The herb market's tent was a sanctuary of shadow and scent, its air heavy with crushed leaves and the pulse of spiritual energy, a stark contrast to Dark Star's cold streets. Song stood before a small camp table, his herb sack clutched tight, the Forest Soul's faint glow a secret burning in his grip. The buyer, a young woman with sharp features, sat flanked by an elderly scribe, his scroll poised to record. Her gaze locked on Song, and she froze, a flicker of shock crossing her face, as if he were a specter from a forgotten nightmare. She knows me, Song thought, his pulse spiking, the memory of the Black Altar's cart—her voice guiding him—resurfacing. The scribe glanced at her, brow furrowed, sensing her unease.
Song's interface flickered:
Name: Blue Fen
Role: Lunar Phoenix Representative
Rank: Estimated High Incarnation
Name: Unknown
Role: Scribe
Rank: Unknown
"Long years of prosperity, my lady," Song said, bowing slightly, opening his sack.
Blue Fen's pause lingered, her eyes wide, unbreathing, as if time had stopped. The scribe's concern deepened, his gaze darting between them. Song hesitated, the silence oppressive.
"My lady…?" he ventured, breaking the stillness.
"Greetings, young gatherer," Blue Fen said, her voice steady but strained, recovering her composure. "You wish to sell your herbs?"
Song's heart lurched—her voice was unmistakable, the same from the cart after the Twilight Sovereign's ritual. She saved me, he realized, stunned, but he buried the question, his face a mask of calm. He reached deep into his sack, pulling out the Forest Soul, its blue-green sprout glowing faintly on the table.
"Is this…?" Blue Fen murmured, leaning forward. "The Forest Soul?"
"Correct, my lady," the scribe said, his eyes gleaming with approval.
Song's interface updated:
Item: Forest Soul
Rank: High (young sprout)
Effect: Enhances Incarnation cultivators' progress
Potential: Foundation for Fusion breakthrough
Value: Significant for high ranks
The scribe spoke, his voice measured. "This can boost Incarnation cultivators by a minor boundary, perhaps even aid a Fusion breakthrough. For Pattern Formation, it's less useful, but for Incarnation masters, it's invaluable."
He turned to Song, skeptical. "Boy, how did you get this?"
"Found it among common herbs," Song said, shrugging, his calm a practiced lie.
"Just found it…" the scribe muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
Blue Fen's voice cut through, decisive. "We'll buy the Forest Soul. Twenty thousand Merit Points."
Song's breath caught. Twenty thousand? A fortune that could storm the Battle Library's gates, a dream beyond his First Lord reach. He hesitated, weighing the offer, his ambition clashing with caution.
Blue Fen, reading his pause, spoke again. "Thirty thousand. That's the highest we can go without losing on resale."
"T-Thirty thousand," Song stammered, disbelief choking him. "Agreed."
"Done," Blue Fen nodded. She paused, then extended a hand, a small maple leaf emblem glinting. "Take this. If you need the Lunar Phoenix's aid, show it to any member and state your issue. It's my personal token."
Song's mind reeled. Why this favor? The emblem was a lifeline, a sect's promise to a mere First Lord. His interface updated:
Item: Lunar Phoenix Token
Effect: Grants one favor from the sect
"I… thank you, my lady," Song said, bowing deeply, confusion swirling.
The scribe's eyes widened, his shock mirroring Song's. Blue Fen's gesture defied logic—a First Lord with such a token?
"If that's all, let the next petitioner in," Blue Fen said, her tone casual, as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.
"Y-Yes," Song mumbled, pocketing the emblem as his interface chimed:
Merit Points: +30,000
He stumbled out, the tent's flap closing behind him, the market's bustle a distant hum. The Forest Soul was gone, but its price—30,000 Merit Points and a sect token—opened paths he'd never dared imagine. The Battle Library, new techniques, a real future, he thought, ambition surging.
Yet Blue Fen's recognition gnawed at him. She was there, at the Black Altar. Her favor wasn't charity—what did she expect? Song's Spiritual Perception hummed, sharper in the quarter's energy-rich air, as if the Forest Soul's sale had stirred his latent power.
The Lunar Phoenix quarter sprawled around him, its forest paths alive with cultivators, their strikes echoing. Song's First Lord rank felt less a chain, the token a key to Dark Star's elite. Clans, alchemists, Pavilions, he mused, Rill's scroll a guide in his mind.
As he left the quarter, Dark Star's spires loomed, the city's pulse a challenge. The token and points were power, but the Black Altar's ghosts lingered. What's my next move? he wondered, the emblem heavy, his path uncertain but brimming with possibility.
To be continued…