The scent of failure clung to Luo Zhen like a cheap perfume. Ten minutes. That's how long the polite, yet unyielding, refusal at the Black Flame House had taken. He stepped back into the chaotic symphony of Red Rock City's streets, a hulking shadow cloaked and masked, his distinctive draconic tail sweeping a clear path through the throng. The cloying aroma of street food and exotic incense did little to cut through the bitter taste of his frustration.
For three hours, he had been an actor in a tiresome play, performing the same scene on a loop. He would enter one of the city's many apothecaries, his presence alone enough to silence the room, and state his purpose. He sought the apex of nature's bounty: top-grade spirit herbs, the kind that vibrated with a life of their own, and the alchemical miracles born from them—flawless fifth-grade pills. He came bearing a fortune in spirit stones, enough to buy a minor fiefdom, yet it seemed his wealth was worthless here.
The response was always a variation on a well-rehearsed theme. A proprietor, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and avarice, would lead him to a velvet-lined pedestal. There, under a dome of polished glass, would sit their treasure. "Ah, a true connoisseur!" they'd exclaim. "This is our pride, the jewel of our collection. A testament to our establishment's prestige. It is, you understand, for display only."
A decoration. A non-fungible trophy to lure in customers. The concept was so profoundly, irritatingly mercantile that it made Luo Zhen's fists clench. Twice, only twice, had his escalating offers—pushed to levels that bordered on the absurd—breached this wall of commercial vanity. He'd walked away with a single, precious item each time, leaving behind a shopkeeper whose trembling hands betrayed a flicker of seller's remorse even as they counted his stones.
His more delicate inquiries, the ones about the city's rumored black market, were met with an even more impenetrable wall. Feigned ignorance, nervous coughs, a sudden, urgent need to attend to another customer. They knew. Of course, they knew. But he was an outsider, an unknown quantity, and entry into that clandestine world was a currency of trust, not coin.
Then he saw it. After hours of fruitless searching, he stood before a structure that didn't just occupy space but dominated it. Tianxin Pavilion. This was no mere shop; it was an institution, a multi-storied edifice of dark, lacquered wood and intricately carved stone that sprawled across a plot that could have comfortably housed half a dozen of its competitors. The very air around it was thick with the fragrant miasma of a thousand potent ingredients, a palpable aura of medicinal power.
If there's an answer in this city, it's in there, he thought, a sliver of hope cutting through his weary cynicism. Shaking off the dust and disappointment of his journey, Luo Zhen let the powerful, serpentine motion of his tail guide him through the grand, open doors.
The interior was a cathedral dedicated to alchemy. Rows of meticulously labeled drawers, crafted from some dark, aromatic wood, soared towards a high, vaulted ceiling. Glass cabinets gleamed under the soft light of enchanted lanterns, displaying rare and wondrous specimens, each radiating a soft, internal glow. The place hummed with quiet, professional energy.
"Good day, Lord Demon General!" The voice was sharp, eager, and belonged to a young man who scurried to his side. He wore the flawless human guise of someone who'd used a Form-Sculpting Pill, though his faint aura betrayed his Demon Spirit realm cultivation. But his eyes were keen; he'd assessed Luo Zhen's powerful frame and the almost oppressive weight of his presence and drawn the correct conclusion. "Welcome to Tianxin Pavilion. We pride ourselves on having everything one could possibly desire. How may we serve you?"
Luo Zhen's voice, filtered through his mask, was a low, gravelly rasp. "I require spirit herbs of the highest grade. And pills of an equivalent potency. Can your pavilion meet such a demand?"
A fire ignited in the young attendant's eyes. His professional mask slipped, revealing a flash of raw excitement. This wasn't a customer seeking a common healing salve or a minor enhancement draught. This was a whale, the kind of client whose single purchase could redefine the month's profits.
"Yes! Absolutely, my lord!" he nearly stammered, catching himself and bowing low. "Of course, treasures of that caliber are beyond my station to handle. Only our esteemed shopkeeper has the authority to present them." He straightened up, his posture radiating urgency. "If you would be so kind as to wait a moment, I will fetch him immediately."
