Fellow Daoist, this deal is on

The stall owner considered himself a seasoned veteran in the cultivation world.

He had once been a formidable Golden Core cultivator who commanded awe and respect.

But in his youth, blinded by arrogance and convinced of his own prodigious talent, he had made too many enemies along his path to power. In the end, his adversaries banded together to ambush him.

Though he managed to escape with his life, his Golden Core was shattered, and barely a tenth of his cultivation remained.

Still, his sharp eye and some of his old tricks stayed with him, allowing him to occasionally acquire rare treasures.

He drifted between the marketplaces of various sects,

hoping to stumble upon that one last chance to restore himself.

Given his background, was there any storm he hadn’t weathered?

Some Foundation Establishment cultivators, eager to show off, could clumsily conjure the shapes of beasts and birds—but those were mere hollow imitations, lacking spirit and refinement, their energy crude and unstable.

But just now…

The stall owner had seen it clearly.

That miniature fire dragon, though small, was fully scaled, its whiskers swaying, and its eyes—especially those eyes—held a trace of genuine sentience.

When it glanced at him, there was even a hint of innate disdain.

Most crucially, the spiritual energy was condensed without the slightest leakage, a testament to a mastery of spellcraft that bordered on the inconceivable.

This was no technique a mere Qi Refining cultivator could wield.

Even most Foundation Establishment cultivators would struggle to achieve such perfection.

Only years—no, decades—of relentless refinement could hone one’s arts to such an otherworldly degree.

And yet, this young man claimed to be an outer disciple?

Impossible!

There was only one explanation…

The other party’s cultivation must at least be… Golden Core!

Only then could he possess such profound spellcraft while flawlessly disguising himself as a mere eighth-level Qi Refining cultivator—so convincingly that even the stall owner couldn’t detect a single flaw.

And so, he was utterly baffled.

A Golden Core expert, masquerading as an outer disciple, haggling with him over a few thousand low-grade spirit stones at his measly stall?

What was the point?

Was this some kind of game?

No!

The stall owner’s heart suddenly clenched.

His identity…

Had it been… exposed?

Was this man targeting him, or just testing him?

In an instant, all color drained from the stall owner’s face, and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

No, he couldn’t stay in the Love-Longing Sect any longer.

He had to leave. Now.

“Y-you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

His voice was hoarse and strained as he lowered his head, frantically packing up his stall, not daring to meet Su Ji’s gaze again.

Su Ji was taken aback by the stall owner’s reaction.

What was going on?

He’d only shown off a little—why was the man so terrified?

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Originally, Su Ji had intended to spin a tale about being a hidden “genius” of the Love-Longing Sect, the future heir apparent kept in the shadows until the time was right to stun the world.

He’d hoped to persuade the stall owner to invest in him—sell him the goods at a discount now, and in return, Su Ji would waive all Love-Longing Sect transaction fees once he became sect leader.

“Boss, no need to pack up so fast. Aren’t we doing business?”

“E-esteemed… no, fellow Daoist, this old man isn’t feeling well today. I’m closing early. Please, go about your business.”

The stall owner didn’t even look up, his hands moving even faster.

Right now, all he wanted was to flee this dangerous situation.

Su Ji was puzzled for a moment.

Then, fragments of information clicked together in his mind, forming a startling yet plausible conclusion.

Things were unfolding in an unexpectedly favorable direction.

Having figured it out, Su Ji didn’t rush.

He simply stood there, arms crossed, watching the stall owner pack with an amused smile.

The stall owner felt his skin crawl under that gaze, as if he were prey being sized up by a primordial beast. Even his breathing became cautious.

“Boss, what about that spool of thread? Still selling?”

Su Ji’s voice was light, almost teasing.

“N-no! Not selling!”

The stall owner flinched like a scalded cat, hastily pulling out a wooden box from his robes and offering it with both hands.

“If the esteemed Daoist fancies it, please take it. Consider it… a gesture of goodwill from this humble old man.”

