Yiwu Pavilion was the largest trading hub in the imperial capital of the Spirit Kingdom. No one knew when it had been built, nor by whom, yet none dared to cause trouble within its walls.
It not only sold goods of its own but also offered consignment services. Cultivators could place their possessions for sale here, with the pavilion taking merely five percent of the profit. Though the fee seemed steep, it came with formidable protection—those who traded here were guaranteed safety.
Rumors claimed that top-tier Mortal-Rank techniques had once been sold here, while high-grade Mortal-Rank manuals appeared frequently. Some were sold directly by the pavilion, while others were ill-gotten goods from cultivators who had robbed and killed to obtain them, wishing to avoid trouble by remaining anonymous. In essence, Yiwu Pavilion functioned much like an underground black market.
After leaving the Zheng clan's scripture repository, Gao Han and Zheng Ling made their way toward the pavilion, which stood at the very heart of the imperial capital. Strangely enough, even the royal clan and the great aristocratic families had tacitly accepted its presence. The secrets behind this arrangement were likely known only to the true rulers of those powerful houses. All that was known was that one must never stir up trouble within Yiwu Pavilion; if conflict erupted, one would bear the consequences alone.
As they walked, Gao Han noted that the imperial capital bustled with activity yet remained impeccably orderly. Most notably, no street vendors lined the roads—only proper establishments. A royal edict strictly forbade any activity that might mar the capital's cleanliness; those caught peddling goods on the streets faced imprisonment for several days.
Half an hour later, the two stood before Yiwu Pavilion. It comprised four towering structures: three six-story towers arranged in a triangular formation, encircling a central seven-story spire as if three guardians shielding their sovereign. The entire complex exuded grandeur and majesty, stirring awe in all who beheld it. Gao Han had never seen the Spirit Kingdom's imperial palace, yet he was certain this was the most magnificent building he had ever laid eyes upon—even the Zheng residence paled in comparison.
The central tower was octagonal, with a plaque bearing the bold characters "Yiwu Pavilion" affixed to each of its seven levels on every side, ensuring the name could be seen clearly from any angle. The three outer towers each specialized in different wares: the Weapon Pavilion, the Technique Pavilion, and a third unmarked structure that, as Zheng Ling explained, operated like a general market, trading everything from demonic beast materials and spiritual herbs to panacea.
Gao Han had come primarily in search of a low-grade sword, so they headed straight for the Weapon Pavilion. Upon entering, he immediately sensed a starkly different atmosphere— the sharp, piercing aura of countless weapons pressed against his very soul. He mused that an ordinary Qi Condensation cultivator would not dare linger here for long, let alone select a weapon.
Gao Han browsed shelf after shelf, where a dazzling array of weapons lay in orderly chaos. The first floor held only low-grade weapons, divided into distinct sections by type: sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, battle blades, hooks, and forks—every conceivable armament was present. The crowd within was diverse, young and old, men and women alike.
A servant approached then, and Gao Han sensed his cultivation at the second layer of True Essence—a remarkable sight that drew his gaze. Yet the servant carried no air of arrogance, offering only a gentle smile. "May I assist you, sirs?"
Zheng Ling, clearly a frequent visitor, was accustomed to such displays. "We are merely looking around," he replied casually.
The servant gestured politely. "Please, browse as you wish."
Gao Han and Zheng Ling nodded and made their way toward the section housing low-grade swords. The glint of so many blades left Gao Han nearly dazzled. Yiwu Pavilion lived up to its reputation as the finest trading hub for cultivators in the Spirit Kingdom; the sheer number of low-grade weapons here could sustain a minor power for years.
As Gao Han examined the swords, a voice dripping with disdain and arrogance cut through the air. "Well, well! If it isn't the young master of the Zheng residence! Will you be entering the tournament this time? I suggest you stay away—else you might end up crippled."
Gao Han turned to see a young man roughly Zheng Ling's age, around twenty-four, clad in a blue silk robe. He was extremely thin, little more than a bamboo pole, yet quite tall. His cultivation, however, surpassed Zheng Ling by a fair margin—peak second-layer True Essence, on the verge of the third. His right leg struck the ground with far greater weight than his left, revealing a foundation in leg techniques, yet calluses marked the虎口 of his right hand, betraying proficiency in saber arts.
Swordsmanship demanded balanced, agile precision, leaving calluses across the entire palm rather than just the虎口. Saber work, by contrast, relied on overwhelming, cleaving power, which wore at the虎口 most fiercely. Weapons as mighty as battleaxes typically left calluses on both hands.
"I see you've sunk even lower in the world. But then again, you're both trash at the first layer of True Essence—birds of a feather, as they say. Trash will always keep company with trash," the lanky man sneered.
"Who is he?" Gao Han asked. Outside the six great families, few dared to offend the Zheng clan. He had assumed the man belonged to one of those elite houses.
"His name is Ning Hai," Zheng Ling replied indifferently. "He comes from a nine-star family in the capital."
"How could a nine-star family dare to provoke an eight-star house like yours? Does he not fear annihilation?"
