Lin Mo walked toward the central trading pavilion, his hands resting casually in his heavy coat pockets.
Beside him, Chu Lingxiao held her paper cup of taro milk tea with both hands. Her delicate wooden scabbard, cracked along its southern seam from her surging sword intent, clinked softly against her hip with every step.
Behind them, Tie Niu carried Tang Xiaomi’s bamboo basket with one hand, looking around the market like a tourist at a night bazaar. Old Master Mo followed with young Xiao Song, his silver-ringed Heavenly Appraisal Eyes scanning the weapon displays with quiet interest.
The crowd outside the grand entrance of the Treasure-Sword Pavilion had grown three layers deep.
In the center of the showroom, an arrogant cultivator in silk robes of emerald green and white was slamming his fist onto a heavy glass display case.
Above the man’s embroidered Daoist cap, a greasy gray-black halo flickered with a miserable score (Goodness: 18/100). A silver token at his belt was carved with a soaring crane and a mountain peak: Mount Qingcheng Sword Sect.
“Shopkeeper Song, do not test my patience!” the green-robed deacon barked.
He was Lu Feng (Goodness: 18/100), an outer disciplinary deacon of Mount Qingcheng. Behind him stood four young inner disciples wearing silver headbands, sneering at the elderly shopkeeper and kicking the display stands.
