Fang Lin followed the direction Vren had pointed to.
His gaze fell on the sword stalls ahead before he looked back at Vren, a faint arrogance surfacing in his eyes.
"Oh? You like swords?" Fang Lin said casually.
"Fine then—let's get you one."
He straightened up and turned his head toward Mu Chen, raising his voice deliberately so the nearby crowd could hear him.
"Mu Chen," Fang Lin called out, "do you know any good sword stalls? Today, my little brother is finally asking me for something."
Mu Chen immediately understood his intent. A grin spread across his face as he replied in the same confident tone.
"Of course. Come on, I'll take you there."
Tian Xueya quickly sensed what Fang Lin was planning. Stepping forward, she spoke calmly,
"You two go ahead and buy a sword for Vren. I need to purchase a few personal items. I'll join you shortly."
Fang Lin frowned slightly, unable to understand her intention.
Where is she going all of a sudden…? he thought. She hasn't told anything since earlier…
Then he shook his head inwardly. She's the patriarch's daughter after all. How could I possibly stop her? But still…
His gaze followed her as she began walking toward a stall filled with ancient-looking items. Without hesitation,
he asked,
"Tian Xueya… do you have any spiritual stones with you right now?"
Tian Xueya paused and turned back. Calmly, she raised her hand, revealing a golden token that shimmered under the daylight. Engraved upon it was the unmistakable seal of the Tianjian Clan Patriarch.
She thought to herself, Looks like this is the right moment to show it.
Then she spoke with faint arrogance in her voice,
"You don't need to worry, Fang Lin. I have the Patriarch's token. With this, if I wish, I can buy out an entire stall."
The golden light from the token reflected in Fang Lin's eyes, causing his pupils to shrink slightly.
Fang Lin's gaze lingered on the golden token as thoughts raced through his mind.
So that token… with it, she can casually buy out an entire stall, he thought.
Honestly, I'm not that shocked. She is the Patriarch's daughter after all…
Then his eyes narrowed slightly.
But carrying the Patriarch's personal token so openly—does that mean the Patriarch trusts her this much?
Nearby, Mu Chen was completely stunned. He staggered back a few steps, his voice trembling as he muttered,
"A… a golden token bearing the clan seal… and not just any Tian Family token—this belongs to the Patriarch himself."
A short distance away,
the two young disciples who had been whispering insults behind Fang Lin's back were struck dumb. Their legs gave out, and they collapsed straight onto the ground.
The more venomous boy spoke first, his voice shaking with fear,
"W-what did Fang Lin just say to that girl…? Tian Xueya… one of the Three Beauties of the Southern Wildlands… and the daughter of the Tianjian Clan Patriarch?"
The slightly more mature boy's expression twisted with both anger and terror.
"Yes… and you've made a huge mistake."
He grabbed his head in despair.
"Whose face did I even see this morning that I ended up coming here with you? I'm doomed because of you too. Even if we're only B-grade aptitude disciples, with that token in her hand, her authority is barely below the Patriarch himself. If she wants us dead, we won't even see tomorrow's sun."
The first boy's face turned deathly pale.
"Th-then what do I do now…?"
Tears streamed down his face.
"Should… should we go and apologize to her?"
The mature boy clenched his teeth and replied,
"What else do you think we should do? She seemed to be in a good mood today—
that's probably why she didn't react earlier. If we apologize now, there's still a chance she'll forgive us."
With that, the two hurried toward the direction Tian Xueya had gone—
only to realize she had already disappeared into the market crowd.
The talkative boy panicked.
"She's gone… I can't see her anywhere! What do we do now?"
The mature one's eyes flickered as he calmed himself.
"So what if she's gone? Her… boyfriend is still here, isn't he?"
A strange, almost sly smile crept onto his face as he looked toward Fang Lin.
"If we apologize to him, he'll definitely forgive us. And if he speaks on our behalf, maybe Tian Xueya will forgive us too."
With that thought, the two straightened their clothes and walked nervously toward Fang Lin.
After Tian Xueya left, Fang Lin stood there for a brief moment, still processing everything that had just happened.
Before he could think further, Mu Chen leaned closer and spoke in a low, practical voice,
"Come on. The sword stall is this way. If we delay any longer, the good pieces might get taken."
Fang Lin nodded lightly. He didn't say anything more and simply followed Mu Chen.
Holding Vren's hand, Fang Lin began walking toward the sword stall Mu Chen had mentioned earlier. Mu Chen walked slightly ahead, the white bag of spiritual stones still hanging from his shoulder, drawing more than a few glances from the surrounding crowd.
The bustling market slowly shifted around them as they moved forward—voices, clashing metals, and the faint hum of spiritual fluctuations filling the air.
Mu Chen led Fang Lin toward a sword stall located near the central path of the market.
The moment they arrived, Fang Lin's gaze was drawn forward.