"You don't know the whole story. The Ning clan was once too insignificant to even rank nine-star. Only the clan leader, Ning Huapeng, possessed any real power—seventh-layer True Essence—with few other True Essence cultivators to speak of. But Ning Huapeng had a younger sister, Ning Huali, whose beauty was legendary. He married her into the imperial court, and Emperor Lu Yingjie was instantly smitten. Through ruthless scheming, she eliminated rival concubines and secured her position. With imperial backing, the Ning clan rose to nine-star status. Though their cultivation is weak, they carry themselves with unbearable arrogance." Zheng Ling nodded toward the man. "This is Ning Huapeng's only son, Ning Hai."
They had not lowered their voices, so every word reached Ning Hai's ears. His face turned the color of a pig's liver. He longed to teach Zheng Ling a lesson, yet no matter how he insulted him, Zheng Ling remained a scion of the Zheng clan—far beyond his station. Even with his aunt's protection, the Zheng clan could cripple the Ning family on a whim.
"You trash beside Zheng Ling—come lick my boots. Say 'Grandfather, I was wrong' a hundred times, and I'll spare you. Or else…" Ning Hai let out a malicious chuckle.
Gao Han's expression remained calm as he brushed a finger over the hilt of his sword. "When trees seek calm, the wind will not cease. Grandson, know your place." His hand tightened around the hilt.
"You!" Ning Hai trembled with rage. "You court death! I'll exterminate your entire clan!"
Before he could finish, Gao Han had drawn his sword halfway, his aura coiling like a storm.
"Brother Gao, don't!" Zheng Ling quickly grabbed Gao Han's wrist. "Violence is strictly forbidden here."
Ning Hai seethed with frustration, disappointed that Gao Han had not drawn his blade. He shot Gao Han a mocking glare. "Trash. Coward."
Gao Han glanced at him coolly, unruffled. "You are the trash here. You have no right to speak to me thus."
"Trash? You call me trash? Ridiculous! A first-layer True Essence whelp dares to mock a second-layer cultivator…"
Gao Han ignored him and returned to selecting a sword. Each low-grade blade bore a name, though the lesser ones were seldom used. Only weapons of notable quality earned proper titles, such as Lu Zhengchun's Overlord Sword. Ning Hai stared daggers at Gao Han before storming out in fury.
Gao Han continued his inspection of the sword rack. Blades of every hue glinted with unique radiance: the cyan Wind Sword, the crimson Blaze Sword, the golden Slaughter Sword…
Each bore a price tag. The Wind Sword, whose qi was exceptionally sharp and possessed great cutting power, cost one million one hundred thousand taels. The Blaze Sword, infused with fire elemental energy and devastating destructive force, went for one million five hundred thousand. The Slaughter Sword, inscribed with the phrase "Slaughter all glory, bury it in a single dawn," demanded one million eight hundred thousand taels.
These were high-grade low-tier weapons, barely inferior to the Overlord Sword—and their prices matched. All the silver Gao Han possessed amounted to just one million one hundred thousand taels. He could not even afford the Wind Sword, so he continued to the lower shelves.
The weapons there were of lower rank—mid-grade low-tier blades, most without names. Yet at the very end, Gao Han spotted a sword that bore a title. Its quality marked it as top-grade low-tier, nearly on par with Lu Zhengchun's Overlord Sword. Yet it rested among the lesser blades. Its blade was cyan-blue, clear as autumn water. He read its name: Featherfall Sword. Strangely, its price was absurdly low—merely eight hundred thousand taels, cheaper than most basic low-tier swords.
"Brother Zheng, I have a question. How might I summon someone to explain this?" Gao Han asked.
Zheng Ling smiled. "Simple." He picked up a metal rod nearby and tapped it against the price tag. The material resonated with a clear, ringing chime that grew louder as it echoed through the pavilion.
"Ah, Young Master Zheng!" A booming voice reached Gao Han's ears. A tall, powerfully built man approached, barely thirty years old yet exuding the aura of a ninth-layer True Essence expert.
Gao Han stared in astonishment and whispered to Zheng Ling, "Who is he?"
Before Zheng Ling could reply, the burly man spoke. "Young Master Zheng has brought a new friend! I am Xu Tianchuan, manager of the Weapon Pavilion. May I ask this young brother's name?"
"Merely a front-of-house manager?" Gao Han's surprise showed on his face. A ninth-layer True Essence expert at such a young age, with a boundless future, yet he served as a mere pavilion manager—Yiwu Pavilion clearly held far deeper secrets than met the eye.
"Gao Han of the Misty Sect," he replied, cupping his hands in salute. "I summoned you to ask about this Featherfall Sword. Its quality appears to exceed top-grade low-tier, yet its price is so low. Is it damaged?"
Xu Tianchuan's expression turned somber as he gestured to the sword. "This blade is no low-tier weapon—it is mid-grade, and intact at that."
"Then why…" Even Zheng Ling was baffled.
