The girls, Petra, Mell, Soryn, Lilly and Luna, Noah, and Wind, were taken on a leisurely stroll through the morning streets of the town of Old Hand by Crapsley…
The sun rose slowly, its pale golden light washing the old city in an amber radiance.
The road beneath their feet was a mix of crude cobblestone and packed dirt, worn down in many places while cracked in others, scarred by centuries of passing feet and carriage wheels. The atmosphere was slow, unhurried, a stark contrast to the western region's excitement, and a lot less hostile.
Birds chirped, and the wind whispered.
The distant sound of chimes mixed with the morning chatter of the elderly population.
It was cold, but not enough to cause one to change their clothing...
-
Crapsley walked a step ahead, hands clasped behind his back with an extreme pride, er… no, was it arrogance? His posture was difficult to describe. Mm, he guided the girls towards the pottery market with confidence!
The moment they arrived, the air seemed to change…
The faint scent of baked clay and damp earth washed over them like a tide. It was warm, earthy, and heavy with an unseen aura that suppressed the other smells around them. Rows of stalls spread across the square, each one stacked high with pottery in muted browns, pale reds, and ash-gray tones. Bowls, plates, jars, kettles, and all kinds of heavy tools, like ovens, cauldrons, and small furnaces, were spread out and piled up into small towers on the side of the road. Some pieces were polished, smooth and shiny, while others were rough and textured, yet every single piece had its own uniqueness.
The entire place radiated a sense of old traditions that were deeply rooted.
-
"This is one of the prides of Old Hand," Crapsley said, gesturing broadly towards both sides of the street. "The clay here comes from the special riverbeds not far from the west of town, where many of the oldest craftsmen believe that the 'western sea' bleeds into the southern region through the border rivers that link the two regions, then carries the strong-willed and durable souls of the fallen westerners all the way here, to the south! It's a bit like a belated blessing from the west, or at least, that's what they think!" His voice was a bit fanatical.
He continued loudly, clearly enjoying himself a bit too much.
"Even after the western region was ravaged by the Second Calamity, many folks still believe that the 'soul of the west' still drifts from the sea and flows to the south. It's an old belief, passed down for many generations, and you can see it in the 'strength' of their creations!"
He continued—
Petra immediately wandered off…
While Soryn and Wind remained with Crapsley, listening with a varying degree of patience, Lilly and Luna followed Petra as she drifted from stall to stall.
After stopping, Petra approached a strange, deep red transparent clay jar.
She poked it with a finger—
Tap-tap-tap-tap!
—Like a brat poking a fish tank…
It didn't crack…
She lifted it with both hands, turned it upside down, shook it, and moved to 'gently knock' it against the table. From the side, the old shopkeeper jumped when he saw the little girl walk up and pick up a large jar nearly as tall as herself, then prepare to 'test' it against the table.
Before Petra could smash—swing it against the table, Lilly and Luna grabbed her by the ears and pulled her back. "Ouch-ouch-ouch—!" Petra flailed wildly!
She was dragged away...
-
In the background, Crapsley continued to explain that Old Hands pottery was favored by travelers and scholars alike. It retained heat well, resisted fractures, and could survive being dropped from a moving cart or two, no-no, not just once or twice, it could do this indefinitely, because the special clay had a somewhat reparative property, so as long as it didn't happen repeatedly over a short period of time, it wouldn't matter at all!
Alchemists liked it because it didn't react easily, merchants liked it because it didn't break, and nobles liked it because it came with a long, respectable history, which made it a good gift!
His voice stretched on and on…
Around them, the market buzzed, and voices began to blend as Old Hand slowly woke up.
-
A few hours passed.
The sun climbed higher, and before anyone noticed, noon settled quietly overhead.
As the city warmed up and its liveliness returned, more people began to filter into the streets. Shutters split, while doors opened in welcoming waves, accompanied by the low murmur of chaotic conversations that slowly replaced the shadow of sleepiness.
-
After leaving the pottery market, the plaza gradually gave way to a narrower, calmer stretch of road that was less centralized. Crapsley led the girls onward, his steps reflecting a carefree man who had walked these streets countless times before, or at least, he had walked them a lot recently.
Although—
Soryn still felt there was something just a little bit off about him…
Unlike the noisy markets Petra had seen in larger cities, Old Hand's clothing district was quiet and slow. Rolls of fabric hung from wooden frames, while dozens of shops displayed unique patterns and masterful techniques openly, despite their secrecy.
The wind blew, picking up loose leaves. The cool breeze slipped through the chaotic lanes, causing the hanging fabric to ripple and sway. The street breathed in rhythm with the wind, flowing in such a way that almost seemed to outline its currents.
The girls walked forward…
-
The pottery district was dominated by earthy browns and rich reds, but the colors here were muted but deep, more varied, with rich greens, weathered blues, creamy whites, and dark browns and blacks.
They weren't the colors of nobles, but more of the upper middle-class.
To be clear, these were 'mortal clothes', things used by normal people in everyday life, not the magic cloth that was used to create magic cloaks and cultivation robes.
Because the Cross Continent was slightly unique, it was often overlooked that 'mortals' inhabited the majority of the world. These mortals were just regular men and women, the kind you would imagine in a medieval setting, without the ability to influence spiritual energy, therefore lacking the ability to cultivate. This could also be called people with no talent.
Surprisingly—
The Cross Continent had a large number of these 'practitioners', those that could control spiritual energy, especially the kind that didn't adhere to any of the pure paths. Those that didn't adhere to any of the pure paths were usually self-taught, individuals who clawed their way forward in the dark and carved their own path, despite usually lacking a future. These people often pursued their own growth, like the 'blind granny' and the 'sword bug' from the Grand Gathering.
