After leaving the Book Repository, Evan Chu went straight back to his room. He knew his time was short—he had to master the Windchaser Sword Codex as soon as possible if he wanted to win the family competition.
Lin Yanran wasn't in the room. After closing the door, Evan prepared to cultivate this mid-grade Profound-tier martial art.
Just from its name, Windchaser Sword Codex, you could tell this was a technique all about speed and lightness—like the wind, leaving no trace behind.
The full contents of the Windchaser Sword Codex appeared in his mind. This sword art had nine forms: the first three focused on footwork, the next three on attack, and the last three were the most difficult—so profound that Evan couldn't make sense of them yet.
It was impossible to practice such a martial art inside his cramped room, so Evan decided to head to the back mountain, where it was open and empty—no one ever went there, so he wouldn't be disturbed.
Just as he was about to leave, the Sword Spirit's voice sounded in his mind: "You'd better go find yourself a suitable sword first. Practicing the Windchaser Sword Codex without a sword is impossible. And besides, your stellar force is almost used up—you couldn't practice it even if you tried."
Evan understood what the Sword Spirit meant—he'd learned back when training Phantom Shadow Finger that only stellar force could bring out the true power of advanced martial arts; spiritual energy alone was useless.
But getting a suitable sword was tough. The family armory had plenty of weapons, but their quality was terrible—you couldn't even find a single low-grade Spirit Sword in there.
"I've got it! On the streets of Flowing Cloud City, people often sell their weapons when they're strapped for cash. Maybe I'll get lucky if I look around." With that, Evan made up his mind and left the Chu estate.
The streets of Flowing Cloud City bustled with people and carts, vendors shouting their wares and shopboys hawking nonstop.
It had been ages since Evan Chu walked these streets. Ever since he was branded 'trash,' his world shrank to just the summit of Flowing Cloud Mountain and his own home—he barely went anywhere else.
There were plenty of street vendors—selling herbs, pets, even martial arts manuals—but after searching for ages, Evan didn't see a single weapon stall.
A twinge of disappointment crept in, and he was just about to head home when a loud shout caught his ear: "Come look, come buy—low-grade spiritual-tier weapons, first come first served!"
Evan followed the voice and quickly found the vendor. He'd walked this way before and hadn't seen him—maybe the guy had just set up shop.
The vendor's shouts drew a crowd—clearly, weapons were a hot commodity.
Evan squeezed into the crowd and saw the goods laid out: three longswords, a large saber, and one weapon shaped like a Fangtian Halberd.
Someone quickly asked about the price. "How much for this sword?" The speaker was a middle-aged man in a purple robe, a longsword hanging conspicuously at his waist—he looked like trouble.
"Sword: one hundred Spirit Stones. Saber: eighty. Halberd: eighty!" the vendor replied honestly.
"That's so expensive!" someone exclaimed.
A single Spirit Stone was worth a hundred gold coins—enough for a normal family's monthly expenses. No doubt about it, the vendor's prices were steep.
"All my weapons are spiritual-tier—they're not expensive at all! If you want one, buy it quick. If not, make room for someone else!" the vendor shouted.
Evan really wanted to buy one, but he didn't have nearly enough Spirit Stones. All he could do was watch as the others snatched up every last weapon.
In the blink of an eye, all five weapons were sold. Evan felt a wave of disappointment.
As the crowd dispersed, the vendor happily packed up, clearly thrilled with his day's earnings. He wore a big, satisfied grin the whole time.
Just as the vendor was about to leave, he noticed Evan staring straight at him. "Something up, kid? If you want a weapon, come earlier next time. Today's stock is sold out."
"I really do want to buy one, but your prices are way too high. Do you have anything cheaper?" Evan asked. Truth was, he didn't care for cheap junk—there were plenty in the family armory—but he was probing for an opportunity.
"You really want to buy?" the vendor asked.
Evan felt a glimmer of hope. "That's right, but I don't have many Spirit Stones—if the price is too high, I can't afford it!"
The vendor studied Evan closely, then smiled. "I've got an iron sword, but it's all rusted. I found it by accident while searching for sword-casting ore in a cave—and that sword nearly cost me my life."
"Really? Tell me the story." Evan's interest was instantly piqued.
"It's too noisy here—let's find a teahouse and sit down. You seem like a good kid, and I'm in a good mood today, so I'll tell you the story of this iron sword!" With that, the vendor headed toward a nearby teahouse.
Evan followed after him. "Are you a swordsmith?"
Evan knew a bit about these special professions—swordsmiths and alchemists were both highly respected and usually held high status.
Normally, swordsmiths and alchemists rarely wandered the streets—they were usually recruited by major clans or sects. Hearing the vendor mention searching for sword-casting ore had made Evan curious.
"That's right, I'm a swordsmith—but my grade is too low for any sect to want me. So I forge my own swords and sell them myself," the vendor said with a bitter smile.
There were plenty of teahouses and restaurants along Flowing Cloud City's streets. As they talked, Evan and the vendor arrived at one.
The teahouse's shopboy greeted them warmly. The vendor picked a table and sat down. "This iron sword is a strange one—the material it's made from, even I don't recognize. It just looks rusted, so I call it an iron sword."
Evan sat down, judging the vendor to be about twenty-five or twenty-six. "You're older than me, so I'll call you 'big brother.' Now, tell me how this iron sword nearly got you killed—I'm really curious!"
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The shopboy brought over a pot of tea, poured it, and left. The vendor took a sip and said, "Ah, that's nice. The tea here is cheap and tastes great—really good stuff."
Evan kept quiet as the vendor set down his teacup and began, "I remember that time—I accidentally wandered into a cave, hoping to find sword-forging materials. What I didn't expect was a giant snake, thick as a barrel, hiding inside."
The vendor paused, clearly pleased by Evan's shocked expression. "That snake was at least a fifth-rank magical beast. No way I could beat it with my strength."
I didn't even have time to run before its huge tail whipped toward me—so fast and powerful, I can't even describe it."
"Did you get hit by its tail?" Evan asked, concerned.
"Of course I did! The cave was so small, I couldn't even see the tail coming—dodging was impossible. I still don't know how it managed that," the vendor said, his tone lingering on the danger as if reliving it.
A fifth-rank magical beast had the strength of an Earth Martial Realm expert. Surviving a blow from such a monster was a testament to the vendor's toughness.
"So what happened? Don't tell me you just got knocked out!" Evan said, taking a sip of tea.
"If only! I was sent flying by that hit, smashed into the cave wall, and brought the whole place down on myself. I was lucky enough to get buried alive," the vendor said with a bitter smile.
"Were you hurt?"
"Not too badly—just four broken ribs and a bit of blood loss. I was a long way from dead!"