Chapter 14 — Threads Beneath the Streets
Morning light spilled across Blackstone Town like a thin layer of gold dust, catching on tiled roofs, wooden signboards, and the drifting steam from breakfast stalls.
Hao Tian walked among the crowd with measured steps, neither hurried nor slow.
He did not look like someone special.
And in a place like this, that was a good thing.
The satchel at his side was lighter than it had been yesterday. The fire crystals were gone. In their place was silver—carefully hidden—and a handful of herbs, beast materials, and odds and ends he had gathered on his way back from the mountain.
The street was alive.
Not just noisy—but busy in a way that felt purposeful. People were not wandering. They were moving toward things. Toward deals. Toward meals. Toward opportunities.
Or away from trouble.
Hao Tian let himself blend in.
He passed stalls selling cloth, tools, dried meat, cheap talismans that probably didn't work, and pills that definitely didn't work. Somewhere nearby, a man was loudly advertising a "strengthening powder" that Hao Tian could smell from ten steps away was nothing more than ground tree bark mixed with spice.
He ignored it.
Instead, he slowed near a cluster of herb stalls.
Not the big shops.
The small ones.
The kind run by middle-aged men and women with sharp eyes and careful hands.
He stopped at one where bundles of dried plants were arranged neatly on a wooden mat. The stall owner, a woman in her forties, glanced at him once, then went back to sorting.
Hao Tian crouched and placed two small bundles on the edge of her stall.
"Bone-strengthening grass. Fire-nourishing shrooms. Low grade, but clean."
The woman finally looked at him properly.
She picked one up, sniffed it, pinched a leaf between her fingers, then nodded slightly.
"Where'd you get them?"
"The forest."
She didn't ask which part.
"That one's a bit bruised," she said, pointing at a mushroom.
"It still works."
"Mm."
She thought for a moment.
"Eight silver total."
Hao Tian shook his head.
"Twelve."
She looked at him again.
This time, a little more carefully.
"Ten."
He hesitated just long enough to make it feel real.
"Deal."
They exchanged goods and coins.
It was simple.
Almost too simple.
But as he stood and moved away, he noticed something.
Two stalls down, a man had been watching.
Not openly.
Not staring.
Just… paying attention.
Hao Tian didn't react.
He continued walking.
The next trade was harder.
A man selling leather gear showed interest in the wolf hide Hao Tian had kept, but immediately started listing flaws—thin in places, poorly cured, "not worth much."
Hao Tian listened.
Then calmly said, "Then don't buy it."
He turned to leave.
"Wait," the man said. "Name a price."
They settled somewhere in the middle.
Again, simple.
Again, clean.
But again—he felt eyes on him.
Not the same ones as before.
Different.
Scattered.
Like ripples spreading outward.
He spent the next hour moving through the market.
Selling small things.
Buying necessities.
A new waterskin.
Some dried food.
A cheap but sturdy pair of gloves.
A simple whetstone.
He didn't bargain hard.
He didn't accept the first price either.
Just… enough.
And slowly, something changed.
It was subtle.
A stall owner would look at him a second longer before answering.
A passerby would pause a moment after he left.
Once, he heard someone mutter, "That kid's not stupid," under their breath.
Then came the first real test.
It was a narrow stall selling maps and second-hand books.
Most of them were useless—old route sketches, incomplete beast guides, exaggerated travel stories.
But one of the scrolls on the table caught his eye.
Not because it looked special.
Because it looked ordinary.
Too ordinary.
A simple hand-drawn map of the outer forest and nearby hills.
The stall owner, a thin man with drooping eyelids, noticed his gaze immediately.
"That one's good," he said. "Fifty silver."
Hao Tian almost laughed.
Instead, he said, "It's a copy."
The man blinked.
"What?"
"The ink's too fresh in some places. And the paper's newer than the creases."
Silence.
Then the man smiled.
"Sharp eyes. Thirty, then."
Hao Tian picked it up, looked at it again, then put it down.
"It's still not worth that."
He turned to leave.
"Twenty!"
Hao Tian kept walking.
"Fifteen!"
He stopped.
Thought.
Then nodded.
As he paid, he felt it again.
That sensation.
