Chapter Seventy-Four: Shadow Wings Blade Technique

The man’s pace was slow, and I caught up to him easily. Glancing ahead, I saw a bottomless abyss—there was nowhere left for him to run.

“Who sent you—” I hadn’t even finished my question before he leapt off the edge without hesitation, disappearing into the chasm below.

I was utterly dumbfounded. That seemed a little extreme. I hadn’t even done anything to him!

Taking a few quick steps forward, I stood at the cliff’s edge and peered down, but the man in the suit was nowhere to be seen. The drop was dizzyingly high—anyone falling would take dozens of seconds to reach the bottom—yet there wasn’t a single sound.

Puzzled, I happened to glance to the side and noticed that the Qilin Hall was right nearby. So he’d simply led me around in a circle, all the way back to where we’d started.

The cliff... the Qilin Hall...

That’s right—didn’t Second Uncle say that there was a formation gate behind here?

But how was I supposed to get down? Was I really supposed to just jump?

Looking carefully, I did notice a faint, thin membrane of spiritual energy below.

Since I’d come this far, I might as well see what was inside. Gritting my teeth, I leapt off the edge.

I’d always been afraid of heights, and this bungee-jump-like plunge had me terrified—before I knew it, I was screaming uncontrollably.

I’d already fallen halfway, but nothing had happened yet. Though frightened, I managed to keep my wits about me, enveloping myself in spiritual energy, bracing for the impact.

Just when I thought I was about to crash to my death, everything went dark. Space twisted around me.

The next moment, I found myself standing firmly on solid ground. For a second, I thought I’d landed at the bottom, but when I opened my eyes, I was in for a surprise.

Before me stretched an ancient city, its buildings all traditional towers imbued with a rich, timeless fragrance. Every road beneath my feet was paved with gray porcelain tiles, weathered by the passage of time but still exuding an air of profound heritage.

There was no sun in the sky, yet the heavens remained a clear blue. The source of the light was a mystery, but the whole scene was beautiful.

Although there were no street lamps, rows of lanterns hung outside every building, providing illumination at night.

As I wandered, taking in the scenery, I noticed the diversity of the people here. Some wore long robes and had flowing hair, cultivators deep in their practice; there were elderly Taoists in ceremonial garb; and others, like me, dressed in all manner of modern clothes.

Yet all of them shared one trait: the presence of spiritual energy.

Of course, I hadn’t forgotten my purpose here. While admiring the city, I also searched for somewhere to buy a blade technique.

Every shop here was proper, with no street vendors in sight. Some stores didn’t even have signboards, which left me, a newcomer, rather bewildered about where to go.

However, there was a certain order to the layout. After walking every street, I discerned a pattern: three main thoroughfares, each branching into three to five side paths.

That made things much simpler. Soon, in one of the grander shops, I spotted what I was looking for.

The sign read “Cultivation General Store.” There ought to be blade techniques sold here.

I strolled inside. At the entrance stood a middle-aged man. Looking closely, I could sense he was at least a third-grade practitioner—a respectable level. Yet he seemed to be just a security guard, for when I entered, he merely glanced at me.

The store had three floors. The first was stocked with every kind of weapon: sabers, spears, swords, staves, axes, hooks, forks—anything imaginable.

As I browsed, I realized someone was standing ahead of me. When I glanced up, I was startled, instinctively stepping back and drawing my weapon.

The guard, seeing me armed, hurried over, perhaps thinking I was causing trouble. But the stranger stopped him with a gesture, then turned to me and said, “Nice blade, young man.”

Sheepishly, I sheathed my weapon and offered a cupped-hand salute. “Sorry, force of habit.”

He waved it off. “No matter. Whatever you want, I have it here.” Then he added, “Oh, I’m the owner—Yu Yue. Just call me Mr. Yu.”

I nodded and asked, “Do you have any blade techniques?”

Yu Yue made a gesture, inviting me to follow him upstairs. As we walked, he said, “Of course. We have spiritual tools, weapons, manuals, elixirs, clothing—anything you need.”

That was convenient. If I ever needed something else, I could always come here.

He led me to a small counter on the third floor. All three floors were similarly furnished—mainly wooden furniture.

“Here you are—all our blade techniques,” he said.

A quick glance showed at least several dozen volumes, perhaps a hundred. But before going further, I asked about the price, to avoid any awkwardness later.

“Boss, how much are these?”

Feigning calm, I looked over the ancient books in the case. Yu Yue replied, “With your ability, the basics aren’t suitable. But since it’s your first time here, I’ll give you a fifty percent discount—let’s say, all these dozen or so for two hundred thousand.”

I was surprised. How did he know I was a first-time customer? And how could he gauge my level at a glance?

I voiced my questions, and the owner patiently explained, “I saw you pass by my store several times, as if searching for something. That’s how I knew it was your first visit. As for your cultivation, after enough years in business, you develop an eye for these things.”

In just a few words, he’d answered everything thoroughly and left no room for doubt.

Looking at his weathered yet still handsome face, I noticed his long hair was simply tied with a cord.

He placed the dozen or so blade technique manuals on the counter for me to peruse.

Their names were a curious assortment—Five Thunder Sabers, some without titles, and one absurdly dramatic: Emperor’s Blade.

None of those caught my eye—except one: Winged Shadow Blade Technique. It was shelved at the very back, but I spotted it instantly.

“This one,” I said, picking up the manual.

“Very good. Please come over here to pay,” Mr. Yu said.

I slipped the manual into my ring and followed him to a corner. Yu Yue pressed something, and a payment terminal rose smoothly from the floor—remarkably high-tech.

I inserted my card, hesitated for a moment, but paid the price.

Though I’d steeled myself to spend money, parting with two hundred thousand still stung a bit.

Afterwards, I asked, “Can you pawn things here?”

He’d already put the terminal away and answered, “Of course. What would you like to pawn?”