The week following Lin Feng's victory over Stone Fist passed in a blur of training, chores, and the gradual establishment of routines. Each dawn began with Lao Wei's special medicinal tea—which Lin Feng had taken to calling "Punishment Broth"—followed by meridian-opening exercises that grew marginally less excruciating each day.
Morning training focused on qi perception, with Lin Feng practicing on increasingly complex objects: plants with their vibrant living energy, small insects with their frantic, darting qi, and even water droplets, which Lin Feng discovered had surprisingly varied signatures depending on their source.
Afternoons were dedicated to physical training—basic stances, breath control, and simple combat movements that Lao Wei insisted were "foundational rather than functional," whatever that cryptic distinction meant.
By the end of the week, Lin Feng could reliably identify objects blindfolded based solely on their qi signatures, a skill that both impressed and slightly disturbed him.
"It's peculiar," he commented to Lao Wei during their seventh day of training. "I've spent nearly all my life ignoring half of what my senses tell me. It's like suddenly gaining a new sense I didn't know was missing."
"Most people live their entire lives half-blind," Lao Wei agreed. "They see only surfaces, never the energy flowing beneath."
"Which makes for a useful advantage," Lin Feng noted pragmatically. "Speaking of advantages, when do we move beyond rock-fondling and plant-whispering to something more... applicable?"
"Impatient as always," Lao Wei chuckled. "As it happens, today marks a transition in your training. You've demonstrated sufficient aptitude in Perception to begin basic Manipulation."
Lin Feng perked up. "Does this mean I'll finally learn to do something with all this sensing ability? Perhaps something that doesn't involve sitting motionless for hours contemplating the inner life of pebbles?"
"Indeed," Lao Wei confirmed. "Tomorrow, you'll join the market team."
"Market team?" Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "That sounds suspiciously like a euphemism for 'begging squad.'"
"The Beggars' Sect engages with the market in multiple capacities," Lao Wei explained with dignified precision. "Information gathering, resource acquisition, public relations—"
"Begging, theft, and making a nuisance of ourselves," Lin Feng translated. "Got it."
"Your cynicism, while occasionally accurate, overlooks the sophistication of our operations," Lao Wei said. "The market team is essential to both the sect's sustenance and its intelligence network. It's also where initiates first learn to apply their qi perception in practical scenarios."
"Practical how, exactly?"
"You'll work with Senior Disciple Mei, who specializes in resource assessment."
"Another euphemism I assume?"
"She'll teach you to identify valuable items through their qi signatures," Lao Wei clarified. "Particularly those whose external appearance belies their true worth."
"Ah," Lin Feng nodded with sudden understanding. "We're looking for valuable things disguised as worthless things. Very on-brand for the Beggars' Sect."
"There is poetry in finding worth where others see only refuse," Lao Wei said. "Besides, you'll find Senior Disciple Mei's approach... educational."
Something in the older beggar's tone made Lin Feng suspicious. "Why do I get the feeling you're enjoying a joke at my expense?"
"Not at your expense," Lao Wei corrected with a small smile. "At your future expense, perhaps. Senior Disciple Mei has a unique teaching philosophy."
"Wonderful," Lin Feng sighed. "More cryptic statements and ominous foreshadowing. At least tell me what time I should report for this market adventure."
"Dawn, at the main gate. Wear your oldest clothes."
Lin Feng glanced down at his tattered ensemble. "As opposed to my formal imperial reception attire? These rags are practically disintegrating as we speak."
"Perfect," Lao Wei nodded approvingly. "You'll blend right in."
---
Dawn found Lin Feng at the compound's main gate, stifling yawns and wondering if the Beggars' Sect had some philosophical objection to reasonable waking hours. He had expected to meet a group, but found only a single figure waiting—a woman of indeterminate age whose appearance was a masterclass in strategic dishevelment.
At first glance, she looked like any street beggar—matted hair, dirt-streaked face, clothing that seemed assembled from various rags. But Lin Feng's newly trained perception noticed subtle inconsistencies: the dirt was applied rather than accumulated, the apparent tatters were precisely arranged, and beneath the chaotic exterior was a posture of perfect balance.
"Senior Disciple Mei?" he ventured.
The woman's sharp eyes assessed him briefly. "You're Lin Feng. Lao Wei's latest project."
It wasn't a question, so Lin Feng didn't treat it as one. "I prefer to think of myself as a promising investment rather than a project, but semantics aside, yes."
