The heavy bronze gates closed, cutting off the heat and dust of the street.
The interior of the Exchange Pavilion was cold, illuminated by the continuous glow of formations on the walls and filled with the clean scent of sandalwood. The main hall was crowded. Merchants and independent cultivators pressed against the rough stone counters, negotiating amid the clinking of coins and the snapping of abacuses.
Zhì Yuǎn did not slow his pace. The young man marched straight across the granite. His dense aura and the natural heat of his Qi cleared a path through the crowd, forcing the mercenaries to instinctively step back before the crushing weight of that energy. He led Yù Qíng and Yù Méi to the back of the pavilion, stopping in the restricted wing where the rustic stone gave way to polished hardwood.
Behind the counter, an attendant in strictly neat robes was organizing bamboo tokens. The man glanced at the trio's dust-covered boots and returned his attention to the table, boredom evident in his lack of eye contact.
— When is the grand auction? — Zhì Yuǎn's deep, direct voice broke the quiet at the table.
The attendant continued aligning the tokens without haste.
— In three days — he replied mechanically, his etiquette as polished as it was cold. — But the main hall requires proof of substantial capital before entry. Imperial silver does not buy seats.
— We have goods for evaluation.
The clerk's hands finally stopped. He let out a short sigh, accustomed to outsiders and peasants who came down from the mountains deluded about whatever weeds they had in their bags. Without wasting breath, the man raised his hand and politely pointed toward the dark corridor on the left.
— The appraiser will receive you inside.
———
The private evaluation chamber was a bare, sealed stone vault. In the center, a massive mahogany table divided the space.
The Appraiser entered shortly after. He was a slender man dressed in neatly arranged silks, with a polished and fixed smile on his face. Moving without any haste, he served tea into three fine porcelain cups that were already waiting on the wood.
— The Pavilion always welcomes the fruits of those who travel from afar — the man's voice sounded gentle. His eyes swept over Zhì Yuǎn's coarse linen tunic and dirty boots. — However, our time has a cost. What have the guests brought?
Zhì Yuǎn ignored the porcelain. His large hand descended to his belt, pulled out the first cheap ceramic vial, and dropped it directly onto the table.
The hollow thud of the crude clay struck the varnished mahogany.
The Appraiser's smile did not waver, but he did not even move his hands to touch the object.
— A rustic piece — the merchant said, his velvety tone perfectly masking his disdain. — Unfortunately, our house does not usually evaluate common clay collected from the edge of wells. I suggest you try the open markets outside the walls. Trade there is more… suitable.
Zhì Yuǎn leaned back against the chair.
— Remove the stopper — the young man's voice came out deep, cutting through the man's etiquette. — Evaluate what's inside, or give me the vial back.
Behind the chair, Yù Qíng gripped the fabric of her own sleeve. A silent, cruel smile formed beneath the dark veil, her black eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The Appraiser let out a short sigh, his patience running out. Maintaining an upright posture, he pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, held the vial with both hands, and twisted the cork.
The seal broke with a dry snap.
A torrent of pure Qi burst from the neck. The stone vault was swallowed in the same fraction of a second by a thick aura saturated with the smell of raw life and ancient rain.
The Appraiser's posture broke.
The shock of inhaling such purity destabilized the merchant's foundation. His hands spasmed, clumsily dropping the vial onto the wood. He staggered backward and bumped into the edge of the table. The cups toppled, the fine porcelain shattering against the limestone floor.
Unable to process the absurdity of that energy, the man's knees gave out. His right kneecap struck the corner of the mahogany with a wet crack before sinking to the floor. The capillaries in his eyes burst from the sudden sensory impact, staining the sclera with fresh blood. He opened his mouth, gasping, his mind collapsing before the miracle contained within the clay.
Zhì Yuǎn leaned forward. His calloused thumb moved forward and pushed the cork back into the neck, sealing the ceramic on the table with a firm thud.
With the seal, the dense aura that had been drowning the room dissipated.
The Appraiser swallowed dryly, his eyes still watering from pain. He supported his trembling hands on the table and spoke with a hoarse voice:
— One hundred thousand Inferior Spirit Stones. From my own coffers. Leave this vial here. I'll pay now.
Yù Méi stood near the door, eyes wide. For the first time, she truly felt how brutal the world outside was — and how dangerous her brother-in-law was.
Zhì Yuǎn ignored the desperation. His calloused hand descended to his belt, and four more identical vials struck the mahogany. Toc. Toc. Toc. Toc.
The cartilage in the Appraiser's neck cracked as he raised his face. The merchant held his breath before the incalculable fortune aligned on the wood.
— I want the anatomy manuals from the west wing — Zhì Yuǎn said, his voice low and direct. — And the rest in stones. Sixty percent Medium Grade, the rest Inferior.
