The outer sect marketplace was far livelier than Fang Lin expected.
Stone streets stretched across the district in winding paths, packed tightly with disciples moving from stall to stall. Vendors shouted constantly from both sides of the road, displaying spirit herbs, beast materials, weapons, medicinal pills, talismans, and manuals of every kind.
The entire place pulsed with activity.
This was the first time Fang Lin had truly wandered through the marketplace since entering the sect, and it immediately became clear to him that cultivation was far more than talent and training alone.
Resources mattered.
Weapons mattered.
Connections mattered.
Everything within the sect revolved around strength, and strength itself required support.
Fang Lin walked calmly through the crowd, his gaze silently observing the surroundings.
As he passed by, some disciples immediately recognized him.
"That's Fang Lin…"
"The one who defeated Zhou Yan…"
"He actually came to the market himself…"
Whispers followed him constantly, but Fang Lin paid them no attention.
His thoughts remained focused.
The battle against Zhou Yan had revealed too many weaknesses.
Fighting barehanded against an armed opponent was dangerous, even with Flowing Wind Steps supporting him. One mistake could have cost him heavily.
He needed a weapon.
And healing resources.
Especially now, when he had already attracted the attention of dangerous people.
After walking for some time, Fang Lin eventually stopped before a weapon stall.
Rows of swords, sabers, spears, and daggers rested neatly on wooden racks. Most emitted faint Qi fluctuations, though none appeared extraordinary at first glance.
Behind the stall sat an older man lazily leaning against a chair.
The moment Fang Lin approached, the old man glanced at him briefly.
"Looking for a weapon?"
"A sword," Fang Lin replied calmly.
The old man pointed casually toward the racks.
"Choose yourself."
Fang Lin slowly walked past the displayed weapons.
Most were ordinary.
Some were too heavy.
Others poorly balanced.
A few had decent craftsmanship but unstable Qi conductivity.
None of them felt right.
Then his eyes stopped on a dark silver sword resting quietly near the back of the rack.
It looked simple.
No decorations.
No excessive carvings.
But the moment Fang Lin picked it up, his eyes flickered faintly.
Balanced.
Extremely balanced.
The grip fit naturally into his hand, while the blade itself carried a faint coldness.
He slowly unsheathed it halfway.
A sharp gleam reflected briefly across the metal.
The old man raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Good eyes."
Fang Lin swung the sword lightly once.
Smooth.
Fast.
The motion felt natural, as though the sword itself flowed with his movements.
"How much?" Fang Lin asked.
"Eighty gold coins," the old man replied immediately.
Fang Lin's expression didn't change.
"Too expensive."
The old man snorted.
"That sword is forged from Black Iron Alloy. It's durable, sharp, and channels Qi properly. Eighty is already fair."
"Fifty."
The old man stared at him.
"Impossible."
Fang Lin calmly returned the sword toward its sheath.
"Then I'll look elsewhere."
"Wait."
The old man clicked his tongue irritably.
"Seventy."
"Fifty-five."
"You bargain like a street merchant."
"Fifty-five."
The old man glared at him for several seconds before finally waving his hand dismissively.
"Fine, fine. Take it."
Fang Lin calmly handed over the gold.
The old man muttered under his breath while wrapping the sword.
"You young monsters are all the same…"
Fang Lin ignored him completely.
Once the sword was attached to his waist, he immediately felt more secure.
Not stronger.
But more complete.
A cultivator without a weapon was always lacking something.
Especially in a sect where conflicts could erupt at any moment.
After leaving the weapon stall, Fang Lin continued deeper into the marketplace until the scent of medicinal herbs gradually filled the air.
Several pill shops lined the street ahead.
Disciples constantly entered and exited carrying jade bottles or herb pouches.
Fang Lin entered one of the shops quietly.
Behind the counter stood a thin middle-aged man carefully sorting medicinal bottles.
"What do you need?" the man asked without looking up.
"Healing pills."
The man glanced at Fang Lin briefly before reaching beneath the counter and placing several small jade bottles on the table.
"Low-grade recovery pills," he said. "Useful for external injuries and Qi exhaustion."
Fang Lin inspected one briefly.
The quality was decent enough for outer sect use.
"How much?"
"Thirty gold coins per bottle."
Expensive.
But necessary.
Without hesitation, Fang Lin purchased two bottles.
Future conflicts were unavoidable now. Having healing pills available could easily determine survival in critical situations.
After storing the bottles away, Fang Lin left the shop and prepared to head back toward the outer disciple quarters.
But just as he turned—
He stopped.
A faint sensation brushed against his spiritual sense.
Very weak.
Yet distinct.
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed slightly.
His perception instinctively spread outward.
Then slowly—
His gaze shifted toward a small stall near the edge of the market street.
Unlike the others, this stall was nearly abandoned.
Dust covered most of the displayed items. Several old manuals lay piled together carelessly, while the disciple running the stall looked half asleep from boredom.
Clearly, business here was terrible.
Fang Lin walked toward it calmly.
The disciple barely looked up.
"Everything there is cheap," he muttered lazily.
Fang Lin's eyes swept across the manuals.
Most were damaged.
Incomplete.
Worthless.
Then—
His spiritual sense trembled faintly again.
At the bottom of the pile rested a worn black manual with a torn cover. Half the title had faded away completely.
To ordinary eyes, it looked useless.
But Fang Lin could sense something strange within it.
A faint fluctuation.
Hidden extremely deeply.
His eyes sharpened slightly.
He picked the manual up slowly.
The disciple immediately laughed.
"You actually want that thing?"
Fang Lin looked at him calmly.
"What about it?"
"That broken manual?" the disciple shrugged. "Nobody can cultivate it."
Fang Lin remained silent.
The disciple continued casually,
"It's incomplete. Half the circulation paths are missing. Some people tried practicing it before and nearly injured themselves."
"No one touches it anymore."
Fang Lin lowered his gaze toward the manual again.
Incomplete?
No.
The moment his spiritual sense touched the pages carefully, he noticed something unusual.
The missing sections did not feel naturally damaged.
Instead—
It felt concealed.
Almost as if someone had intentionally hidden the true contents beneath another layer.
Fang Lin calmly flipped through several pages.
The more he observed—
The stronger the strange feeling became.
This technique was not ordinary.
Far from it.
"How much?" he asked casually.
The disciple looked surprised.
"You still want it?"
"Yes."
The disciple shrugged indifferently.
"Ten gold coins."
Cheap.
Far too cheap.
Without hesitation, Fang Lin handed over the gold.
The disciple immediately brightened, clearly pleased to finally get rid of what he believed was useless trash.
Meanwhile, Fang Lin quietly stored the manual away.
The moment it fully entered his possession—
His spiritual sea rippled faintly.
Inside it, the grey stone pulsed once.
Fang Lin's expression changed slightly.
Again.
It reacted again.
The same reaction it showed toward unusual things.
Toward hidden things.
His grip unconsciously tightened slightly.
"This manual…"
"It's definitely not simple."
Fang Lin calmly turned and walked away from the marketplace.
But inwardly—
His thoughts had already become completely focused on the black manual.
Because his spiritual sense was telling him something clearly.
This technique…
Might be extraordinary.