Some places, like the Cellistan Continent, were composed of nearly 'ninety-five' percent mortals, a stark contrast to the Cross Continent's roughly 'sixty' percent! This disparity was very abnormal by continental standards, and only served to further heighten the 'interest' of those overseas powers.
Anyways, I digress—
Back to Crapsley…
"The clothes crafted by the old hands of Old Hand last a long time, especially compared to other places that practice the same craft!" Crapsley said proudly.
"They don't chase the frequent trends here, no-no-no, they refine what they know until it's mastered to an unbelievable level, exceeding what is commonly thought to even be possible! Let me tell you! This is a secret shared only amongst the elders, but it's said that a single shirt can last up to two hundred years! Even nobles from the capital order clothes from here to use as leisure wear!"
Soryn looked at him in disbelief.
How did he know that?
Crapsley just turned towards her and gave her a' big smile'…
-
After a few more minutes of walking—
They stepped into one of the side stores, a small one-story building with two glass displays on both sides of the door. Inside, the scent of dry fibers and old wood filled the air. It was bitter, yet somehow tangy. The shelves inside were stacked with neatly folded rolls of fabric, arranged by weight, texture, and shape, while heavy rolls of the same materials were stored in bulk, stored upright against the walls, from floor to ceiling.
Wool, flax, and cotton formed the majority of their sales, but hidden among their wares were rarer materials, like spools of magic threads from a wide variety of magical beasts, all procured from special farms throughout the southern region. Threaded fabrics infused with spiritual energy, treated hides of magical beasts, reinforced silk, magic thread, and experimental creations meant for high-level garments. Some were designed to retain warmth using elemental energy, others to resist moisture by using special materials, decay, rot, time, pressure, and some pieces even had the ability to combat mental interference. This place, unlike the stalls outside, was clearly prepared for top-level practitioners!
To a trained eye, this wasn't just a cloth shop, but an archive of high-level techniques refined over one thousand years!
Crapsley had taken them to the top shop in town!
Lilly, the team's tailor, had her eyes light up with starlight!
This time, she ran ahead even quicker than Petra.
Petra: "..."
Luna: "..."
The two little girls looked at each other, then quickly followed Lilly, disappearing into the labyrinth of cloth, leaving the others to watch them run ahead.
Crapsley watched them go while scratching his beard…
-
Petra caught up to Lilly, who was rummaging through a series of different containers, and strangely enough, Petra seemed to almost see herself in the little girl.
Was she that bad of an influence?
Petra always felt like Lilly was the 'good sister', but seeing her now...
Hump! Not wanting to be outdone—
Petra immediately waddled over, grabbed a sleeve, and stretched it with her tiny hands.
It didn't tear!
It was good shit!
From behind, Luna's lips twitched as she watched the two children compete for 'most disruptive'.
Lilly was very enthusiastic. Looking around, the quality was undeniably good, but it still couldn't compare to what they were currently wearing. The Tower Spiders' silk was, frankly, an unfair comparison. It was one of the few materials that existed that could resist the venom of the Tower Spider, making it a top-tier material by all standards.
Compared to that, everything here was 'low level'…
But—
That didn't mean that it wasn't worth taking a look! Especially for an aspiring tailor like Lilly!
Her eyes lit up as she found her way to a worker and began shooting questions about insulation, cloth layering, durability, magic maintenance, and hidden rune channels, clearly thinking ahead. She peppered the shopkeeper and staff with tons of technical questions, one after another, extracting as much information as she could.
The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with nimble fingers, had a patient smile. She explained that the cloth from Old Hand was treated with 'river salt' and a 'secret plant oil'. The process made it resistant to moisture and rot, and shockingly stable when exposed to spiritual energy.
"Long ago," the woman began—
"A very skilled painter passed through town…"
Lilly listened to the story with big eyes.
"He only came for a few days, and only painted a few pictures, but many of our elders were remembered this way, and many of their memorial tablets were paired with those very paintings. Over that short period of time, he had developed a sense of belonging to the village, so he left behind a special technique to help us grow into the proper town that we are today. What he taught us was a similar treatment used on magical canvases, but he taught us how to apply it to cloth instead."
That was the story of how Old Hand went from a small village that was ready to dissipate, into a thriving town. As for the result, it was a fabric that could serve as canvas, clothing, light armor, and many other things. It was an incredible technique, one that the continent wouldn't see ever again.
"We don't know what happened to that painter, and he left no name, but he called himself the Pinpoint Painter. Apparently, he was a skilled painter from a distant continent. "
Lilly listened to the end of the old woman's story.
At the same time—
Off to the side, in the background, Petra stared at a large scarf.
Then another…
Then three more…
It was truly a tragedy that Jillian wasn't here to witness this moment, because she seemed to have some obsession with big scarves.
"…Can I?" Petra asked aloud, already holding several in her small claws. She wondered if a scarf would fit her style…? Even if it didn't, the South was quite chilly, so it wasn't a bad idea to 'stock up'.
No one answered—
No one even noticed…
Poor Petra!
She happily played around with the scarves, looping them around her head one by one, while imagining increasingly impractical uses for them.
Time passed…
In the end, the group left with half a dozen folded bundles under their arms. They had bought simple coats, some interesting cloth samples to study, and a couple of sets of travel 'undergarments', because, for some reason, Lilly didn't like to make them...
She was shy!
-
That day, they didn't stop at just one store…
Under Crapsley's guidance, they visited several more, gathering samples and collecting study materials.
Petra tugged on her new scarves, puffed out her chest, planted her hands on her hips, and walked forward with an exaggerated confidence!
Oh, and yes…
She had stolen all of them... because no one even tried to stop her! Poor Petra, right? RIGHT—?
* * *
Not long after leaving, the smell hit them in the face.