The man in silk did not argue. Ignoring the pain and his own safety, he ripped the heavy ring of keys from his belt with shaking hands and crawled breathlessly down the corridor, desperate to empty the treasury and secure the miracle.
He disappeared down the corridor. The stone vault fell into absolute silence.
Yù Méi remained standing near the door, still trying to process what had just happened.
Behind the chair, Yù Qíng's legs gave out.
The woman's blood boiled. She took a step forward and dug her nails into her husband's shoulder. The face beneath the black veil was burning hot. Seeing the city's elite crawling before her man stirred an aggressive, territorial hunger in the eldest.
— The old inn reeks of peasants, A-Yuǎn — she whispered against his neck, gripping the coarse linen. — Get me out of there. I want a clean roof.
— And the cart and the luggage we left behind… — Yù Méi began.
Yù Qíng cut her off with a low, sharp voice:
— Forget it. I'll buy everything again. I don't want to set foot in that hole anymore.
Yù Méi lowered her head and did not insist.
Minutes later, the appraiser returned, breathless and sweating. He dumped dozens of glass cylinders and heavy animal-leather sacks onto the mahogany. The sound of thousands of Spirit Stones colliding against each other filled the room.
Zhì Yuǎn stored the anatomy scrolls in his belt. Then he grabbed the sacks of ore and threw everything over his own shoulder. The mountain of stones weighed a ton, but the man's cemented muscles did not even tremble. The trio turned their backs on the panting merchant and quickly crossed the bronze gates, plunging into the street.
They ignored the crowd and moved forward. Within minutes, they pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the Nine Clouds Inn.
The interior was luxurious. The lobby smelled of lotus incense and noble wood. Dark wooden tables occupied part of the space, where a few cultivators in fine robes conversed quietly while drinking. Waiters in dark uniforms moved between the tables with silver trays, while the low clinking of porcelain and the murmur of conversations filled the environment. At the main counter, two attendants worked in silence.
Zhì Yuǎn stopped in the middle of the lobby and dropped his load onto the floor.
Boom.
The floorboards cracked loudly under the weight. The innkeeper, a middle-aged man in impeccable clothes, choked in surprise, but quickly bowed his spine upon feeling the heavy aura emanating from the group.
Yù Qíng walked up to the counter.
Clack.
An Inferior Grade Spirit Stone struck dryly against the polished wood.
— The last room at the end of the east corridor for the girl — she ordered, her voice low and sharp. — Our chamber is the main one on the west side. And if anyone sets foot in my corridor tonight, I'll break their legs.
The man swallowed dryly, collected the stone with trembling hands, and handed over three thick iron keys.
The three climbed the stairs together. On the second-floor landing, Yù Qíng stopped. She reached for Zhì Yuǎn's belt, pulled out a small leather pouch tied there, and tossed it toward Yù Méi.
The pouch fell with a dense clink of silver.
— If you need food or anything else, use this — Yù Qíng said without looking at her sister. Her voice was dry, but not aggressive. — Don't leave your room unnecessarily.
Yù Méi caught the pouch in the air, pressed it to her chest, and nodded in silence. She turned left down the corridor while Zhì Yuǎn and Yù Qíng headed right.
The redwood door of the west chamber opened and closed with a dull thud. The thick iron bolt slid across the rail, isolating the space in the dim light.
The exact moment the bolt locked, Yù Qíng's composure exploded.
The girl's cold hands grabbed the collar of Zhì Yuǎn's gray tunic. Her small body shoved the man's weight against the redwood door. The black veil fell to the floor.
The young wife's pale face burned a feverish red.
— I almost came watching him kneel for you… — she gasped against his neck. — Now make me beg. Fuck me until I forget where we are.
Without waiting for a response, Yù Qíng yanked the ties of her own dress in a hurry. The navy-blue silk slipped off her shoulders and fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked from the waist up. Then her short nails tore at the ties of Zhì Yuǎn's tunic with urgency. The fabric opened at once, exposing his broad, warm chest.
She threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her bare breasts against her husband's burning skin. The thermal shock tore a low moan from her throat.
Zhì Yuǎn clenched his jaw. His teeth ground at the wet impact. The man's raw energy responded to his wife's desperation with ruthless force.
His calloused hand descended to his own belt. He tore the leather knot and pulled the linen down in one motion, freeing the feverish tension. In the next second, both large hands grabbed the back of the woman's thighs.
He lifted her off the ground. Using his own body weight, Zhì Yuǎn spun them in a rough jolt. Yù Qíng's back slammed hard against the solid wood of the door. She wrapped her slender legs around his hips, her lips parted in anticipation of the impact.
The friction began without preparation. Zhì Yuǎn drove his hips forward in a single, non-negotiable thrust, invading the girl's glacial barrier with the full gravity of his flesh.
Crack.
The redwood door creaked under the young woman's back. The dense sound of colliding flesh crushed the silence of the room, sealing the night in the inn with pure violence and sweat.