Xu Tianchuan explained with a bitter smile. "This sword was recovered from an ancient ruin by our pavilion. The site held countless manuals and divine weapons, with innumerable low-tier arms and many mid-grade swords. Yet this one rested in a unique spot—stuck deep within a frigid pool at the heart of the ruin. A cultivator stumbled into the water and discovered it, only to find it was a water-elemental sword."
Gao Han nodded in understanding. The martial path of the Tianwu Continent stretched back eons, with ample historical evidence dating back hundreds of millions of years. Ruins were plentiful, yet water-elemental swords were the least coveted of all. Cultivators who practiced water-elemental techniques were exceedingly rare, rendering such swords nearly useless once unearthed.
"This sword is actually quite exceptional," Xu Tianchuan went on. "It rapidly gathers spiritual energy from the air, converts it into water-elemental true essence, and releases it. It was originally displayed on the second floor, but after two years without a single buyer, it was moved down here. In another two years, it will likely be removed from sale entirely. A divine weapon such as this wasted away…"
The first floor of the Weapon Pavilion held only low-grade weapons; the second, mid-grade below top-tier; the third, top-grade mid-tier; the fourth, low-grade high-tier; the fifth, mid-grade high-tier; and the top floor, high-grade high-tier weapons.
From the fifth floor upward, however, weapons were priceless rarities. Even the enormous royal clan would strain to purchase such a treasure, and would be forced to defend it fiercely from pillagers.
Gao Han reached out and stroked the Featherfall Sword's blade. Its smooth surface shimmered with blue light, as if weeping over its years of neglect, a quiet sorrow and resignation radiating from it—a pearl dusted over, its brilliance hidden.
As he gazed at the sword's glow, Gao Han was drawn back to the five years of humiliation he had endured, a memory he refused to revisit. This sword shared his fate: both extraordinary in their own right—Gao Han with his peerless talent, the Featherfall Sword with its superior quality—yet cast aside for their connection to the water element.
Gao Han grasped the hilt and swung it a few times. "Senior, I will take this sword." He could feel the sword's sorrow. Whether he could wield it or not, he would buy it. If need be, he could claim first prize at the Spirit Kingdom Tournament and obtain another low-grade sword; his Steelpoint Sword would serve him well enough for now.
Xu Tianchuan stared in surprise at Gao Han's declaration. Zheng Ling urged him urgently, "Brother Gao, think twice! Though this is a mid-grade sword, it is water-elemental. You—" He wished to warn Gao Han not to waste his money, but fell silent at the sight of Gao Han's unwavering resolve, shaking his head in resignation.
As a merchant, Xu Tianchuan would never dissuade a buyer, yet he feared a later return. He struck a deal. "We can sell this sword to you for six hundred thousand taels, but with no returns. Do we have an agreement?"
Gao Han understood his concern, yet he had no intention of returning the sword. He agreed at once. After payment, Xu Tianchuan fitted the Featherfall Sword with a scabbard and handed it over.
Gao Han fastened the Featherfall Sword beside his Steelpoint Sword and patted it gently. He was pleased to have saved two hundred thousand taels. In high spirits, he suggested they visit the third tower.
He could not enter the Weapon or Technique Pavilions again; with less than five hundred thousand taels remaining, he could afford nothing. Even a mid-grade Mortal-Rank technique would be of little use to him. Still, he was elated—mid-grade weapons were typically wielded only by Spirit Fusion experts, and not all of them at that. Many unaligned Spirit Fusion cultivators still carried low-tier arms. Regardless of whether he could wield it effectively, he now bore a mid-grade sword.
Upon entering the third tower, Gao Han was struck by a wave of noise. The crowd here was vastly larger than in the Weapon Pavilion, a sea of cultivators from every realm. Goods were displayed on individual counters, each tended by a servant. The first floor catered to ninth-layer Qi Condensation cultivators, stocked with items for those at that realm.
Zheng Ling led Gao Han to the second floor. The third floor was accessible only to fifth-layer True Essence experts—not by rule of the pavilion, but because the materials within were of the highest grade. A powerful figure could easily make life miserable for one they deemed unworthy.
The second floor was far less chaotic; those who walked here were True Essence cultivators, mindful of their dignity and disinclined to make a racket.
The two browsed the floor, and Gao Han was dazzled by the treasures. The pelt of a first-grade spirit fox, a remarkably formidable demonic beast that even eighth-layer True Essence experts struggled to catch. A single bite could drain one's cultivation away slowly, leaving no time for remedy once the effects set in.
As Gao Han passed a counter, he suddenly froze, staring fixedly at a stone. It was pitch-black, priced at four million taels. He had not stopped for the cost, but for the stone and its inscription.
It was a spirit stone—the finest cultivation resource for True Essence and higher-level experts, worth more than its weight in gold. A single spirit stone could sustain a sixth-layer True Essence cultivator for half a year, and the spiritual energy within was far purer than the chaotic energy in the air, eliminating the need for tedious refinement.
Gao Han had once possessed such a stone, discovered in the lair of the bandit leader he had encountered during his first journey with the Yi merchant caravan toward the Misty Sect.