A flicker of amusement crossed her face before disappearing behind a mask of professional indifference. "Lao Wei mentioned your tendency toward excessive verbosity."
"He called me mouthy, did he?" Lin Feng grinned. "I prefer 'linguistically gifted.'"
"In the market, you will speak only when spoken to," Mei continued as if he hadn't interrupted. "You will observe everything, comment on nothing, and do exactly as I instruct without hesitation or debate. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Lin Feng replied. "Silent, observant, obedient. I can already tell this will be a rewarding partnership built on mutual respect and open communication."
Mei's expression didn't change, but Lin Feng sensed a ripple in her qi—something between irritation and reluctant amusement.
"Follow," she commanded, turning toward the city without further discussion.
They made their way through gradually awakening streets, taking a circuitous route that seemed designed to avoid main thoroughfares. Mei moved with the practiced invisibility of someone who had perfected the art of going unseen, and Lin Feng did his best to mimic her unobtrusive movements.
"First lesson," she said without turning or slowing. "The market has three layers. What do you see around you?"
Lin Feng glanced at the stirring city—merchants setting up stalls, apprentices carrying goods, early shoppers beginning to gather. "Commerce. The exchange of goods and services."
"That's the surface layer," Mei confirmed. "The visible economy that everyone acknowledges. Beneath that is the gray layer—trades that happen in shadows. Smuggled goods, questionable services, transactions better left undocumented."
"And the third layer?" Lin Feng asked.
"Information," Mei said. "The most valuable commodity flows constantly beneath the visible exchanges. Who knows what, who needs what, who fears what—this is the true economy of any marketplace, and the one we harvest most carefully."
They reached a small side entrance to the main market district. Mei paused, regarding Lin Feng critically.
"Your appearance is too clean," she decided. "Too healthy."
Before Lin Feng could protest that he was hardly the picture of robust health after years of malnutrition, Mei produced a small pouch from within her rags. With expert movements, she applied some kind of powder to his face, smudged it strategically, and mussed his hair into careful disarray.
"There," she said with professional satisfaction. "Now you look properly desperate."
"I wasn't aware desperation had an aesthetic standard," Lin Feng remarked.
"Everything has a standard," Mei replied seriously. "Begging is performance art with life-or-death stakes. Too pathetic, and people avoid you from discomfort. Too healthy, and they assume you're undeserving. The goal is to appear salvageable—worthy of temporary charity without requiring ongoing commitment."
Lin Feng found himself reluctantly impressed by the calculated approach. "And the qi manipulation aspect?"
"Patience," Mei cautioned. "First, you observe. Today, your task is simple: find ten objects being sold below their true value."
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
"How am I supposed to determine value if I can't ask prices?"
"Use your perception," Mei said as if it were obvious. "Items have qi signatures that indicate their true nature, regardless of appearance or assigned price. Quality, rarity, age—all leave energetic imprints that cannot be falsified."
"So I'm looking for... what exactly? Things that glow more impressively than others?"
Mei's expression suggested she was reconsidering Lao Wei's judgment in selecting Lin Feng for special training. "You've spent a week sensing the qi in objects. Apply that skill. Look for signatures that contradict appearances. A 'common' herb with unusually potent energy. A 'ordinary' stone with traces of rare minerals. A 'simple' tool made with exceptional craftsmanship."
"Needles in haystacks," Lin Feng summarized. "Except the haystacks are market stalls and the needles might be actual needles."
"Precisely," Mei nodded. "Meet me at the north fountain at midday with your findings." Without waiting for a response, she melted into the growing crowd, leaving Lin Feng alone with his assignment.
"Wonderful," he muttered to himself. "Find ten valuable things without talking, paying, or drawing attention. Just another relaxing day in the life of a beggar initiate."
For the first hour, Lin Feng simply wandered, observing the market's rhythm as it fully awakened. Mei had been right about the layers—beneath the obvious commerce, he noticed subtle exchanges happening in shadows, nods of recognition between certain merchants, small packages passing from hand to hand with minimal acknowledgment.
Eventually, he made his way to the herb sellers' section, figuring medicinal plants would have more distinctive qi signatures than mundane goods. Positioning himself near a corner stall, he adopted the vacant expression of someone with nothing better to do than loiter uselessly.
While appearing to stare into space, he extended his qi perception as Lao Wei had taught him, focusing on the bundles of dried plants arranged on the merchant's table. Most radiated the expected energy—mild medicinal properties, standard growing conditions—but one small, unassuming bundle caught his attention.