"Very well. Go," Luo Zhen said, his tone flat and unreadable.
The attendant practically vibrated with contained energy as he turned and bounded up a wide, curving staircase. Luo Zhen remained a silent, menacing statue in the middle of the grand hall, drawing a constellation of curious and intimidated glances from the other patrons.
Minutes later, the attendant reappeared, now trailing a figure who descended the stairs with a surprisingly light tread for his size. He was a pig-man, his skin a pale, smooth white, and his opulent silk robes doing little to disguise a formidable girth that was, in itself, a testament to his success. He radiated an aura of shrewd, cheerful affluence.
"My lord," the attendant announced with a reverent gesture. "This is our shopkeeper."
The pig-man's eyes crinkled at the corners as he beamed a smile that felt both genuine and meticulously practiced. He clasped his pudgy hands together in a formal greeting. "Heh heh, a distinct pleasure. My surname is Zhu, at your service. On behalf of Tianxin Pavilion, I welcome you. And to whom do I have the honor of speaking?"
"Luo," was the simple, clipped reply.
"Guest Luo! A fine, strong name," Shopkeeper Zhu declared, his smile never faltering. "My assistant informs me you have an interest in our most exclusive collection? The pinnacle of herbalism and alchemy?"
"Correct," Luo Zhen affirmed. "I need as many as you are willing to sell. If the quality is genuine, the price is of no consequence."
Shopkeeper Zhu's grin widened, and he shot a thick thumb up in the air. "Magnificent! A man of vision and decisive action! You, sir, are precisely the kind of patron we cherish!" He gestured expansively toward the staircase. "The main floor is far too common for a discussion of this magnitude. Shall we retire to a private chamber? This way, Guest Luo, if you please!"
The private room on the second floor was an oasis of calm. Polished darkwood furniture, plush silk cushions, and a single, elegant scroll painting created an atmosphere of refined luxury. The moment they were seated, an attendant materialized with a steaming tea set.
"A specialty of the house," Zhu explained, his voice lowering to a more intimate, conspiratorial tone as he poured the golden liquid. "Yellow Mist Tea. A unique infusion of nine distinct medicinal herbs, saturated with spiritual energy. A few sips are said to be more beneficial than an hour of meditation. Please, indulge."
Luo Zhen regarded the cup. The tea was a luminous amber, and a faint, shimmering vapor—pure, tangible spirit energy—drifted from its surface. He lifted the delicate porcelain to his mask and took a small sip.
An immediate, pleasant warmth bloomed in his core, a clean and potent energy that suffused his entire being. Simultaneously, a familiar, disembodied voice echoed in the private theater of his mind.
[You have consumed a sip of Yellow Mist Tea. Gained 3,900 experience points!]
Impressive, Luo Zhen thought, keeping his external composure perfectly still. "An excellent tea," he rumbled, his voice carrying a note of genuine praise.
"Heh heh, I'm delighted you think so," Zhu chuckled. "Please, enjoy it at your leisure, Guest Luo. I shall return momentarily with the items that brought you here." He rose and glided out of the room, leaving Luo Zhen in the fragrant silence.
He returned in minutes, now carrying several ornate jade boxes that seemed to hum with contained power. After dismissing the attendant and sliding a heavy bolt across the door, he arranged the boxes on the table with the flair of a magician revealing his grand illusion.
"Guest Luo," he began, his voice smooth as oiled silk, "before you are the finest specimens our pavilion is prepared to release from its collection."
He opened the first box. Nestled on black velvet was a gnarled root, vaguely humanoid in shape, that pulsed with a deep, telluric energy. "The Earth Spirit Ganoderma. Unparalleled for reinforcing one's spiritual foundation. The price is fifty-six thousand middle-grade spirit stones."
He moved to the next, revealing a delicate, crystalline flower that seemed rimmed with ethereal frost. "The Heavenly Snow Orchid, famed for its ability to purify the spirit. A bargain at forty-eight thousand."
