The southern border meadow, which only a week prior had been an overgrown expanse of wild scrub and limestone gravel, had transformed into a bustling commercial frontier township.
Framed by two forested ridges, the newly built Hundred Treasures Border Commerce Depot stood proud against the morning sky. Its wide outer edge wooden wall was built from seasoned iron-oak logs, with smooth granite foundation blocks fitting together without mortar. Inside the depot grounds, three dozen timber market stalls lined a wide crushed-gravel concourse, shaded by woven canvas awnings that fluttered in the mountain breeze.
At the center of the yard, sixty heavy freight wagons were arranged in organized unloading lanes.
Young Chen Er stood by his draft oxen, nervously clutching his wooden whip. Around him, the sheer physical presence of the safe hall’s residents was enough to turn a mortal man’s knees to water. Passing by his wagon was Xiong Da, a seven-foot-tall Earth-Bear beastman whose muscular torso was wrapped in a rough leather blacksmith’s apron. The bear’s arms were thicker than tree trunks, covered in coarse brown fur. Every step he took made the packed gravel shudder faintly.
Suddenly, Chen Er’s lead wagon tilted sideways with a sharp CRACK!
A stone had slipped beneath the left rear wheel, causing the heavy hardwood axle to slip off its jack. The wagon, laden with three tons of solid northern iron metal bars, began groaning dangerously, threatening to crush Chen Er’s leg against the stone curb.
“Look out!” Chen Er yelled, instinctively throwing his arms over his head.
Before the wagon could collapse, a massive, fur-covered paw clamped down onto the hardwood chassis.
THUMP.
Xiong Da planted his rear paws into the gravel. With a casual grunt, the earth-bear blacksmith lifted the three-ton loaded wagon single-handedly. He held the iron-plated timber chassis level at waist height as if it were a basket of turnips.
“Steady on, little brother,” Xiong Da rumbled, flashing a mouthful of impressive but fully non-threatening teeth. “Grab that cedar block by your boots and slide it under the hub. If you bend the iron spindle, Old Man Tie will make me hammer it flat till midnight.”
Chen Er scrambled forward on his knees, shoved the heavy wedge under the axle hub. Then he stepped back in dazed disbelief.
The bear beastman lowered the multi-ton wagon gently onto the support block, patted the timber frame with a heavy thud. Then it pulled a dried apple slice from his leather pocket, tossing it into his mouth with a cheerful wink before ambling toward the iron scales.
“He... He lifted three tons of iron like an empty wicker basket,” Chen Er whispered to his friend, his heart hammering against his ribs. “And he called me little brother.”
Across the market yard, fear was dissolving faster than salt in boiling water.
At the central exchange pavilion, Su Ling’er stood behind a huge set of polished bronze balance scales forged by Tie Shan. Her three snow-white fox tails swayed behind her in graceful harmony with her movements. With a delicate jade counting frame in one hand and a fine wolf-hair brush in the other, she checked the weight manifests presented by Patriarch Lu Feng’s senior clerks.
“Refined northern pig iron, thirty tons, approved ninety-eight percent pure,” Su Ling’er announced, her clear, musical voice carrying over the chatter of the yard. “Grade-A hard coal, fifty tons, low-sulfur content. White mulberry paper, five thousand reams. High-mountain tea seeds, eight hundred pounds.”
She made a series of swift, elegant notations in her rice-paper ledger, then gestured toward a row of polished cedar caskets.
“Total valuation pegged against our standard parity metric: eight thousand four hundred dan of spirit rice,” Su Ling’er smiled. She looked at Patriarch Lu Feng. “In accordance with our bilateral commerce treaty, payment is disbursed in standard Spirit Bamboo Tokens.”
Two fox attendants lifted the lids of the caskets. Neatly stacked inside were thousands of seasoned iron-bamboo slips. Their surfaces shone with an antique bronze patina, each humming with the unbeatable, ancient qi deep ring of Lin Xiao’s personal seal.
Patriarch Lu Feng stepped forward, his eyes shining with deep satisfaction. He picked up a handful of the light, silky tokens. That let them clatter through his fingers like sky jade tiles.
“Every wagon driver and guard shall receive their travel pay and bonuses in these tokens right away,” Lu Feng commanded his chief accountant. “Inform the men that the market stalls are open for personal exchange.”
Within half an hour, the true miracle of the border depot unfolded.
One hundred human wagon drivers, wagon drivers, and guards—each holding a small leather pouch containing five to ten Spirit Bamboo Tokens—ventured out into the market lanes. At first, they walked timidly, clutching their money close to their chests. But the smells drifting from the market stalls quickly shattered their pause.
“Hot mountain turnip and wild pheasant stew! One token for a large earthen bowl, comes with two baked barley flatbreads!” called out an elderly badger-spirit grandmother wearing a clean blue headscarf.
“Wild mountain peach preserve! Cold-pressed mountain honey! Sweet enough to cure a broken heart, only half a token per glazed jar!” shouted a pair of young fox-maidens from behind a table stacked with colorful baked-clay pots.
