The scent of roasted spirit beast skewers mingled with the musty aroma of old scrolls in the bustling marketplace of Azure Peak. This was home to 20-year-old Lin Feng, not the glamorous training grounds of noble clans, but the chaotic heart of commerce. Lin Feng wasn’t destined for glory; his talent was... lackluster. He was a mere Qi Condensation stage 2, barely even a tickle in the grand scheme of cultivation. But what he lacked in innate power, he made up for with an uncanny knowledge of the market and an unyielding tenacity for a good bargain.
While other disciples meditated on the flow of spiritual energy, Lin Feng honed his senses on the subtle whispers of supply and demand. He knew the price of every herb, every ore, every piece of enchanted fabric within a five-mile radius. He could spot a fake jade bead from across the stall and sniff out a disguised discount like a bloodhound on a scent.
Lin Feng's days were a carefully orchestrated dance of haggling and hustle. He started early, scouring the edges of the market for discarded materials, fixing broken tools, and even offering to clean stalls for meager rewards – a handful of spirit coins here, a slightly bruised spirit peach there. He'd then spend the morning meticulously cleaning and polishing his small collection of goods: a few talismans he’d painstakingly crafted from salvaged materials, some basic healing salves he’d concocted from common herbs, and a selection of spirit beast knick-knacks he’d purchased cheap and refurbished.
“Elder Li,” Lin Feng would call out, his voice a smooth melody, “that jadeite rabbit charm is looking a tad dull today. I just happen to have a polishing cloth infused with refined spirit energy. A single spirit coin and its brilliance shall be restored!”
Elder Li, a seasoned cultivator with a penchant for shiny objects, would chuckle and begrudgingly hand over the coin. He knew Lin Feng was probably making a profit, but the kid had a knack for making even the smallest transaction feel like a win for both sides.
Lin Feng didn’t hoard his earnings. Each spirit coin was carefully accounted for, destined to be traded for resources that would nudge him closer to his next cultivation breakthrough. He diligently studied the effects of different herbs on his qi, constantly searching for the cheapest and most effective combinations. His “cultivation chambers” were often back alleys where he’d sit, cross-legged on a discarded sack, patiently absorbing the meager spiritual energy from the environment, his pockets jingling with the promise of future purchases.
He learned to leverage his knowledge. When a shipment of slightly damaged spirit beast hides arrived, Lin Feng was the first to the auction. He didn't bid high, but he bid smart, knowing the exact cost of the repair materials and the market value of a properly tanned hide. He ended up securing the entire lot for a fraction of its worth, earning him enough profit to buy a small bottle of Qi Refining Elixir – a crucial ingredient for breaking into Qi Condensation stage 3.
His progress was slow, excruciatingly slow, compared to the prodigies of the sect. But Lin Feng didn't envy them. He understood that their talent gave them a head start, but his work ethic, and his encyclopedic knowledge of the market, were his own unique advantages. He cultivated not only qi, but also cunning, patience, and the invaluable skill of negotiation.
One day, a powerful looking cultivator, clad in resplendent silks, swaggered into the marketplace, scoffing at the "petty wares" on display. He was looking for a specific rare herb – the Moonbloom Lotus – known for its ability to purify meridians. Lin Feng, eavesdropping from his usual corner, knew where one was blooming near the Whisperwind Cave, a place avoided by most due to its treacherous terrain.
He approached the haughty cultivator, not with groveling respect, but with a calculated air of confidence. "I may be able to procure the Moonbloom Lotus," he said, his eyes twinkling, "But its price is considerable. It's not just the herb itself, but the knowledge to find it, the risk involved in retrieving it, and of course, my time.”
The cultivator, initially amused, found himself drawn into Lin Feng’s intricate web of bargaining. Lin Feng didn’t demand an exorbitant price, but he expertly justified each coin, highlighting the rarity of the herb, the danger of obtaining it, and the value of his unique skills. He talked of opportunity cost, supply chain logistics and the fluctuating market for rare botanical specimens with a fervor that would have put any merchant to shame.
Finally, the cultivator, impressed despite himself, agreed on a price, a price that would not only secure Lin Feng the resources he needed for his next cultivation breakthrough but also a small fortune to invest in his growing enterprise. As he handed over the spirit stones, he finally understood. Lin Feng wasn't just a cultivator; he was a rising merchant prince of Azure Peak, forging his own path to power, one shrewd bargain at a time. His cultivation journey wasn’t paved with divine treasures or overwhelming talent, but with the sweat, wit, and endless hustle of a master negotiator. And in the long run, that might just be the greatest strength of them all.