The plants looked identical to their neighbors, labeled as common fever-reducers worth perhaps two copper coins. But their qi signature pulsed with unexpected potency, suggesting far greater efficacy than their appearance indicated.
Lin Feng memorized their location and moved on, encouraged by this first discovery. Over the next few hours, he identified several more mismatched items: a "decorative" dagger with metal that sang of exceptional quality, a batch of "ordinary" clay cups bearing traces of rare minerals in their glaze, a supposedly-common mushroom variety with the distinctive energy pattern of a much rarer medicinal fungus.
By midday, he had found eight items he was confident were significantly undervalued. As he made his way toward the north fountain, he spotted a merchant selling old books and scrolls from a threadbare blanket spread on the ground.
Something about one particular scroll caught his attention—not its physical appearance, which was unremarkable, but a subtle resonance in its qi that seemed almost to call to him personally. Curious, he shuffled closer, maintaining his vacant beggar persona while extending his perception.
The scroll's energy was unlike anything he'd encountered during training—complex, layered, and strangely familiar, as if it somehow recognized him. Lin Feng was so absorbed in the unusual sensation that he nearly missed the merchant's suspicious glare.
Shuffling away before he could draw unwanted attention, Lin Feng filed the strange scroll in his mental list of findings. Whatever it was, its qi signature alone made it his most interesting discovery of the day.
At the north fountain, Mei was already waiting, now transformed into an entirely different persona—a merchant's servant, complete with a small basket of purchases and appropriately deferential posture.
"Eight herbs, two crafted items?" she asked quietly as Lin Feng approached.
"Seven herbs, one fungus, one dagger, one set of cups," Lin Feng corrected, impressed by her accuracy. "And a scroll with unusual qi. How did you know?"
"I've been watching," Mei said simply. "Your technique is unrefined but your instincts are good. You gravitate naturally to genuine value."
"Is that a compliment or an observation?"
"An assessment," Mei replied. "Now, describe your findings, starting with the most valuable."
Lin Feng detailed each item, explaining the discrepancies between appearance and qi signature. When he reached the scroll, Mei's expression sharpened with interest.
"You say it seemed to respond to your personal qi?"
"Not exactly," Lin Feng struggled to describe the sensation. "More like... recognition. As if the scroll and I were somehow acquainted, though obviously that's impossible."
"Not necessarily impossible," Mei mused. "Certain cultivation texts are created with resonant qi that responds differently to different individuals. They're exceptionally rare and typically guarded within sect libraries, not sold by street vendors."
"So either I'm imagining things, or there's a valuable cultivation manual being sold as common literature," Lin Feng concluded.
"Show me," Mei directed, her casual demeanor now focused and professional.
They returned to the book merchant, Mei now playing the role of a scholar's assistant examining goods for her master. While she engaged the merchant in conversation about various texts, Lin Feng hung back, observing the exchange with newfound appreciation for Mei's skill at transformation.
She eventually made her way to the scroll, examining it with feigned academic interest while subtly using her own qi perception. After a brief negotiation, she purchased it for a handful of copper coins, along with several other innocuous items as cover.
"Interesting," was all she said as they walked away. "Very interesting."
"Are you going to elaborate on that cryptic assessment?" Lin Feng asked when they were safely out of earshot.
"The scroll does indeed contain unusual qi patterns," Mei confirmed. "Whether it's actually responding to you specifically will require further investigation. Well spotted, Initiate Lin Feng."
"Thank you, I think," Lin Feng replied. "Is our market expedition concluded, or is there more silent observation on the agenda?"
"One final task," Mei said. "Now that you've identified undervalued items, you need to acquire one."
"Acquire as in purchase?" Lin Feng asked hopefully. "Because if you mean steal, I should mention that my talents lie more in running away than in sleight of hand."
"Neither," Mei replied. "You will use appropriate Beggars' Sect methods to obtain the item of your choice from your list."
"Which means...?"
"You tell me," Mei challenged. "You've seen sect members operating in the market before. You've observed their techniques. Apply what you've learned."
Lin Feng thought back to his observations of beggar sect members—how they created situations that made giving the natural response, how they used subtle positioning and timing to maximize results.
"I think I understand," he said slowly. "It's about manufacturing the right circumstances rather than directly asking or taking."
"Precisely," Mei nodded approvingly. "I'll observe from a distance. You have until sundown."
Left to his own devices, Lin Feng considered his options. Most of his identified items were too expensive or too closely guarded for a beggar to reasonably acquire. But the undervalued medicinal herbs—those might be achievable with the right approach.