In the main display area of the stall, dozens of swords were arranged neatly in long horizontal rows. Some were mounted on wooden racks, their blades partially unsheathed, revealing cold steel that reflected the sunlight. Others were placed upright inside simple scabbards, each one giving off a faint but distinct aura.
A few swords carried visible spiritual patterns etched along their blades, while others looked plain at first glance—yet the quiet pressure they emitted made it clear they were anything but ordinary.
Behind the front display, the inner section of the stall was open.
Inside, forging work was still in progress.
A large furnace burned steadily, its flames glowing orange-red as a craftsman swung his hammer rhythmically. Each strike rang through the air with a sharp metallic echo. Sparks scattered with every hit, and the heat caused the surrounding air to ripple faintly.
The scent of hot metal and spirit-infused ore mixed together, forming a heavy but familiar smell—one that belonged only to a true weapon-forging place.
Mu Chen stopped and turned slightly toward Fang Lin, a small grin appearing on his face.
"This is one of the better sword stalls around here," he said confidently. "They don't just sell swords—they forge them properly."
Fang Lin gaze lifted toward the wooden plaque hanging above the stall.
The characters carved upon it were not written in the common script used by most outer disciples.
They were ancient, sharp, and restrained, each stroke carrying a faint sense of dignity.
"Mu Sword Pavilion."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Moments later, his attention shifted to the sword seller standing behind the counter. The man was dressed in orange robes strikingly similar to Mu Chen's—simple, clean, and practical, yet carrying a faint air of discipline rather than commerce.
Fang Lin glanced back at Mu Chen.
Mu Chen was speaking to the shopkeeper casually, his posture relaxed, the conversation flowing naturally—far too naturally for a mere customer.
A thought quietly formed in Fang Lin's mind.
This stall feels strangely connected to Mu Chen…
First, the name—Mu Sword Pavilion.
Then the shopkeeper, dressed just like him.
And now this familiar way they speak to each other…
He didn't hesitate.
"Mu Chen," Fang Lin asked directly, his tone calm but curious, "is this sword stall… owned by your family?"
Mu Chen laughed softly, a hint of confidence in his voice.
"You guessed it right, Fang Lin. Our stall forges the finest swords in the entire Tianjian Clan. You won't find a better blade anywhere else in this market."
Fang Lin responded with a faint, seemingly casual smile—
one that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Alright," he said lightly. "If you say so, then it must be true."
Fang Lin kept a faint smile on his face, but his thoughts slowly drifted inward.
In this martial world… nothing is ever done without a reason.
Cultivation, resources, reputation—
everything moved according to benefit and loss. A sword stall was never just a place to sell weapons; it was the root of a family's future. If the Mu family's swords spread throughout Tianjian Clan, then their name, influence, and standing would rise along with them.
This is not wrong, Fang Lin thought calmly.
This is simply how the cultivation world functions.
He had seen it countless times—in stories, in lives, in blood. Friendship, loyalty, and even gratitude were often placed on a scale. When growth was within reach, emotions became secondary. Principles bent, and relationships quietly adjusted themselves.
His gaze briefly shifted to Mu Chen, who was talking to the shopkeeper with ease and pride.
Even trust has its value, Fang Lin reflected.
And advancement always comes first.
Then Fang Lin spoke, his voice low and steady, as if stating an unchanging law of the world:
"Even if it is your best friend… if it indirectly helps his family grow, people are willing to forget friendship for a while."
There was no anger in his words.
Only understanding.
Vren looked up at Fang Lin with concern and softly asked,
"Big brother… what are you thinking about?"
Fang Lin gently led Vren toward the sword stall, his expression calm as he replied,
"Nothing, Vren. You'll understand when the time comes."
Vren blinked, slightly confused. He lowered his voice and murmured to himself,
"What… will I understand?"
His small fingers tightened around Fang Lin's hand, as if afraid of the answer—but trusting him nonetheless.
Inside the Mu Family sword stall, the air was thick with the scent of heated metal and oil.
Behind the front display, sparks flew rhythmically as blacksmiths worked in silence, hammering glowing steel on anvils. Each strike echoed like a heartbeat, steady and heavy.
Rows of swords were mounted neatly along the walls.
Some were broad and heavy, meant for brute force.
Some were thin and sharp, crafted for speed.
Others carried faint spiritual fluctuations—clearly forged with basic spiritual materials.
Mu Chen spoke proudly,
"These are outer-grade swords. Not treasures, but each one is reliable. Balanced. Perfect for beginners."
Fang Lin nodded, his gaze sweeping past the swords without stopping.
Then—
Vren suddenly slowed down.
His steps became hesitant, almost cautious.
Fang Lin noticed immediately and stopped.
"What is it, Vren?"
Vren didn't answer right away.
His eyes were fixed on a sword placed not in the center, but slightly to the side, almost forgotten.
It wasn't flashy.
No shining glow.
No aggressive aura.
