Changhu's Perspective
The sun had barely crept over Clear Sky City's tiled rooftops when I arrived at the boutique. Even through the street haze and early morning bustle, our store stood out like a polished spirit stone in a bed of gravel.
Black lacquered wood, deep crimson trimmings, elegant lanterns with shifting light arrays—it didn't look like a robe shop anymore. It looked like the kind of place you stepped into when you wanted to feel powerful. Important. Refined.
The second floor's tall windows shimmered faintly with array-bound privacy screens, while the main floor doors were wide open, guarded not by cultivators but by aura alone. Prestige leaked from the shop like spirit essence from a cracked jade bottle.
I stepped inside.
The scent of subtle Cloudweaver perfume drifted through the air—floral and faintly spiced. Not overpowering. Just enough to remind you that you'd entered a different world.
Changsheng was already inside, standing near the display hall like some reclusive noble young master preparing for a clan inheritance.
He turned as I approached. "You're early."
I grinned. "Wanted to see the empire before the people trampled it."
He didn't laugh, just nodded slightly and returned to adjusting the way a silk midnight-blue robe was draped over one of the headless mana-glass mannequins. Every corner gleamed. Darkwood shelving carved with wave motifs, light crystals subtly inset into the ceiling in a pattern only a formation geek would notice. There was no harsh overhead lighting—just gentle spotlights aimed to make the robes shimmer like celestial silk.
On the first floor, every robe had its own small dais. None were stacked. Every piece stood alone like an artifact. The first floor was open to walk-ins, but we both knew only a certain kind of customer would dare cross that threshold.
The second floor—well, that was for appointments only. You either had an invitation or you didn't get in. Grade Two robes were displayed there like ancient relics, guarded by taste and quiet ceremony.
"You really did it," I muttered, walking past a robe with golden phoenix embroidery that flickered as you moved. "This doesn't look like something a seventeen-year-old threw together."
He shrugged, but I saw the pride in the tilt of his chin. "We're not selling robes," he said. "We're selling identity. Prestige. The illusion of rising above the ordinary."
I tilted my head. "You've been talking to too many merchants."
"Just thinking like one."
I was about to tease him again when he glanced at my waist.
"Your fan," he said, tapping his chin like a merchant eyeing a prime auction item. "You know… we should sell accessories."
I blinked. "Accessories?"
"Stylish spiritual items," he said. "Fans, sashes, belt buckles, hairpieces. Not cheap knockoffs—real things that scream cultivator with character. Like yours."
I flipped my fan open with a snap. The silver-edged blades shimmered along the inner spokes, engraved with cloud-stepping sigils. "You want to sell this kind of swagger?"
"Exactly. People walk in wanting to look strong. But they stay because we make them feel important. Accessories turn them into someone."
"Fashionable foundation cultivators…" I chuckled. "What a niche."
"Niche now. Trend tomorrow."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're serious?"
He grinned. "Deadly."
"Let me guess, I'm the face of the line?"
"You already are."
I leaned against the display case. "I finally get paid for being pretty. It's about time."
That got a laugh out of him—the real kind, not the polite ones he used at banquets.
A pause settled between us. Then I remembered, "Oh—Ye Tianjian-zenren sent a message this morning. Said he might stop by."
"Third Uncle?" His gaze flickered. A beat of tension. Then he nodded. "If he comes… I want him to see this and feel it was worth letting me come here."
"He won't say it, but he'll know," I said. "And if he doesn't, I'll say it for him. You built something real, Changsheng."
He was quiet for a moment, looking around the store. All the polished floors, the handpicked display robes, the perfect lighting. Then he looked at me and nodded, slow and steady.
"Let's hope the rest of the world sees it too."
The next thing I heard was the murmuring.
The kind that rose from the edges of a crowd like the wind before a storm. The kind of murmur you get when people start whispering names — powerful ones.
"They say Tianjian-zenren might be coming."
"Is that the Baishi Clan's third son in the back?"
