As they stepped past the gate's great shadow, Mu Yan trailed his hand along the colossal black stone wall. A deep, resonant vibration hummed against his palm, the thrum of a powerful array woven into the very fabric of the city. It was complex and formidable, but his senses detected something else layered beneath it—a pulse of power far more ancient, something that slumbered deep in the city's foundations. He filed the detail away, a puzzle for another time, and glanced at Qin Ying, whose eyes were taking in the scale of the city that had just opened up to them. He gave her a subtle nod, gesturing them forward into the flow.
A cacophony shattered the hushed voices and quiet. A sea of people flowed along the wide, well-paved road, its currents swirling with merchants, travelers, and city folk. The air, thick with a thousand scents, was a shocking contrast to the clean earth of the jungle; the sweet perfume of honey pies mingled with the savory aroma of roasting meat, the sharp tang of spices, and the sweat of a thousand bodies. The city was a masterwork of planning, with multi-storied shops and residences lining the thoroughfare, their signs advertising everything from necessities to rare cultivation materials that would tempt any martial artist.
The crowd was a sea of mortals intermingled with the distinct energies of cultivators. Mu Yan's sharpened senses could easily discern the faint sparks of Prana from apprentices and the steadier, more potent auras of those in the Foundation Establishment stage like himself. He had already counted dozens. In this place, he was just another face in the crowd.
"First things first," he said, his voice low enough for only Qin Ying to hear. "We need local currency." He touched his satchel, feeling the lump within. "Without money, we're still just vagrants."
After a careful survey of the bustling street, they located a shop where they could sell the core, its entrance flanked by carvings of auspicious beasts. Inside, the air smelled of old wood and peculiar herbs. A wiry, sharp-eyed old man behind the counter appraised them, his gaze lingering on their tattered clothes before landing on their faces.
Mu Yan presented the core and discussed it with the old man. After a short, shrewd negotiation where Mu Yan refused to be lowballed, a deal was struck. The core was sold for ten gleaming spirit stone fragments.
"I'll need to exchange some of this for common currency," Mu Yan stated.
The shopkeeper, pleased with his acquisition, happily obliged. Two of the fragments were traded for a heavy pouch containing nineteen gold coins, ninety silver coins, and a hundred copper coins. Mu Yan secured the pouch to his belt, the weight a small comfort.
[Author Note :
Copper Coins (Wen): The most basic unit of currency, used for everyday transactions among commoners. Easily accessible, low value.
Silver Taels (Liang): A higher denomination, typically used for larger purchases, land, or significant transactions. Valued for its rarity compared to copper.
Gold Taels (Jin): The highest form of mortal currency, reserved for major transactions, large estates, or as payment for skilled services (e.g., master craftsmen, mercenaries). Much rarer than silver.
Spirit Stone Fragments: Small, low-quality pieces of spirit stones, often used by Qi Condensation and Foundation Establishment cultivators. These contain a small amount of spiritual Qi.
]
Leaving the shop, their first stop was a clothing store. The ordeal in the wilds had left their clothes little more than torn, dirt-caked rags. He began picking out a few simple, durable sets of clothing in dark colors.
"You don't have to do this," Qin Ying denied. I already have enough, gesturing towards the ring on her finger.
"I insist," Mu Yan replied. He pressed a bundle of folded tunics into her arms, and after a moment's hesitation, she accepted them.
With their new clothes wrapped in paper, they found lodging in a modest but clean inn just off the main road. Mu Yan booked a room for their stay, the clinking of silver coins a satisfying sound. One by one, they took turns in the small washroom, the hot water washing away days of grime, blood, and fear, leaving them feeling almost reborn.
"Let's rest for a while," Mu Yan said, his voice low. "Then we'll find something to eat."
Qin Ying murmured assent.
They each claimed one of the room's two simple beds, a comfortable, quiet settling between them. After a time, they made their way downstairs to the common room and ordered a pot of hot soup to refresh themselves. As they ate, Mu Yan noticed a thoughtful expression clouding Qin Ying's face, her gaze distant as if she were lost in deep thought. He decided to wait, letting her have her peace, and focused on his meal.
Once they returned to the privacy of their room, the silence stretched, heavier this time. It broke when they both spoke at once.
"I have something to say—"
"There's something—"
They stopped, a flicker of surprise passing between them. Qin Ying offered a small smile and gestured for Mu Yan to proceed.
"Something is bothering you," he said, his tone gentle. "Will you tell me? I'll help if I can."