The sword's hilt was wrapped in white cloth, so old that it looked as though it had been bound there for years. The fabric was frayed, torn at the edges, stained with age and dust. The blade itself was thicker than that of an ordinary sword, heavier in build, with no scabbard to accompany it. Dirt clung stubbornly to its surface, dulling what little sheen it once had, as if it had been left buried in the earth rather than displayed for sale.
Vren stepped forward without realizing it.
Slowly, carefully, he reached out and grasped the sword with both hands.
The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, his body stiffened.
The blade was tall—stretching from near his feet up to his chest. It was far too large for someone his age, far too heavy. Yet, for some reason, his grip did not loosen.
Mu Chen frowned as he watched.
"This sword doesn't look right for you," he said, glancing between Vren and the blade. "It's old, the edge isn't sharp, and it's heavier than the others. Honestly, it doesn't suit you at all."
As he spoke, Mu Chen extended his hand toward the sword, intending to take it back—
But Vren's fingers tightened.
For the first time since entering the market, his expression changed.
Not excitement.
Not joy.
But something deep, silent… and aching.
His knuckles turned white as he held onto the hilt, as if letting go would mean losing something he had only just found.
Fang Lin slapped Mu Chen's hand aside and said firmly,
"Mu Chen, don't try anymore. If Vren likes this sword, then he will keep this one."
He then turned directly to the seller, who was still staring at the blade in Vren's hands.
"Do you know anything more about this sword?" Fang Lin asked calmly. "And what is its price in spiritual stones?"
The seller looked at Fang Lin… then at the sword in Vren's grip.
So it's look like, he thought. Fang Lin is willing to buy this sword at any cost—for that child.
His eyes narrowed slightly as an old memory surfaced.
A few days ago, a beggar brought this sword to my stall. I gave him just one white spiritual stone and chased him away. That sword was nothing special back then…
A greedy light flickered in his eyes.
But now? This is a perfect chance to squeeze these rich families dry.
Putting on a calm and respectful expression, the seller bowed slightly.
"Young Master Fang, this sword is quite unusual. Based on my experience, it should be at least a Rank-2 sword."
He gestured casually.
"It has been lying in our stall for a long time, so it looks dirty and neglected."
Then his gaze shifted to the white bag hanging from Mu Chen's shoulder.
"As for the price…" the seller said slowly, "its true value should be no less than two hundred white spiritual stones."
He paused, then smiled generously.
"But since you are the Fang family's and our clan's rising star, I am willing to sell it to you for one hundred white spiritual stones."
His tone was respectful.
His smile was polite.
But deep inside, he was already celebrating his profit.
Mu Chen's brows twitched almost imperceptibly.
Rank-2? Two hundred white stones?
He nearly scoffed.
He had grown up around swords. He knew their value better than most people in this market.
That sword… at best, it shouldn't even be worth ten white stones.
His eyes swept over the blade again—its uneven weight, the dull edge, the lack of any proper spiritual resonance. Even the forging marks were crude.
This seller is lying through his teeth.
No Rank-2 aura. No spiritual fluctuation. Just an ordinary sword, dressed up with lies.
His gaze lingered on the man for a moment before hardening.
"I can't do anything anymore. He belongs to my family—and even if it's wrong, I can't oppose them."
Mu Chen clenched his fingers slightly.
For a moment, he considered exposing the scam.
But then his gaze shifted—
to Vren.The child was holding the sword tightly, as if afraid it might disappear the moment he loosened his grip. His fingers were white from how hard he was clutching the handle.
Mu Chen let out a slow breath.
If this were for Fang Lin, I'd stop it immediately.
But this isn't about profit… or value.
It was about Vren.
And Fang Lin had already made his decision.
Mu Chen looked at Fang Lin's calm expression—steady, unhesitating. There was no hesitation, no calculation in his eyes. Only resolve.
He knows he's being overcharged, Mu Chen realized.
And he doesn't care.
Mu Chen said nothing.
He neither warned Fang Lin nor confronted the seller.
Instead, he simply adjusted the white bag on his shoulder and stood slightly behind Fang Lin—silent, but supportive.
Some things aren't measured in spiritual stones, he thought.
And some losses… aren't losses at all.
Fang Lin exclaimed in shock,
"What? One hundred white spiritual stones?!"
He thought,
"I don't even know how to judge which sword belongs to which rank.
If this sword is truly Rank 2, then its value would naturally be much higher.
If that's the case… I'm willing to give away every spiritual stone I have today."
His expression slowly changed.
The shock faded, replaced by a faint, devilish smile.
"If this can secure my future, then what's a small loss like this?
Some sacrifices are worth enduring."
Vren held the sword tightly, his small frame looking even thinner beneath its weight.
Mu Chen stood beside them, his face tense, saying nothing.
The seller lowered his head, but the greed in his eyes could not be hidden.
Fang Lin looked at the sword once more, a faint smile resting on his face.