novelraw Chapter 3: Hustle and Bargains
Chapter 3: Hustle and Bargains
“Second-tier artifact?!”
Old Zhang’s voice cracked like a whip the instant Qi Xiu laid the item on the counter. The appraiser’s sharp eyes raked over Qi Xiu once, twice, lips twitching with questions he swallowed back. Instead he simply lifted the treasure with reverent care and began his inspection.
Qi Xiu said nothing. He knew exactly what the old man was thinking.
A measly second-layer Qi Refining nobody pulling out a second-tier artifact? Even direct disciples from great sects rarely carried such things before late Qi Refining. Hell, plenty of down-on-their-luck Foundation Establishment rogue cultivators didn’t own one.
But Clear River Auction House had run this market for generations. Reputation was their lifeblood. Qi Xiu had done business here for over a decade without a single incident. One second-tier low-grade piece wasn’t worth them burning that trust to dig into his background. He kept his expression calm, almost bored, and let the silence do the intimidating.
Old Zhang spent a full incense stick’s time probing with spiritual sense before he finally spoke.
“Golden Light Cymbals. Metal-aspect, second-tier low-grade. Clash them together and they fuse into a copper shield—defensive strength tops out at first-tier high-grade, barely kisses second-tier if you dump everything into it. Separate them and hurl—one cymbal for offense, the other for defense. Or smash them together to fire a golden beam: speed second-tier mid-grade, power second-tier low-grade. Downside? Drains spiritual power like a starving ghost. A late Qi Refining cultivator could manage three full-power strikes before coughing blood. Pure combat tool—collectors hate it, practical buyers low-ball it.”
He set the cymbals down with a soft clink.
“If we buy outright, we can offer this.”
Five fingers flashed twice—fifty-five second-tier spirit stones.
Qi Xiu sucked air through his teeth.
Fifty-five.
His rock-bottom hope had been seventy-five. The cymbals were the crown jewel of this trip. Everything else was scraps. Without a strong sale here, the Foundation Establishment Pill stayed a fantasy.
But around Qi Cloud Sect’s sphere of influence, every sect and clan prided itself on being “righteous Daoist sects.” Weapons designed purely for killing people—rather than slaying demons or looking pretty—always fetched garbage prices.
Qi Xiu gritted his teeth. “Too low. Let’s try auction.”
Old Zhang nodded without surprise. “Fair. It’s attack-defense integrated; someone might get excited. We hold small nightly auctions, a temporary exchange meet in two days, and the monthly mid-sized auction in fifteen days. The cymbals could headline a small one, but in the mid-sized they’re just warm-up filler. As for the exchange meet—you’d need to declare what you want in trade. I can advise.”
After some back-and-forth, they settled on the mid-sized auction fifteen days hence. Worst case, the house would still take the cymbals for fifty-five commission-free, and Qi Xiu could pawn his storage bag to make up the difference.
He left the auction house and spent the rest of the day sprinting from shop to shop like a mortal peddler, haggling over every stalk of spirit grass, every chipped talisman. By dusk he dragged himself into the largest pill-and-herb emporium in the market.
Sold the herbs first. Then, casual as asking for rice wine, he inquired about a Foundation Establishment Pill.
The stone-faced middle-aged attendant slid over a thin brochure without a word.
- One third-tier spirit stone
- One second-tier mid-grade artifact
- One second-tier low-grade flying sword
- Two jin of refined gold essence
- One 300-year-old polygonum root…
Qi Xiu flipped two pages, closed it, and slid it back. He didn’t have a single item on the list.
“If I reserve one for pickup after the sixteenth… any discount?”
“Reserve with materials and we only charge labor—extra materials earn further discount. Reserve with spirit stones, no discount, but we guarantee stock.”
Qi Xiu chewed his lip. Big chambers like this one kept secrets for customers; buy from some shady stall and every robber within fifty li would smell the pill on him the moment he stepped outside the wards.
“Spirit stones it is. Second-tier. Quote?”
“Today’s rate—one hundred eight second-tier stones. Since it’s a reservation, call it one hundred five.”
Qi Xiu’s molars ached. Third-tier stones were supposed to trade at one-to-one hundred second-tier, but in rogue markets high-grade stones were scarcer than phoenix feathers. He was effectively paying an extra five.
“Done.” He forced the words out, handed over the deposit, and received a jade token for later collection.
Only when he stepped into the evening air did he realize the sun was already kissing the western roofs. One night running, one full day haggling, not a drop of water or grain of rice—he was swaying on his feet.
He found a cheap inn catering to Qi Refining cultivators, rented the smallest room, wolfed down a bowl of spirit rice, and collapsed fully dressed. Sleep hit like a blackout talisman.
He woke near noon the next day, mouth ringed with stress blisters.
Mortal medicine couldn’t fix those; only breaking through realms or priceless elixirs could. His cultivation was too low—even meditation barely restored him.
One Foundation Establishment Pill.
One chance for his master to add a hundred years to his lifespan.
If this batch of goods fell short…
Qi Xiu’s hands trembled.
This was the third time he had come here on this exact errand.
His master had already attempted pill-assisted breakthrough four times that he knew of—twice publicly, twice in absolute secret. This would be the fifth.
The more times you used the pill, the weaker its effect. Add the old man’s age and the damage from previous failures… the odds were microscopic.
If Sect Leader Qi died, the Chu-Qin Sect died with him.
Qi Xiu had never known a world without the sect. It was father, mother, home, everything. The thought of waking up one morning with no mountain gate to return to, no master waiting with his perpetually worried frown—it was a black pit that swallowed his courage whole.
He forced himself into lotus position, circulated the Evergreen Art once, and shoved the terror aside.
Inventory time.
After yesterday’s sales, what remained were mostly first-tier odds and ends. The most valuable: two used first-tier flying treasures—Spirit Bamboo Kites. Slow as a mortal sprint and fragile as wet paper, but every Qi Refining cultivator who could afford one kept one. Flying swords were for the rich.
The shops wouldn’t take used kites, but the ghost market would.
Everything else—first-tier talismans, common pills—wouldn’t fetch more than one second-tier stone apiece in formal shops. In the ghost market, if he undercut the stores by just a hair, they’d vanish.
Decision made.
Qi Xiu packed the remaining goods into a nondescript cloth bundle, scarfed down another quick meal, and headed for Clear River Market’s dark heart—the ghost market where rogue cultivators traded under the table and no questions were ever asked.
【Terminology Updates – Chapter 3】
- Golden Light Cymbals (金光钹): second-tier low-grade metal-aspect paired artifact
- Spirit Bamboo Kite (灵竹纸鸢): first-tier low-grade disposable flying treasure
- Ghost Market (鬼市): unofficial black-market area within Clear River Market where anything goes