Chen Er walked up to a stall operated by a soft-spoken badger artisan who was displaying neat rows of polished stone jars. Above the stall hung a wooden signboard written in clear brushwork: Heavenly Root Bone-Mending & Pain-Relieving Salve.
“Elder,” Chen Er said slowly, holding out a single bamboo token. “My feet... I’ve walked fifty miles over rough mountain gravel. The blisters on my heels burst two days ago. My left knee has ached since the winter frost.”
The badger smiled gently, his dark whiskers twitching. “Sit on the bench, son. Take off your boots.”
Chen Er sat down and peeled off his ragged cloth wraps. It exposed raw, bloody heels and a swollen, inflamed knee joint. The badger elder dipped two claws into a jar of pale jade-colored ointment, gently spreading the cooling salve across Chen Er’s raw skin.
The effect was instant and shocking.
The throbbing, burning fire in Chen Er’s heels vanished within two breaths, replaced by an icy, refreshing tingle that pierced deep into his bone marrow. Before his very eyes, the torn skin knitted together. The inflamed blisters shrank and dried into smooth, healthy pink skin. Chen Er stood up and placed his full weight on his left leg. Then, the chronic ache that had tormented him for three years was fully gone.
“My leg...” Chen Er gasped, stomping his heel against the packed gravel in utter disbelief. “It doesn’t hurt! It feels better than when I was sixteen!”
He thrust two bamboo tokens into the old badger’s paws. “Elder, please, give me two more jars! My mother has terrible arthritis in her wrists—she can barely spin wool in the winter!”
“Take them, take them,” the badger chuckled, wrapping the jars in clean hemp cloth. “Use it morning and evening, son. Tell your mother the Myriad Spirit Safe hall sends her good health.”
Similar scenes played out across the entire square. Human wagon drivers were buying jars of healing balm, gourds of sweet peach cider, and woven baskets of sweet yams. In return, safe hall artisans were eagerly purchasing steel needles, rolls of dyed mortal cotton cloth, brass bells, and packets of southern ginger from the human merchants.
Down at the lower end of the yard, a sudden, thunderous clang rang out. It echoed off the surrounding granite cliffs like a temple bell.
CLANGGGGGGG!
Around an open-air testing forge, fifty earth-bear artisans and human wagon drivers had gathered in a wide ring. At the center stood Old Man Tie, stripped to the waist, his massive chest fur glistening with sweat. His golden star-bronze right arm hummed with contained spiritual fire as he brought his five-hundred-jin meteor-iron hammer crashing down upon a red-hot bar of imported northern iron.
A blinding shower of pure white sparks cascaded into the hearth.
Tie Shan lifted the glowing iron bar with heavy iron tongs, inspecting the grain under the sunlight. A wide, booming grin split his grizzled beard.
“Good iron!” Tie Shan roared with laughter, his voice rattling the awning posts. “Dense, low carbon, no melted rock waste pockets! With thirty tons of this metal, my forge can pound out six hundred heavy-duty iron plowshares and two dozen heavy water gates before the month is out! Patriarch Lu, your guild doesn’t cheat on metal quality!”
Patriarch Lu Feng, who was standing nearby holding a bamboo flagon of cold spring water, bowed with a proud chuckle. “The Hundred Treasures Guild stakes its five-decade reputation on the purity of our iron, Master Tie. Deliver us more of your spirit wine and salves. I’ll personally bring you a hundred tons on our next voyage!”
Floating comfortably above the crowd in a shallow wicker basket suspended from a low pine branch, Lin Xiao bobbed contentedly.
A small, semi-clear blue slime arm held a small clay cup filled with freshly brewed tea, made from the newly arrived southern high-mountain tea seeds. Lin Xiao took a gentle slurp, letting the earthy, tannic, sweet brew circulate through his void core.
“Ah, that’s the stuff,” Lin Xiao sighed in pure transmigrator bliss. “Proper high-mountain green tea. It’s got a crisp bite at the front and a sweet roasted finish. Add a bit of wild honey to this, and it’ll be perfect for afternoon porch-sitting.”
He looked down at the courtyard below.
As twilight settled over the mountains, lanterns were lit along the market stalls. Their warm yellow light reflected off the smiling faces of humans and beastfolk alike. Several human wagon drivers had pulled wooden flutes and two-stringed fiddles from their bedrolls. They struck up a lively border-town folk melody. Around the grand central stone hearth, a dozen earth-bear cubs and fox children were clapping their paws in rhythm, laughing as an old human wagon driver showed a comical, stumbling tavern jig.
“Look at that,” Lin Xiao whispered warmly to the Dao Spirit. “A week ago, these folks were scared of each other. Now they’re sharing fried dough, trading salves, and playing fiddle tunes around the same fire. Commerce and good food are truly the greatest peacemakers in the world.”
“Sociological integration confirmed, Host,” the Dao Spirit responded smoothly. “Inter-species hostility has dropped to zero point zero eight percent within the depot outer edge. Trade volume exceeds all first projections by two hundred and twenty percent.”
Lin Xiao closed his curved eyes, swaying gently in his wicker basket beneath the evening stars. Peace had arrived at the border, sweet and fragrant as a fresh cup of mountain tea.