Like something shifting.
Like a thread being pulled.
Not danger.
Not yet.
But… attention.
Later, as he walked through a busier street, someone bumped into him.
Hard.
"Watch it," the man snapped.
Hao Tian said nothing.
He checked his satchel.
Everything was still there.
But his silver pouch felt… lighter.
He turned.
The man was already disappearing into the crowd.
Hao Tian didn't chase him.
He just stood still.
Counted.
Three coins missing.
He sighed softly.
Then he walked—not toward the man—but toward a group of guards standing near a shop.
He said something quietly.
Pointed.
The guards exchanged looks and moved.
Five minutes later, there was shouting.
Then silence.
A guard returned and tossed three coins at his feet.
"Next time, tie your pouch better," he said.
Hao Tian nodded.
"Thank you."
As he walked away, he felt it again.
That strange, quiet pressure.
Like someone, somewhere, had just made a note of him.
By the time the sun had climbed higher, Hao Tian had learned something important:
The market was not about who was strong.
It was about who was seen.
And who was judged.
Hao Tian did not leave the market. Instead, he drifted deeper into its heart, letting the noise and movement swallow him whole.
He stopped, listened, observed, then moved again.
Somewhere in the crowd, unseen eyes quietly took note of him.
....
The sun had already begun to tilt westward when Hao Tian finally stopped walking.
Not because he was tired.
But because he had finished what he came to do.
The satchel at his side no longer held herbs, bones, or rough materials. They had been exchanged—bit by bit, stall by stall, without hurry and without spectacle—for something far more solid.
Silver.
He did not count it in the open.
Only when he found a quiet corner between two low buildings did he finally sit down and carefully sort through the coins.
When he was done, he paused.
An extra one hundred silver coins.
He exhaled slowly.
Added to what he already had… and what remained from the fire crystals…
It was finally enough.
For the first time, he did not feel like he was just surviving.
He stood up and headed back into the crowd.
The first place he went was a small, old bookshop tucked between a cloth store and a pawn stall.
The wooden sign was cracked. The windows were dusty.
Inside, the smell of old paper and dried ink hung in the air.
An elderly man sat behind the counter, his eyes half-closed.
Hao Tian did not browse randomly.
He went straight to the section marked:
Body-Refining Methods.
There were not many.
Most were thin, cheap-looking booklets.
Some were clearly incomplete.
After a long search, he finally found a thick, plain manual.
No fancy name.
No proud claims.
Just:
"Iron Tempering Manual."
He opened it.
The words were simple. The steps were clear. The method described how to temper skin, flesh, bones, and internal organs in proper order, using breathing, movement, and controlled strain.
As he read, Hao Tian felt his heart slowly tighten.
Compared to this, what his father had taught him…
…was barely a shadow of the real thing.
His father's method only talked about breathing and enduring.
This one described how to truly change the body.
"How much?" he asked.
The old man opened one eye. "One hundred and twenty silver."
Hao Tian did not bargain.
He paid.
Next, he went to a weapon shop.
Not a large one.
Not a famous one.
Just a quiet shop filled with the sound of metal and the smell of oil.
He explained his needs.
The shopkeeper did not laugh.
He brought out several ordinary swords.
Hao Tian tested them one by one.
Some were too light.
Some were poorly balanced.
Finally, he chose a simple, straight steel sword.
No patterns.
No inscriptions.
Just solid and reliable.
"Eighty silver," the shopkeeper said.
Hao Tian nodded and paid.
The last stop was a small pill shop.
Clean.
Quiet.
"Three Blood Condensing Pills," Hao Tian said.
The assistant looked surprised. "For body-refining?"
"Yes."
The man hesitated, then said, "Thirty silver each. Ninety total."
Hao Tian paid without hesitation.
When he finally left the inner market area, the sky had already begun to darken.
He walked until he found a quiet place and counted his remaining money.
After everything—
The manual.
The sword.
The pills.
He had exactly:
Eighteen silver coins left.
He stared at them for a moment.
Then closed his hand.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough.
Enough to truly begin.
He adjusted the sword at his waist, tightened his satchel, and started toward home.
Tonight…
He would step onto the real path of cultivation.