Lin Fan approached the stall set slightly apart from the main bustle. Unlike the noisy, eager vendors nearby, the old man sitting behind this one was quiet, his eyes half-closed as if meditating, seemingly oblivious to the market's chaos or the lingering commotion Lin Fan had caused moments ago. His face was a roadmap of wrinkles, his cultivation level imperceptible – he could have been a mortal, or someone far beyond Lin Fan's ability to gauge.
On the rough-spun cloth laid before him were just three items, each looking ancient and out of place amidst the market's usual fare.
One was a dagger, its blade dark and pitted with rust, yet emanating a faint, unnatural chill that lowered the temperature slightly around it. It looked broken, perhaps once part of a larger weapon.
Next to it lay an amulet crudely carved from some yellowish bone. The carvings depicted strange, intertwined symbols that Lin Fan didn't recognize. It gave off no discernible energy fluctuation, feeling like simple bone.
Finally, there was the locked wooden box. It was small, about the size of Lin Fan's two fists placed together, made of dark, aged wood bound with tarnished metal strips. A complex-looking lock, also rusted, secured it firmly. The box felt heavy, ancient, and pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible energy that intrigued Lin Fan more than the other two items combined.
Lin Fan paused before the stall, his presence finally causing the old man to slowly open his eyes. They were cloudy, yet held a spark of shrewd awareness that belied his lethargic posture. He looked Lin Fan over, his gaze lingering for a moment on the Flowing Shadow Sword before settling on Lin Fan's face. He offered no greeting.
"Interesting items," Lin Fan commented, breaking the silence. He pointed towards the dagger. "This dagger feels... cold."
The old man grunted softly. "Found it in the Frostwind Ravine. Costs fifty Low-Grade Spirit Stones." His voice was raspy, disinterested. Fifty stones for a rusty, broken dagger was exorbitant by Outer Sect standards.
Lin Fan then pointed to the amulet. "And this? Looks like simple bone carving."
"Maybe," the old man replied noncommittally. "Picked it up near the Whispering Burial Mounds. Twenty Low-Grade Spirit Stones." Another inflated price for something with no obvious value.
Finally, Lin Fan's gaze settled on the locked box. "This box... it seems quite old. What's inside?"
The old man shrugged, a barely perceptible movement. "Don't know. Never could open it. Found it washed ashore by the Blackwater River decades ago. If you want the gamble, one hundred Low-Grade Spirit Stones."
One hundred stones for an unknown, locked box. This old man was either crazy or knew how to prey on the curiosity of cultivators. In the entire market, these three items were likely the most overpriced relative to their apparent state.
A small crowd had gathered around, drawn by Lin Fan's earlier spectacle and curious about his next move. They listened to the old man's prices with wide eyes. 170 Low-Grade Spirit Stones in total? For this junk? Many scoffed inwardly, assuming Lin Fan would surely see the scam. Even Zhao Feng, who had been lurking nearby with his lackeys, nursing his bruised cheek and ego, watched with a sneer, anticipating Lin Fan's refusal.
Lin Fan tapped his finger on the counter, feigning contemplation for a dramatic beat. "Hmm, quite expensive for such... curiosities." He looked at the old man. "How about... I take all three."
The crowd murmured. Even buying one was foolish, but all three?
The old man's cloudy eyes sharpened slightly. "170 Low-Grade Spirit Stones then."
Lin Fan chuckled, a sound that drew every eye. "You misunderstand." He waved his hand dismissively. "Your prices are irrelevant."
With another flick of his wrist, a single stone materialized and landed softly on the counter beside the old man.
It wasn't low-grade. It wasn't mid-grade.
It was a High-Grade Spirit Stone.
Brilliant, pure, radiating an energy that silenced the entire section of the market. Its glow made the nearby Mid-Grade stones Lin Fan had used earlier seem dull. One High-Grade Spirit Stone was worth ten thousand Low-Grade Spirit Stones.
Using it to pay a total price of 170 Low-Grade stones was beyond squandering; it was insanity. It was like using a mountain of gold to buy a single grain of rice.