"I heard a Foundation Elder from the Whitemist Sect is sending an envoy—"
I stood by the boutique's outer arch as the first wave of guests trickled in, dressed like peacocks and panthers — noble clan heirs, minor sect disciples, merchant favorites, and those dangerous casual cultivators who wore power like a loose sash. Their robes shimmered with enchantments, but they still glanced around like they were unsure if they belonged.
Good.
That's what Changsheng wanted — to make even the powerful question their place. Prestige is a performance, after all.
Changsheng stood in the center of the store, flanked by two of our best-trained staff. They wore black uniforms with crimson trim and collars like folding lotus petals. A custom scent from the Cloudweaver Mo Clan lingered in the air — sharp citrus up top, a deep floral drift beneath. We bought it. For now.
He greeted people like a young prince. Not flashy, but just distant enough to feel rare. Unreachable. Unbothered.
I slipped inside as the first floor filled up. The air buzzed with spirit qi, perfume, and something else — tension. The way you feel right before a duel. Or a deal.
The walk-ins wandered between displays, fingers twitching toward price tags they were too embarrassed to ask about. A robe with black jade stitching. A sea-green spiritweave piece enchanted to shift color slightly with your mood. People didn't talk much on the first floor. They whispered.
A servant from the Fan Clan actually bowed to a mannequin. I nearly choked.
And then the real guests started arriving.
Invited nobles. Foundation experts. Daughters of sect elders. A few we'd met at that rooftop banquet weeks back. I caught glimpses of Changsheng's old friends nodding as they entered, guided discreetly upstairs to the second floor by Hu, our manager, who looked like he'd swallowed a lightning pill and smiled through the sparks.
The second floor — that was the real stage.
You couldn't even see it unless you had an appointment or your name was on the guest scroll. It wasn't just robes up there. It was art. Enchanted illumination set each piece apart, shadows falling just right, spiritual threads thrumming in subtle tones.
Soft music played — not from instruments, but a formation array that mimicked guqin melodies. It calmed the mind. Loosened the purse strings.
Each robe had its own plinth. You didn't browse. You were led. Spoken to in a tone just above a whisper. Second-floor staff bowed deeper, walked slower, and never said the word price. Because if you needed to ask, you weren't meant to be there.
I turned back toward the entrance as a small commotion stirred.
A Ye clan attendant raised their voice slightly. "Announcing the arrival of Tianjian-zenren!"
My spine straightened. There he was — Third Uncle, mid-Jindan stage, his pressure like a wall of heat barely restrained. But his eyes held amusement. He was dressed plainly, by our standards — which still meant silver-threaded gray robes and a sword on his back that hadn't been unsheathed in years.
I moved to greet him, but Changsheng had already stepped forward.
Third Uncle raised a brow, glanced around the room.
"So this is the robe shop you kept pestering the elders about."
Changsheng didn't bow too deeply — just enough. "Yes, Third Uncle. I hope it lives up to your expectations."
Tianjian smiled faintly. "It exceeds them. But now you've set a high bar… let's see if your robes deserve the building they sit in."
"Then please," Changsheng gestured with a slight flourish, "come upstairs."
The rest of the morning blurred into layered waves of conversation, spirit stone exchanges, and more than a few glowing compliments. Word was already spreading. Fast. Several merchants I'd invited grinned and whispered about placement orders. One noble daughter from the Cloudcrane Clan asked if we'd consider seasonal collections.
By mid-afternoon, the rumor mill had gone wild. People were saying even the Jinwu Kingdom's minor princes might visit in the coming months. That was absurd. But absurdity was good. Absurdity meant buzz.
Standing near the second floor stairs, I caught sight of Changsheng again. He wasn't smiling. But he looked… calm. Like someone who'd seen the whole game before it started.
I walked up beside him. "You did it."
He nodded. "We did."
"Think you'll ever rest?"
"Maybe."
We both laughed.
Tomorrow, things might change. Business might get hard. Orders might fall through. The politics would catch up. But today?
Today we were kings.