Though Dragoncrest coins aren't large, three thousand six hundred of them together make a hefty sum—over ten jin in weight. Quinn Shepherd casually hung the money pouch on the handle of his butcher's knife slung across his back, secretly admiring, "This plump Lord Marcus, the Seventh Son, really is generous with his spending." (Glossary note: Dragoncrest coin—currency of Dragoncrest City, worth 1,000 copper cash. Jin—Chinese unit of weight, about 0.5 kg.)
Lord Marcus's eyes lit up at the sight of the butcher's knife on Quinn's back. He smiled, "If you're willing to sell me that blade, I can offer you an even better price!"
Quinn shook his head, "This knife is far better than those jars. Not for sale."
"That's true. Just the material of your blade is worth more than those jars."
Lord Marcus handed the jars to his attendant, smiling, "These jars were refined by a Six Directions‑realm divine‑ability user—thirty-six linked spirit weapons called the Thirty‑Six Heavenly Star Jars. They can form the Heaven‑Gang Demon‑Refining Array. They're a bit damaged, but still powerful. I don't really need them; I just plan to take them out of the Great Ruins and sell them to the aristocracy for a tidy profit. I've seen the Thirty‑Six Heavenly Star Jars before, so I recognized them. You have a remarkable eye—have you seen them somewhere yourself?"
Behind him, an attendant coughed softly, "My lord, wearing the White Dragon Fish Robe isn't safe."
Lord Marcus frowned, "You people meddle too much. There's no fun in going out if you keep fussing!" With that, he shook his head and left.
Quinn knew that he was following alongside Qin Feiyue, who treated him with notable respect—her status must be extraordinary. It was only natural that her retainers would keep him out of danger.
Just as Quinn was about to leave, the stall owner who sold him the jars suddenly grabbed his sleeve, shouting, "Don't go! Those jars are worth over three thousand Dragoncrest coins and you want to buy them with just one? You need to pay me more!" He lunged for the money pouch hanging from Quinn's butcher knife.
Quinn frowned, and suddenly his hairs stood on end—a sense of danger. In a flash, someone in the alley rushed at him, sleeve flicking as a strange weapon slid out: two curved blades fused together, both ends hooked and razor-sharp. (Glossary note: zhang—Chinese unit of length, about 3.3 meters. Martial arts techniques—specialized methods for combat, often supernatural in xianxia stories.)
The man's palm faced downward, yet the strange weapon didn't drop—instead, it spun furiously beneath his hand, whistling as it slashed toward Quinn's neck!
Quinn surged yuanqi into his legs; in a flash, his body slid backward, just as the stall owner reached for his money pouch—Quinn was already a full zhang away.
Blade-light flashed—the attacker stuck close, moving like a shadow. His palm pressed the strange blade, flipping up and down. Quinn glanced quickly and saw a fine thread connecting the blade to the man's palm, with both ends of the weapon curved and the grip at the center, the thread tied to the hilt.
"Qi refined into thread, qi controlling the blade? He's a martial artist!"
This martial artist's blade technique was bizarre—his footwork slippery as a mudfish, darting and weaving. His style focused on slicing, and in the cramped alley, it was dangerously sharp; bright arcs of blade-light swept down in a curve, each cut packing real force.
Meanwhile, Quinn saw the other people in the alley growing restless, all rising to their feet.
Clearly, that pouch of Dragoncrest coins had stirred their greed!
Three thousand Dragoncrest coins—an absolute fortune, enough to drive anyone to greed and murder!
"Quick and decisive!"
Quinn suddenly stopped, letting yuanqi surge into both fists.
He shifted his stance, channeling yuanqi into his arms and fingertips. As his fist neared the martial artist's spinning blade, his fingers shot out from the fist like arrows drawn from a taut bow! (Glossary note: Yuanqi—cultivators' vital energy, source of supernatural power in xianxia.)
Thunder Chant Eight‑Form, second move: Thunder‑Pluck Pipa Flick! (Glossary note: Martial arts techniques—named moves and skills, often with supernatural effects.)
Dang—
His first finger flicked out, the force whistling through the air and knocking the spinning blade aside. The second flick snapped the martial artist's qi-thread.
Quinn's third finger flicked out, striking the man's palm. The martial artist grunted, his palm torn open with a bloody hole.
Each finger strike carried immense yuanqi. Though Quinn's qi couldn't unleash power like White Tiger Qi, it was still thick and forceful, lending his body tremendous strength. Three flicks broke the attacker's offense; then Quinn curled his fingers into a fist and slammed it into the martial artist's chest.
The force of that punch bent the man's body, his legs skidding backward across the ground.
Spring‑Thunder Charge to the Eastern Sea!
Quinn's footwork exploded—before the martial artist could even hit the ground, Quinn was already in front of him. The man's eyes flashed with terror, but midair, he couldn't defend himself.
At that moment, two more martial artists on either side of the alley saw Quinn close in and, eyes gleaming, sprang at him from both sides without a word!
Bang!
Bang! Bang!
The two martial artists hadn't even launched their first moves before Quinn's fist loomed larger and larger. It was as if a wild earth dragon crashed into their faces—both heads snapped back, skulls embedded in the wall, bodies dangling below!
Cracks spread through the wall like a spiderweb.
The martial artist Quinn had punched in the chest took another blow—this punch was even fiercer than the last, sending him flying backward even faster!
Figures flashed through the alley, followed by thunderous bangs. Lord Marcus and several divine-ability retainers hadn't yet left the alley; hearing the commotion behind them, they stopped and turned, faces shocked.