The herb merchant's stall was busy when Lin Feng returned, customers crowding around the more expensive remedies. The bundle of potent but undervalued fever-reducers sat neglected at the corner of the display, overlooked in favor of flashier options.
Lin Feng positioned himself nearby, observing the merchant's patterns. The man was constantly distracted by questions about his pricier wares, leaving the lesser items largely unattended. More importantly, he seemed to have a soft spot for mothers with children, giving them slightly better deals and more attentive service.
A plan formed in Lin Feng's mind—not one he was particularly proud of, but effective nonetheless. He retreated to a quiet alley, adjusted his appearance to look even more pathetic, and then splashed water on his face from a rain barrel. With his hair plastered to his forehead and his skin glistening with artificial sweat, he now looked convincingly feverish.
Re-entering the market, he made his way to the herb stall and deliberately collapsed nearby, making sure to land where he would be noticed without actually disrupting business. His timing was perfect—a young mother with an infant was just completing a purchase when Lin Feng crumpled to the ground, coughing pitifully.
"Child," the woman exclaimed, immediately concerned. "Are you ill? Where are your parents?"
Lin Feng mumbled something incoherent about being alone and sick, his gaze deliberately unfocused. The merchant, spotting the commotion, looked torn between concern for a suffering child and annoyance at the disruption to his business.
"He has fever," the woman declared, placing a hand on Lin Feng's forehead. "You, herbalist! Surely you have something for this poor orphan?"
Put on the spot publicly and faced with a sympathetic mother's expectant gaze, the merchant found himself in exactly the situation Lin Feng had engineered—where generosity became the path of least resistance.
"I—well, yes, of course," the merchant stammered, reaching for the nearest fever remedy—conveniently, the undervalued bundle Lin Feng had identified earlier. "These herbs, steeped in hot water, should reduce the fever."
He handed the bundle to the woman, who immediately passed it to Lin Feng with gentle instructions on its use. Lin Feng thanked her weakly, clutching the herbs as if they were precious treasure.
"What do you charge for this kindness?" the woman asked the merchant, reaching for her coin purse.
The merchant, now caught in a web of public expectation and moral pressure, waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing. It's a simple remedy, barely worth charging for. Consider it a service to the city's unfortunate."
Lin Feng almost felt bad for the man—almost, but not quite. The herbs were indeed far more valuable than the merchant knew, but the transaction had been completed voluntarily, with no direct deception on Lin Feng's part.
With profuse thanks to both adults, Lin Feng shuffled away, maintaining his pitiful demeanor until he was safely out of sight. Once alone, he examined his prize with satisfaction. The herbs' qi signature confirmed his earlier assessment—these were potent medicines worth at least ten times what the merchant had believed.
At the agreed meeting point, Mei waited with a knowing expression. "Fever performance," she observed. "Classic technique, well executed. Though the merchant might recognize you if you return."
"A calculated risk," Lin Feng acknowledged. "I doubt he'll remember one pathetic street child among many. Besides, I have no plans to make a habit of manipulative acquisitions."
"Don't you?" Mei raised an eyebrow. "Such techniques are core to the Beggars' Sect methodology. We create circumstances where giving becomes the natural choice, then carefully select what is given."
"There's something ethically questionable about that approach," Lin Feng pointed out.
"Is there?" Mei challenged. "The merchant chose to give the herbs freely. The mother felt the satisfaction of helping a suffering child. You received medicine you genuinely needed for your sect training. All parties acted according to their own values and received appropriate benefits."
Lin Feng wasn't entirely convinced, but he had to admit there was a certain elegant efficiency to the method. "It feels like cheating somehow."
"The world is already unbalanced," Mei said with sudden intensity. "The wealthy hoard resources while the poor starve. Merchants charge what the market will bear, not what items are truly worth. We merely... redistribute opportunities based on more accurate information."
"Justified theft is still theft," Lin Feng argued, though without much conviction.
"Is it theft when you take what was freely given?" Mei countered. "Is it wrong to create circumstances where people's better nature can emerge? We don't force anyone to give—we simply make it easier for them to choose generosity over selfishness."
Lin Feng didn't have a ready answer for that philosophical knot. Instead, he changed the subject. "So, did I pass today's test?"
"With surprising competence," Mei confirmed, accepting the subject change. "Your perception is unusually developed for an initiate, and your situational manipulation shows promise. Lao Wei was right about your potential."
