Standing head and shoulders above the rest was a young man. When he spotted Qian Fu, he gave a faint nod. “Been waiting on you lot.”
Qian Fu made the introduction. “This is my clan brother, Qian Hai.”
Lu Qinghe cupped his fists. “Senior Brother Qian.”
Now he understood why an Outer Sect Disciple like Qian Hai would bother with this sort of business.
Ten Menial Disciples at once-fifty Low Grade Spirit Stones in a single trip. For an Outer Sect Disciple, that was an extraordinarily generous sum.
Qian Hai’s manner was unexpectedly modest. “No need for formalities, Junior Brother.”
“Since everyone’s here, please board the Flying Boat.”
He drew a Flying Boat from his Storage Bag. The palm-sized vessel swelled against the wind, expanding in moments into a craft large enough to carry over a dozen passengers.
Lu Qinghe had seen such a thing before. Two years ago, Bai Tianyu and the others had used a Flying Boat just like this to bring the recruits back from Stone Village.
Everyone leapt aboard. Once all were settled-
“Rise!”
Qian Hai guided the Flying Boat skyward, soaring toward the Sect’s outer boundary.
At the gate, he produced a token for the two disciples standing guard. “Senior Brothers, this junior is heading to the Immortal Market to purchase supplies. If you would open the gate.”
The two guards verified his token and waved them through.
Once they cleared the Sect’s borders, every Menial Disciple aboard let their excitement show. Each of them hoped to find what they needed at the Immortal Market-something that might push them past their current bottleneck.
Lu Qinghe swept his gaze over the group. The other nine Menial Disciples hadn’t revealed their cultivation, but he could tell: all of them sat at Qi Condensation third layer.
And none were far from the fourth.
Among them were youths, middle-aged men, and even elders well past sixty.
Some had decent aptitude and fortune, reaching the third layer in just a few years. Others had neither luck nor talent, still mired at the third layer even in their twilight years.
Several had disguised themselves, just as Lu Qinghe had. A few didn’t bother, showing their true faces openly.
Here and there, acquaintances exchanged quiet words.
This was a long-term arrangement, after all. Ruin his reputation, and earning Spirit Stones from Menial Disciples wouldn’t come so easily in the future.
Two hours later, the Flying Boat pierced through a bank of clouds. Below the mist, the silhouette of an immortal city emerged.
Qian Hai brought the vessel down. At the gate, he presented his Taixuan Sect identity to the market guards. They let the group pass at once, waiving the entry fee.
“Ah, Fellow Daoists of the Taixuan Sect-please, enter.”
As one of the three great immortal sects of the Zhao Kingdom, the Taixuan Sect carried weight wherever it went. Even the Immortal Market’s administrators wouldn’t dare give offense.
Qian Hai led the group inside. Once past the threshold, he turned to address them. “We’ll remain here for three hours. What you do with that time is your own affair.
“But remember-you must return to this spot within three hours. And do not violate the Immortal Market’s rules. This place has its own Enforcement Squad, and Foundation Establishment True Persons stand behind them.
“If you stir up trouble, this Senior Brother cannot shield you. I trust you’ll conduct yourselves wisely.”
The ten of them answered in unison. “Rest assured, Senior Brother. We understand.”
Qian Hai waved them off. “Go handle your business.”
“Yes!”
The group scattered in ten different directions. Lu Qinghe slipped into the bustling crowd and vanished.
When he reappeared, he wore entirely different clothes.
He stepped into a Spirit Rice shop. The owner’s eyes lit up at the sight of a customer. “Fellow Daoist, what can I help you with?”
Three hours wasn’t much. Lu Qinghe had no time for pleasantries. “Shopkeeper, do you purchase Spirit Rice here?”
The owner nodded. “We do, though the price depends on quality.”
Lu Qinghe produced a thousand jin of Spirit Rice without preamble.
The shop owner blinked. “This much?”
He didn’t need to weigh it-a single glance told him the approximate quantity.
Lu Qinghe had his story ready. “My family has three mu of ancestral Spirit Fields. This year’s harvest was good, so I’m selling part of it to fund my cultivation.”
A reasonable explanation. It would discourage prying eyes, and even if someone harbored ill intent, no one would dare act inside the Immortal Market.
The owner’s expression warmed considerably. “I had no idea Fellow Daoist hailed from a planting clan.”
Small cultivation families with Spirit Fields were a shop like his bread and butter. Three mu of Spirit Fields, no less-that counted as fairly prosperous among minor clans.
The owner opened the bag to inspect the grain, and surprise crept into his voice. “I never imagined-Fellow Daoist, the quality of this Spirit Rice is extraordinary. I’ve never seen its equal.” This story is hosted at NovelPing.
“This must have been grown in genuine Spirit Fields.”
Spirit Fields were ranked by grade: inferior, low, medium, and high. The higher the grade, the denser the Spiritual Qi, and the more advanced the spiritual plants it could nurture.
Spirit Rice was only a basic spiritual crop, one that could be grown even on inferior-grade fields. Few cultivators would waste genuine Spirit Fields on something so common.
The quality might improve, certainly-but Spirit Rice was still worth far less than spirit herbs.
Lu Qinghe only smiled and asked, “What would you offer for rice of this quality?”
The owner considered. “Normally, we purchase Spirit Rice at twelve jin per Spirit Stone. But Fellow Daoist’s rice is of remarkable quality, so I’ll offer you the premium rate-ten jin per Spirit Stone. How does that sound?”
This already exceeded Lu Qinghe’s expectations. He’d assumed getting the standard twelve-jin rate-the same as Qian Hai charged-would be the best he could hope for.
“Done.”
A thousand jin meant a hundred Spirit Stones. Lu Qinghe agreed without hesitation.
The shop owner beamed. Securing Spirit Rice of this caliber would do wonders for his shop’s reputation.
“Fellow Daoist, exactly one thousand jin. Here are your hundred Spirit Stones. Should you have rice of this quality again in the future, please think of our humble shop.”
“I will.”
Lu Qinghe pocketed the Spirit Stones, offered a parting nod, and walked out-leaving the shop owner staring after him, deep in thought.
Which nearby planting clan could produce Spirit Rice in such quantity and quality? The man couldn’t place it.
Lu Qinghe changed his appearance several more times, visiting one Spirit Rice shop after another.
Spirit Rice might be the lowest grade of spiritual crop, but for low-level cultivators it was an essential staple-a necessity in any Immortal Market.
The price held steady at roughly ten jin per Spirit Stone. Lu Qinghe didn’t dare push his luck. He sold eleven thousand jin in total, netting a full thousand Spirit Stones.
The Qingyun Immortal Market was vast, home to over a hundred thousand souls between Rogue Cultivators and clan cultivators alike. Even so, if he’d dumped his entire stock at once, it might have drawn the attention of those who governed this place-and attention meant trouble.
What Lu Qinghe didn’t know was that the sudden appearance of over ten thousand jin of exceptional Spirit Rice had already caused a small stir. Certain parties had begun making inquiries.
His caution, once again, spared him from disaster he never saw coming.