"Hah?!"
Agabah jolted upright in bed, gasping for air. A jolt of pain surged through his body like a thousand tiny blades piercing him from within. "Ack—!"
"Young master, please," the elder rushed to his side, gently pressing him back down onto the bed. His voice was filled with concern, his hands cautious but steady. "You mustn't move… your body is still healing."
Agabah's face twisted in pain, veins faintly throbbing at his temple. He turned his head slightly—there stood Wu Rong, hands calmly tucked behind his back, his posture respectful.
Wu Rong stepped forward with the grace of a court official, his expression composed and kind.
"Young Master Agabah," Wu Rong said, his tone smooth and warm, "please, do not strain yourself. Your condition has been stabilized, and the finest physicians of Jade Basin have seen to your recovery with the utmost care. I personally ensured it."
Agabah's lip trembled faintly, whether from pain or humiliation was unclear. But Wu Rong bowed deeply toward the bed.
"You fought valiantly," he said, voice imbued with honor. "Today may not have been a triumph, but it was a lesson few are brave enough to face."
The elder blinked at Wu Rong's reverence, but said nothing. Wu Rong then straightened, pausing for a moment.
"Your well-being is our concern," he added softly. "Please rest assured, all expenses have been covered. Should you need anything, Jade Basin remains at your service."
With another respectful bow, Wu Rong turned, robes whispering with refinement as he strode quietly out of the room, leaving behind the scent of herbs, a haze of pain, and the heavy air of wounded pride.
---
The moment Kazel stepped into the second level of the Jade Basin, an air of poised excitement spread like perfume through the hall.
Unlike the bustling lower levels, the second level was a place of quiet luxury—elevated displays, glass-encased weapons, polished artifacts set on velvet, and rare treasures showcased beneath soft lantern light. The floors shone like lacquered jade, and even the guards stationed here stood straighter, dressed in finer robes.
And today, every merchant was smiling.
Not the fawning smiles of desperate vendors—but the practiced, polished grins of high-end curators who had all heard the same thing.
The bet.
The duel.
And the outcome.
Kazel had not only defeated Agabah of the Second Moon—he had done so in front of the entire basin… and won the right to choose anything from this floor, with Agabah footing the bill.
To these elite merchants, he was now more than a guest—he was the moment.
A jeweler behind an obsidian case gave a graceful nod. A famed artifact appraiser subtly tilted a display crystal just enough for the reflection to catch Kazel's eyes. A high-grade weaponsmith leaned slightly forward, hands behind his back, as though to say: we've been expecting you.
There were no hawkers here. No shouting. No clamor.
Just rare goods.
And everyone's attention on the young man who had walked in with blue eyes, empty hands… and absolute power.
"I need a sword," Kazel said, then added with a grin, "or a dagger… or a spear. Bring me your best. I shall choose."
The smirk on his lips was subtle but electrifying—the look of a predator who knew the prey would come running.
And the merchants recognized it instantly.
Without a word of protest, they sprang into motion.
Elegant hands unlocked enchanted display cases with practiced ease. Runes glimmered faintly as protections were undone, and the weight of power began to fill the air. Weapons were carefully laid out beneath a long stretch of golden cloth that ran the length of the room—almost like an altar to war.
There were blades that sang when unsheathed, spears etched with storm runes, and daggers forged from fallen stars. Polearms with obsidian tips that pulsed with crimson light, lances still humming with lingering spirit energy, twin sabers that exhaled mist with every breath of aura. Each weapon exuded a different kind of intent—some noble, some savage, some begging to be held by someone worthy.
The second floor, normally serene and refined, now buzzed with silent awe.
Kazel moved forward with the unhurried confidence of a conqueror. He didn't just come to pick a weapon. He came to let the weapon choose him.
And all the merchants could do was watch.
And hope.
That he would choose from their collection.
As Kazel stood before the glowing array of weapons, his eyes scanned each one like a predator judging prey. Blades, spears, daggers—all radiating pride, history, and spirit energy.
That was when a figure descended from the higher level—calm, composed, and dressed in white.
Ondira.
Her face hidden behind her signature plain mask.
"There you are," she said, her voice cool and direct.
Kazel raised an eyebrow at her but didn't take his eyes off the weapons. "Hmm?"
"Hurry and choose your weapon. I need you to come with me," Ondira continued, stepping closer.
From the side, Jin Shui, Mei Rong, and Xie Lian watched, curious. The tension wasn't hostile—it was just Kazel being Kazel.
"Hush," Kazel whispered, pressing a finger gently against his lips with a mocking hush. His hand then moved slowly, deliberately, sweeping across the line of weapons until it stopped—firmly—on a halberd.
It was the plainest of the entire collection. A long shaft of polished black metal, simple in design, save for a single green gem embedded just below the blade.
"You have keen eyes, young master," the merchant said with a respectful smile. "This piece was recovered from the ruins of a forgotten sect. Their legacy is shrouded in time, but this halberd was all that remained."
( Nice story, if you were talking to a kid. ) Kazel thought dryly.
Without another word, he lifted the halberd effortlessly and stored it into his spatial ring. The old, worn-out spear he'd used before had been discarded earlier—he no longer needed it.
"Also, this is a magical weapon," the merchant added eagerly. "Each swing summons a gust of wind."
"I can do that without magic," Kazel replied flatly.
"About the payment—"
"I will take care of it, young master," the merchant interrupted with a deep bow. "Thank you for the purchase. May it be your most loyal companion."
Kazel finally turned to Ondira, his tone curious. "So, where are we going?"
Ondira crossed her arms. "You're going to be my potter."
Kazel frowned. "What's a potter?"
"You're going to carry my things," she said with a hidden smirk beneath the mask.
Kazel blinked. "…You mean a porter."
"No. Potter." She tilted her head. "Because if you drop something, I'll shatter you like one."
Mei Rong gave a low whistle. "And they call me toxic."
Kazel tilted his head slightly. "What did you lay your eyes on this time?"
"Follow me," said Ondira, already turning away.
"Tch! This woman…" Kazel clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed, but his feet moved regardless.
The two exited Jade Basin. Outside, a sleek, armored caravan was waiting. Ondira stepped aboard without looking back.
Kazel halted. "Where are we going?"
"Oi. Get in," Ondira called from inside, casually lounging.
"Damn this woman," Kazel muttered under his breath as he stepped in and took the seat across from her.
"Let's go," Ondira instructed the driver. With a lurch, the caravan began moving.
There was a moment of silence, the low rumble of the wheels filling the space.
Kazel broke it. "What's your cultivation level?"
Ondira tilted her masked face toward him. "Disclosing that information would only demotivate you."
"Oh really, now?" Kazel crossed his arms, a brow raised.
"Let's just say…" Her voice turned smooth, almost playful. "If I wanted, I could end Jade Basin before my next meal."
Kazel's eyes narrowed. "Is that a flex or a threat?"
Ondira didn't answer. Instead, she leaned back and stared out the small window. "But that's not what's important. Right now, I need to hunt spirit beasts. For money."
She turned to him. "After seeing you fight today… I figured you could tag along."
Kazel smirked, a wild glint in his eye. "You're hoping I won't die."
"I'm hoping you kill more than you embarrass," she said, voice cool.
His smirk widened. "Then you better not slow me down."