The martial artist was sent flying for a third time—straight toward Lord Marcus. The divine-ability retainers frowned, preparing to intervene, but Marcus laughed, "No need, let's just step aside."
They sidestepped, watching as Quinn spun behind the martial artist like a whirlwind, fists and palms flying—mixing hard and soft, long and short strikes. The final punch sent the man out of the alley with a crash, leaving him stuck in the wall across the street.
The wall broke under the impact of his backside; his body wedged into the wall, arms and legs limp, dangling helplessly.
Behind Quinn, more than a dozen martial artists had their heads stuck in the wall, bodies hanging from the bricks, arms and legs flailing, unable to free themselves.
"Impressive skill!"
The retainers were full of admiration. One whispered, "My lord, this youth moves like a surging tide, crashing waves splitting the air—he's using an extremely forceful Battle Skill. That punch and kick just now, if he breaks through the limit, he'll reach the divine-ability level!"
Lord Marcus was surprised, "He's using a Battle Skill?"
"A top-tier Battle Skill technique!"
Marcus nodded lightly. "I've heard the old stories—years ago, the Imperial Preceptor debated with Battle Skill masters, slaughtering countless experts. Since then, Battle Skill was branded heresy, never again equal to divine-abilities. Many heretics fled into the Great Ruins. Could he be a disciple of one of those heretics...?"
Another retainer murmured, "Dragoncrest City isn't Everpeace—it's a mix of all sorts, many desperate and dangerous. We must be cautious. That boy is likely backed by survivors of those old heretics. My lord, let's hurry to see the general."
Quinn hadn't killed anyone—he'd held back much of his strength, but leaving a dozen martial artists dangling from the wall was shocking enough. Of course, it didn't bother him; he'd sparred in the village with Grandpa Mark and others, fought Demon Ape and Fox Spirit outside, always going all out.
"Carrying so many Dragoncrest coins isn't safe. Better to buy a few things and send the rest back to the inn for Granny Sue."
He didn't dwell on the incident. On the way, he bought some silk and brocade, sending them to the inn—planning to prepare extra clothes for Grandpa Mark, the village chief, and the others.
Quinn bought a handful of curious trinkets, planning to give them to Grandpa Mark, Crippled Joe, and the others. When he returned to the inn, he was surprised to find Granny Sue nowhere inside—she’d gone out at some point without a word.
Quinn bought a handful of curious trinkets, planning to give them to Grandpa Mark, Crippled Joe, and the others. When he returned to the inn, he was surprised to find Granny Sue nowhere inside—she’d gone out at some point without a word.
Grandpa Blind was missing too.
"It's rare to come here—might as well see the world while I can," Quinn thought.
He took a hundred Dragoncrest coins, hid the rest of his money, and stepped out of the inn to wander. Dragoncrest City was bustling at night, more lively than he'd ever imagined: duels, challenge arenas, opera troupes, lion and dragon dancers, even vendetta-seekers.
He was dazzled, and before he knew it, he'd reached the city center. The architecture here was grand and imposing, full of ancient buildings—temples and shrines left by those who lived here before darkness swallowed the Great Ruins.
Quinn activated his Divine Firmament Heaven Eye, gazing at the old structures in awe. What looked like ordinary statues to others appeared to him as radiant gods blazing with light! (Glossary note: Divine Firmament Heaven Eye—martial technique that reveals hidden spiritual radiance and structures.)
He studied each one, neither fearful nor disrespectful, simply admiring the sculptors' godlike skill.
Dragoncrest City was built atop a vast ruin. These stone statues were crafted by ancient gods and demons; the flowing, masterful carving made Quinn feel as if he glimpsed beautiful, lost divine abilities.
"Looks like you could learn a lot of techniques just from these statues," he mused. (Glossary note: Techniques—gongfa, the cultivation and martial arts methods of this world.)
Quinn marveled aloud. Just then, a middle-aged man approached, grinning: "Hey, country boy—want to make money? I've got a way. The City Lord's Manor is recruiting fighters for the arena. Win once, and you'll earn a hundred Dragoncrest coins!" (Glossary note: Dragoncrest coin—currency of Dragoncrest City, worth 1,000 copper cash.)
Quinn shook his head.
The man went off to find someone else, soon hooking an excited youth who followed him into the City Lord’s Manor.
"The City Lord’s running an arena? What’s he up to?" Quinn wondered, puzzled.
Just then, a booming voice rang out: "Ever since the Cult Master of the Heavenly Demon, Tyson Li, died, the Mistress has been elusive—never seen, never heard. Who’d have thought she’d come to my Dragoncrest City? Your arrival brings glory to us all!" (Glossary note: Cult of the Heavenly Demon—major sect, Tyson Li is the deceased Cult Master.)
The voice was thunderous, clearly backed by immense cultivation. Quinn’s ears rang, and many on the street fainted from the shock! (Glossary note: Cultivation—the process of training and increasing one's power, often supernatural.)
Quinn was stunned: "Cult Mistress? Could that be Granny Sue?"
"You’re too kind, City Lord." A voice replied, sweet and bewitching.
Just hearing her made Quinn’s mouth go dry, as if a thousand inner demons were leaping up and dancing inside him. (Glossary note: Heart demons—manifestations of inner desires or fears, often triggered by supernatural influence.)
All across the street, people suddenly acted drunk—dancing, laughing, faces twisted in wild abandon. After a moment, everyone snapped back to normal, exchanging bewildered looks, with no idea what had just happened.