The third box contained a pill, smooth and white as polished marble, shot through with faint golden veins. "The Jade Return Pill. A fifth-grade alchemical masterpiece, capable of mending the most grievous of internal wounds. Fifty thousand."
Finally, he unveiled a deep azure pill that seemed to swallow the light, creating a tiny sphere of shadow. "And the Spirit Origin Pill, for a dramatic and immediate replenishment of one's reserves. Also fifty thousand."
He stood back, all four boxes open, their contents filling the room with a complex, intoxicating aroma of pure power. He folded his hands over his ample belly, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Well, Guest Luo? Does this humble selection meet with your approval?"
Luo Zhen was silent. He reached out, his movements unhurried, and examined each item in turn. He didn't just look; he sensed, feeling the vibrant life force within the herbs, the perfectly contained inferno within the pills. The quality was impeccable. After a long moment, he set the last item down and gave a single, sharp nod. "They are acceptable."
"Wonderful! I knew a man of your discernment would appreciate true quality," Zhu purred. "So, which of these treasures has caught your eye? We can finalize the—"
A low chuckle cut him off. "There's no need to discuss them individually, Shopkeeper," Luo Zhen said, the sound rumbling from behind his mask. "I'll be taking all of them."
The practiced, professional smile on Zhu's face froze, then shattered. "All… of them?" he stammered, his composure finally breaking. He blinked rapidly. "Did I hear you correctly? You wish to purchase the entire lot?"
"Is there a problem?" Luo Zhen asked, tilting his head.
The shock on Zhu's face was swiftly consumed by a tidal wave of avarice. "A problem? No! Not at all! My apologies, Guest Luo, you simply… overwhelmed me with your magnificent spirit!" he gushed, his voice an octave higher.
"Good. Then let's discuss the price," Luo Zhen said, leaning forward. "Given the scale of this transaction, I assume a professional courtesy—a discount—is in order."
"Of course! Absolutely!" Zhu puffed out his chest. "The total comes to two hundred and four thousand. A princely sum! For you, I will generously waive the four thousand. An even two hundred thousand. A steal, I'm sure you'll agree!"
Luo Zhen slowly shook his head.
Zhu's face fell. "You… are not satisfied?"
"The price is inflated," Luo Zhen stated, his voice now cold as iron. "I am not some country bumpkin on his first visit to the city, Shopkeeper. I am intimately familiar with the market value of these items. Let's dispense with the theatrics."
Zhu's smile became a tight, strained line. "Then… what price does the esteemed guest propose?"
"One hundred and fifty thousand," Luo Zhen countered.
"Impossible!" Zhu squeaked, his jowls quivering. "My acquisition cost is nearly that high! These are not baubles, Guest Luo! Our own reserves are critically low!" He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But, because I sense you are a sincere buyer… my final offer. One hundred and eighty thousand. Not a stone less."
Luo Zhen feigned contemplation. The price was, in fact, quite reasonable. He could have paid the original asking price without a second thought. His personal fortune was vast enough to make a Demon King weep with envy. But this wasn't about money. It was about respect. It was about establishing that he was not a mark to be fleeced.
After a long, calculated pause, he gave a slow nod. "One hundred and eighty thousand. We have a deal."
The transaction was swift. The spirit stones were paid, and the priceless treasures vanished into Luo Zhen's possession. As he stood to leave, he paused at the door. "Shopkeeper Zhu. You and I both know these were not the only such items in your vault."
Zhu's response was frank and immediate. "You are correct. We have others. We even have a Saintly Herb. But Guest Luo, those truly are the crown jewels. They are the foundation of our reputation. They are not for sale."
The same old story. Luo Zhen didn't press. He pivoted. "I need access to the Red Rock City black market."
This time, Zhu's hearty, unrestrained laughter filled the room. "The black market! Now that is a far simpler matter! Our Tianxin Pavilion is a pillar of this city's business community, and our relationship with the market's organizers is… mutually beneficial." He leaned back, a knowing glint in his eye. "For a new and valued client such as yourself, Guest Luo… I would be delighted to serve as your personal guide."