The old vendor's eyes, previously half-closed and disinterested, snapped wide open. He stared at the High-Grade Spirit Stone, then at Lin Fan, a flicker of disbelief crossing his ancient features. The crowd gasped collectively, stumbling back as if struck. Whispers turned into frantic, hushed exclamations.
"High... High-Grade Spirit Stone?!" "My heavens! Did I see that right?" "To buy that junk?!" "He... he must be..." "Is he an Elder's descendant playing games in the Outer Sect?"
Zhao Feng's sneer froze on his face, replaced by pure, unadulterated shock and a burning, gut-wrenching envy that made his teeth ache. He himself had never even held a High-Grade Spirit Stone!
DING!
[Detected extreme squandering action!]
[Triggered emotions: Absolute Shock (Old Vendor + Crowd, +500 Points), Blinding Envy (+600 Points), Intense Curiosity (Regarding Lin Fan's identity/wealth, +400 Points), Utter Confusion (+250 Points), Speculation (+200 Points)]
[Note: Lower Greed points as items purchased are not universally desired consumables.]
[Total System Points earned: 1950]
[Current System Points: 2425 + 1950 = 4375]
Almost two thousand points! Lin Fan exulted inwardly. Using the High-Grade stone was definitely the right move. The shock value was off the charts.
"Consider it a payment for your time," Lin Fan said nonchalantly to the stunned old man. He reached down, picking up the dagger, the amulet, and finally, the locked wooden box. The dagger felt unnaturally cold, the amulet smooth and inert, the box surprisingly heavy and solid. He tucked the amulet and dagger away, holding the box for a moment, examining the intricate lock. It seemed immune to simple force or Qi manipulation at his current level. Interesting.
He turned to leave, ignoring the stunned silence and the burning stares. His casual disregard for such immense wealth was perhaps even more shocking than the payment itself.
"Young Master!" A voice, sharp and authoritative, cut through the stunned quiet.
Lin Fan paused, glancing over his shoulder. A middle-aged man in the robes of an Outer Sect Deacon was pushing his way through the crowd, his face stern, flanked by two Outer Sect Patrol disciples Lin Fan had noticed earlier. This Deacon, known as Deacon Meng, oversaw market activities and maintained order.
Deacon Meng fixed his eyes on Lin Fan, his gaze sharp. "Such extravagance is unusual in the Outer Sect Market, young man. May I know your name and perhaps inquire about the source of such... considerable wealth?"
The crowd held its breath. A Deacon was intervening! Was this mysterious disciple finally going to face scrutiny?
Lin Fan met the Deacon's gaze calmly. He had expected some level of attention from the sect authorities eventually. "My name is Lin Fan," he stated plainly. As for the source? He smiled faintly. "Let's just say I recently came into a fortunate inheritance. Is there a sect rule against spending one's own resources, Deacon Meng?"
His tone was polite but held no deference. His casual use of a High-Grade Spirit Stone moments earlier lent his words an unexpected weight. An inheritance? What kind of inheritance granted such terrifying wealth to an Outer Disciple?
Deacon Meng frowned, clearly not satisfied but also hesitant. There was indeed no rule against being wealthy, though flaunting it so excessively could be seen as disruptive. And if this Lin Fan truly had a powerful backer or a mysterious origin... acting rashly could be unwise.
"No," Deacon Meng conceded slowly. "There is no rule against spending. But blatant disruption of market order," he gestured towards the still-buzzing crowd and the earlier chaos at the pill stall, "is frowned upon. Conduct yourself with a measure of restraint, Disciple Lin Fan."
It was a warning, but a relatively mild one.
Lin Fan gave a slight nod. "Understood, Deacon. I was just completing my purchases." He held up the locked wooden box slightly. "Found a curious little trinket."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the Deacon frowning, the crowd whispering furiously, Zhao Feng trembling with impotent rage, and the old vendor staring at the High-Grade Spirit Stone as if it might vanish at any moment.
Lin Fan navigated his way out of the market plaza, the system interface displaying his healthy balance of 4375 points. He had made his splash, acquired some intriguing items, and earned a significant amount of points. It was time to retreat, investigate the box, and plan his next move. Perhaps another round at the lottery? Or maybe it was time to truly test his limits and aim for the fifth layer of Qi Refinement.
The locked box felt heavy in his hands, humming with secrets.