Right now, he just wanted to buy his way out of disaster.

Su Ji blinked.

A freebie?

This was even better than he’d hoped.

“Ah, I couldn’t possibly.”

His words were polite, but his hand was already reaching for the box.

After a moment’s thought, he decided he shouldn’t take it without giving something in return.

Mostly because if the stall owner later realized he’d been tricked…

So, he pulled out the withered remains of a Frostbloom Herb from his sleeve.

“I’m not one to take advantage. Here, take a look at this.”

The moment the desiccated Frostbloom Herb appeared before the stall owner’s eyes,

his pupils contracted violently.

So it was true!

He knew everything!

Even something like this…

The stall owner’s breathing grew ragged, as if two beasts were tearing at his heart.

One was fear.

This young man was too unpredictable—his methods inscrutable, his identity a mystery, and worst of all, he seemed to know the stall owner’s deepest secret.

The other was an irrepressible craving.

The remains of a Frostbloom Herb!

To others, it might be nothing more than a lifeless husk, devoid of spiritual energy.

But to him, it was the only hope of reforging his Golden Core!

For decades, he had clung to life, waiting for this very chance.

Now it was right in front of him. If he let it slip away, he would regret it for the rest of his days.

The stall owner took a deep breath, as if mustering every ounce of his strength, and finally made his decision.

When he looked up, the panic was gone from his wrinkled face, replaced by grim resolve.

He cast a soundproofing barrier.

“Fellow Daoist, this item is of utmost importance to me. Name your price!”

Su Ji: ???

What now?

According to Su Jiu, these two items were roughly equivalent in value—a fair trade.

But the stall owner seemed to be offering spirit stones instead?

Could this day get any better?

Su Ji’s mind raced.

If the man was volunteering to pay, who was he to refuse?

He recalled the stall owner’s initial asking price for the Heavenly Silkworm Thread—five thousand low-grade spirit stones.

Slowly, he raised his hand, palm out, fingers splayed.

“Five thousand.”

Hearing the number, the stall owner’s face twitched, his expression cycling through pain, struggle, and finally, a strange sort of resigned acceptance.

His voice was strained when he spoke.

“Five thousand… high-grade spirit stones?”

Su Ji’s eyebrow shot up.

Brother…

High-grade?

Five thousand high-grade spirit stones equated to a staggering five hundred thousand low-grade spirit stones!

Was he serious?

For a heartbeat, Su Ji felt like his chest had stopped.

He nearly blurted out an expletive, but his ironclad self-control held firm.

The act must go on!

Instead of showing delight, his face took on a faintly impatient look.

“Well? Is there a problem?”

The stall owner let out a long sigh, his smile bitter.

The price was exact—right at the limit of what he could bear.

“A fair price, all things considered…”

“It seems the esteemed Daoist has seen through everything.”

Su Ji: ……

Right. Of course.

He’d seen through it all.

The stall owner began explaining, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Su Ji.

"I possess a mutated Ice Spirit Root. To most, this withered hundred-thousand-year-old Blue Ice Grass husk is nothing more than a medicinal herb—tasteless to consume yet a pity to discard..."

"But I am different..."

"My Golden Core is shattered, while its plant spirit has long dissipated. We are two broken halves, a match made by heaven and earth."

"I can use it to replace my Golden Core, nourishing it with ice spiritual energy to simulate the Blue Ice Grass's process of drawing power from the world. In turn, the energy it reflects back can no longer strengthen itself but instead becomes my reserve..."

The stall owner spoke with growing excitement, his eyes gleaming as if he could already see himself restored to his former peak.

"Though I may lose the chance to advance to Nascent Soul, Great Xia hasn’t had a Nascent Soul cultivator in ages!"

"Even the sole drawback ceases to exist..."

"Five thousand top-grade spirit stones—it’s absolutely not overpriced!"

He raised his head, meeting Su Ji’s gaze with solemnity.

"Fellow Daoist, this deal—I accept!"