Coming from Mei's previously stoic demeanor, this was effusive praise indeed. Lin Feng found himself absurdly pleased at the assessment.
"We return now," Mei continued. "Tomorrow, you'll begin learning basic qi manipulation techniques to enhance your acquisition capabilities."
"You mean I'll learn to actually do something with all this perception?" Lin Feng asked hopefully.
"In a limited capacity, yes," Mei nodded. "Though don't expect dramatic results immediately. Manipulation requires precision and control that typically takes months to develop."
As they walked back toward the compound, Lin Feng's mind returned to the strange scroll. "What about that text with the unusual qi signature? Will I learn more about why it seemed to recognize me?"
"The scroll will be examined by the appropriate elders," Mei said, her tone suddenly more formal and distant. "If it contains relevant techniques, you may be granted access at some future point."
Lin Feng recognized the evasion for what it was—another layer of sect politics and secrecy. He filed the information away for future reference, suspecting there was more to the scroll's significance than Mei was acknowledging.
When they reached the compound, Mei handed him the herbs he had acquired. "These are yours to keep—a reward for successful completion of today's assignment. Use them wisely."
"Thank you," Lin Feng said, genuinely grateful. "Though I'm not entirely sure what to do with medicinal herbs."
"Speak with the infirmary elder," Mei suggested. "She can guide you on their proper use for enhancing your cultivation."
As Mei departed, Lao Wei appeared, seemingly materializing from nowhere as was his habit. "I see you survived your market training with Senior Disciple Mei."
"Barely," Lin Feng replied. "Though I'm beginning to suspect that 'barely surviving' is the sect's preferred pedagogical approach to everything."
Lao Wei chuckled. "Hardship breeds resilience. Comfort breeds complacency. Which would you prefer your training to cultivate?"
"Is 'comfortable resilience' not an option? Perhaps with slightly more sleep and marginally less physical suffering?"
"I'll take that under advisement," Lao Wei said dryly. "In the meantime, I'm told you identified a text of interest in the market."
Lin Feng's attention sharpened. "The scroll with the strange qi signature. Yes. It seemed to... recognize me somehow. Is that significant?"
Lao Wei's expression gave nothing away. "Perhaps. Such resonances can occur when a cultivation text is compatible with a practitioner's natural abilities. The elders will examine it thoroughly."
"And if it is compatible with me specifically?" Lin Feng pressed.
"Then your training might be adjusted accordingly," Lao Wei said carefully. "But don't fixate on this possibility. The Vagrant Cloud Path has many branches—what matters is finding the one best suited to your nature."
Lin Feng sensed there was much Lao Wei wasn't saying, but he had learned enough about sect politics to recognize when pushing for answers would be counterproductive.
"I'll try to contain my burning curiosity," he said instead. "Though I make no promises about my imagination running wild with visions of secret techniques and mystical destinies."
"Your imagination will receive plenty of exercise regardless," Lao Wei assured him. "For now, focus on tomorrow's training. Mei will begin teaching you basic external qi manipulation—an important milestone in your development."
As Lao Wei walked away, Lin Feng pondered the day's experiences. The market assignment had been illuminating in unexpected ways—not just in techniques of perception and acquisition, but in the complex moral philosophy that underpinned the Beggars' Sect approach to survival.
There was a certain pragmatic logic to their methods that appealed to Lin Feng's street-honed instincts. Creating circumstances rather than forcing outcomes, recognizing true value beneath misleading appearances, using accurate information as leverage in an unbalanced world—these principles resonated with his own developing worldview.
And then there was the mysterious scroll, with its strange recognition of his qi. Lin Feng had no illusions about being special or chosen—three years of street survival had thoroughly cured him of such romantic notions. But he couldn't deny the peculiar connection he had felt, or the suspiciously guarded reactions of both Mei and Lao Wei to his discovery.
Something significant was happening beneath the surface of his seemingly straightforward training. Lin Feng might not know exactly what it was yet, but he was increasingly certain that his recruitment into the Beggars' Sect had been far from random chance.
The question was whether he was being groomed as an asset or set up as a pawn—and in either case, for what purpose?
With these unsettling thoughts for company, Lin Feng made his way to the dining hall, where Crooked Yang and Little Rat would undoubtedly be waiting to hear about his market adventures. He would tell them about his herb acquisition and Mei's strange transformations, but the scroll and his growing suspicions about sect politics—those he would keep to himself for now.
In a sect full of secrets, developing a few of his own seemed only prudent.