.
The room filled with the soft clinks of jade and metal.
At last, the attendant looked up, lips curling into a practiced smile.
"A remarkable haul. The fourth-level Foundation Establishment core alone is worth 5,000 low-grade spirit stones. With the venom sacs, fangs, and scales—all in excellent condition—the total comes to 6,785."
"I'll take it," Flux said simply.
The attendant nodded. "Would you care to browse? We've received new stock—healing pills, talismans, enchanted items…"
"Healing pills first. Foundation level. Best quality."
"We have a top-grade bottle—ten pills, pure and potent. 1,500 low-grade spirit stones."
"Add it."
He gestured.
"Attack and defense talismans. High-grade, Foundation tier."
"We carry two premium sets. The attack set includes explosive flames, wind blades, and a thunder strike talisman. The defense set features barriers, qi dampeners, and a single-use escape charm. Each is priced at 1,500."
"I'll take both. And a larger storage pouch—three times the capacity."
"One remains in stock. Reinforced weave, spatial enhancements. 2,000."
Flux nodded. "That too."
Moments later, the attendant returned with a tray bearing a smooth jade bottle, two lacquered talisman boxes, and an embroidered storage pouch shimmering with faint silver threads.
Flux inspected each item with a critical eye. The talismans were dense with precise formation lines, the pills faintly luminous, the pouch sleek and tightly woven.
"Done," he said, storing them away.
"We're honored by your business," the attendant said with a bow. "Please return anytime."
Outside, Flux paused beneath the awning, eyes drifting back toward the elegant storefront.
"They always know what I need," he muttered. "No haggling, no games… Almost suspicious."
But he smiled.
"Efficient, though. I'll take it."
---
Later, at a familiar inn near the town square, he sat at a corner table, steam rising from his meal. The broth was thick with mountain herbs, the roasted meat tender—cut from one of the earlier beasts he'd hunted and stored.
He wouldn't have touched that demon snake even if starving.
He sipped his tea slowly, letting the weariness of travel slip away.
"Room and a meal," he'd told the innkeeper. Same words as last time. Same routine.
---
Upstairs, he sat on the edge of the bed, flipping a spirit coin through his fingers.
"Money flows like water," he said to no one. "One day you're swimming in it, the next you're broke again."
He checked his pouch.
"Two hundred left."
He let out a soft groan and flopped back on the bed.
"Mologan City's not gonna welcome a penniless cultivator."
For a long moment, he stared at the ceiling, expression unreadable.
"Hunting's still the best path. Dangerous, sure—but it's mine."
He sat up, crossing his arms.
"I need more than raw power next time. Talisman use. Formation basics. Versatility."
He closed his eyes, let the thoughts drift.
"But first… sleep."
---
Morning came with a soft golden glow through thin curtains. After a quick breakfast, Flux went over his gear—fresh talismans, new pills, storage pouch secured.
Outside, the square was already stirring. Merchants opened their stalls. Travelers shouted across wagons. Children darted through the dust after fluttering butterflies.
Flux adjusted his pouch strap, standing tall in the middle of the flow.
One last look at Oaktown.
With a whisper of qi, his flying sword hovered into place. He stepped on, rising smoothly above the roofs.
Below, the town shrank into a patchwork of streets and stalls. The wind tugged at his robes as the forest stretched before him again—untamed, perilous, full of promise.
He flew toward it without hesitation.