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The biting wind whipped through the bustling market square of Azure Cloud City, carrying the scent of roasted meats, exotic herbs, and the ever-present underlying aroma of spirit stones. Ling Feng, a young man of no more than twenty, shivered slightly, pulling his worn, patchwork robe tighter around him. It wasn't the cold itself that bothered him, not anymore. He had become somewhat accustomed to the harshness of this world, a world where the strong thrived and the weak were left to scrape by. It was the chill that seemed to settle in his bones when contemplating his slow, arduous path to cultivation.
Ling Feng wasn't born into a prestigious clan, nor did he possess any miraculous, heaven-defying talent. He was, in essence, an ordinary cultivator struggling to survive in a world where cultivation was everything. He had to work tooth and nail, not only to earn spirit coins, but to refine his Qi and advance his cultivation.
Today, his focus was on a peculiar merchant huddled near the entrance of the market. A wagon, laden with furs unnaturally white and shimmering icicles that didn't melt under the midday sun, drew curious onlookers. The merchant, a gruff, heavily-bearded man with eyes as cold as the glacial north he had apparently come from, was hawking his wares.
Ling Feng recognized the origin of these peculiar treasures. The Ice Peaks of the Frozen Wastes, a place spoken of in hushed tones, a land where only the most hardy survived. He knew that these furs, despite their outlandish look, were excellent for crafting winter wear that bolstered Qi, and the icicles, rumored to hold refined water essence, were invaluable for refining pills that could help advance a cultivator's progress.
He approached, his eyes narrowed in appraisal. This was no ordinary haggling session. This was a dance of wits, a battle of wills where each spirit coin held the weight of progress.
“How much for a single pelt?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled, though his stomach churned with a mixture of desire and apprehension. He knew he couldn’t afford too much, but these goods were worth the investment.
The merchant eyed him up and down, a flicker of amusement in his cold gaze. “Five spirit coins. A fair price for such quality. Straight from the heart of the Frozen Wastes.”
Ling Feng snorted inwardly. 'Fair price?' He’d heard that song and dance a thousand times. “Five spirit coins? You must think I’m a fool, old man. I know that these pelts lose their luster the moment they leave the ice. Perhaps three, and I’ll take two.”
The merchant chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. “Three? You’re a shrewd one, boy. Alright, four, and that’s my final offer.”
The haggling continued, spiraling into a complex web of offers and counteroffers. Ling Feng used every trick he had learned over the years – feigning disinterest, highlighting minor flaws, and knowing when to push and when to back down. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he managed to secure two pelts and a fist-sized icicle for seven spirit coins, his meager savings taking a significant dent.
He knew the cost wouldn’t be truly worth it until these goods were converted into something that could help his cultivation. He wouldn’t be eating meat for another week, but he also knew this was necessary.
His days were filled with such meticulous struggles. He would spend half his time working odd jobs, carrying goods, cleaning stalls, and enduring the occasional humiliation from arrogant young masters who looked down on his humble beginnings. The other half was dedicated to cultivating. He would meditate diligently, drawing in Qi from the spirit stones he had painstakingly acquired, feeling the subtle flow of power through his meridians.
The progress was slow, painfully slow. But he refused to give up. He had reached the mid-stage of Qi cultivation, a small victory, but one that kept his hopes alive. He could feel the subtle increase in his internal Qi, the slight improvement in his speed and agility. He knew that the late stage of Qi cultivation was within his reach, but the path forward was shrouded in years of hard work and unwavering dedication.
He’d seen others, born with silver spoons, effortlessly reach the heights he struggled for. But he refused to harbor bitterness. He knew that his trials, his struggles, were forging him into something stronger, something resolute. He was not relying on luck or destiny. He was building his own future, one spirit coin, one hard-won pelt, and one breath of refined Qi at a time.
Ling Feng clutched the pelts and icicle, a small smile playing on his lips. The wind still bit at his face, but he no longer felt the chill of discouragement. He knew the path ahead was long and arduous, but he also knew that he would reach his destination, even if it took him many years. He was Ling Feng, a cultivator who earned his strength, and he would not be denied. The market was still bustling, the day's work was far from over. But for now, he would keep moving forward.
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