Chapter - 18 Artifacts Exhibition
Chapter - 18 Artifacts Exhibition
Vashistpathi.
The provincial capital.
The moment I stepped off the caravan and into its stone-paved streets, the sheer scale of the place hit me like a spiritual hammer to the face. Towering walls wrapped around the city like coiled serpents, banners fluttered from high buildings, and the scent in the air was a mix of roasted spices, fresh parchment, iron, and a hundred different types of incense.
And people--so many people.
Merchants yelling offers, street performers juggling flaming talismans, rogue cultivators looking for contracts, kids running between legs--it was chaos wrapped in civilization.
I tightened my satchel, adjusted my sword, and started walking.
Unbeknownst to me, someone watched from the shadows.
A figure sitting inside a caravan. Eyes sharp. Presence masked. Watching me. Only me. Silent.
But I didn't feel it yet.
I was too busy being overstimulated.
Focus, Aman. You're here for raw materials.
I weaved through alleys and walked past endless shops--alchemy bazaars, talisman stalls, cultivation book peddlers yelling "Ancient Forbidden Manual--only 9 silver!" (Sure, buddy)--until I found a cheap inn tucked between a tea house and a bathhouse.
---
After walking for what felt like hours through the crowded arteries of Vashistpathi, I finally found what looked like a place that wouldn't charge me in spirit stones or my soul for a night's rest.
The Blue Flame Inn.
It looked... modest. A little cracked around the corners. Paint peeling near the windows, and the signboard was hanging by one nail, swaying slightly. But hey--at least it didn't scream "you'll get robbed here."
Pushing the wooden door open, I stepped into a cozy, dim-lit lobby. A faint scent of roasted herbs filled the air--probably from the tavern kitchen. The floor creaked beneath my boots as I approached the counter.
Behind it sat a thin man in his forties with a half-rolled scroll in one hand and a brush in the other. He looked up with tired eyes that immediately scanned me from head to toe.
"Welcome to Blue Flame," he said with a yawn. "Room, bath, or both?"
"Just a room," I replied, adjusting the strap on my shoulder. "One week. Maybe two. Depends how the city treats me."
He gave a short nod, dipping his brush into ink. "Name?"
"Aman."
He paused, looking at me again. "The Aman? Like... that Aman?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Unless there's another devilishly handsome cultivator named Aman wandering around."
He chuckled, tapping the brush against the side of the inkpot. "You've got the confidence of a rogue cultivator, I'll give you that. But this city's full of names. You could be someone. You could be no one. Doesn't matter as long as you pay."
"How much?"
"Six silver for the basic room. Nine silver with bath access and meals. Comes with a lockable chest, candlelight, and a window that opens sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"We've got a very territorial pigeon. You'll understand."
I sighed and placed a single spirit shard and a copper coin on the counter. "This should cover the full deal."
He raised an eyebrow. "A spirit shard? Generous. You must have had a good week."
"Or a chaotic one," I muttered, thinking back to singing mid-fight in a bandit ambush.
The man pocketed the coin and slid me a rusty key. "Second floor, third room on the left. Don't mind the creaking. That's just the building saying hello."
I grabbed the key and turned to leave, but he added one last thing.
"Oh--and don't try to talk to the cat in the back alley."
I blinked. "Why not?"
"It talks back."
—
Perfect.
I threw my stuff on the creaky bed, washed my face with cold water, and walked out to finally find the metal wholesaler.
But midway through the trip…
"Ladies and gentlemen! The Mayor's Artifact Exhibition is now OPEN! Free entry today only! Step right in and witness the relics of ancient cultivator kings!"
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Artifact Exhibition?
I could feel my inner nerd and wannabe archaeologist awaken. My goal had been raw ores and smeltable metals--but this?
This was temptation.
I turned towards the massive crowd forming near a marble-arched plaza. Huge banners read:
"The Legacy of Legends: A Journey Through Time – Curated by Mayor Ranjiv."
They really went all out, huh?
I hesitated for exactly two seconds… and then followed the crowd into the exhibition, heart thumping with excitement.
—
The grand hall of the exhibition buzzed with murmurs and footfalls. Large banners hung from the ceiling, embroidered with the sigil of the Vashistpathi mayor's office, while magical lamps floated in the air, casting a warm, golden glow across the artifacts on display.
Aman stepped inside, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
The excitement of the unknown.
He had always been drawn to mysteries--technology, cultivation, even absurd ideas that others laughed off. But as he wandered past the first few exhibits, his expression gradually darkened.
A mana-powered heater.
A rotating-blade sword sharpener.
A self-cooling water jug.
His shoulders slumped.
"Damn... all that hype only for a bunch of highschool science projects," he muttered under his breath, loud enough to not be entirely private, but quiet enough to seem like stray thought.
But someone heard him.
A sharp "Hmph!" cut through the air like a blade.
He felt it instantly.
Contempt.
He didn't turn immediately. But with his sound-sensitive meridians humming faintly and tuned to precision--his past life as an esports athlete made him subconsciously hone in on any auditory anomaly--he tracked the source in seconds.
A turn of the head. A narrowing of the eyes.
Target acquired.
A girl stood across the aisle, next to another. She wasn't particularly flashy--around 5'10, dressed simply in muted grey robes with smudges of ink near her sleeves. But the way her eyes glared at him? That made her stand out more than any golden robe or flying treasure ever could.
She froze as Aman's gaze locked onto hers. His stare wasn't hostile--just unnervingly sharp, like he was reading a book that suddenly started talking back.
Her heart skipped. The panic was immediate.
"Shit, he heard me? He knows it was me?"
Her mind ran a hundred escape routes. Left? No, too many people. Right? That leads to the cultivator exhibits--he'll follow. Maybe cast a smoke pellet? No, wait, I didn't bring--
But Aman didn't move a muscle. He just... watched.
And frowned.
His senses sharpened, focusing on her presence. Yet he couldn't feel anything.
No Qi.
Nothing in her dantian. No flow in her meridians. No elemental affinity. Zero.
A cultivator with his level of perception not sensing anything from a person in a city this dense with Qi was not just strange--it was unheard of.
"...Interesting," he thought.
Why would a non-cultivator attend an artifact exhibition? She didn't look rich, noble, or even remotely influential. Just a girl standing in a sea of cultivators, tinkerers, and merchants, with a flickering intensity in her eyes.
Maybe she was like him. Drawn to artifacts. Searching for answers in scraps of metal and mana circuits.
But Aman didn't approach.
Instead, he gave one last glance--half curiosity, half warning--then turned away to examine the next exhibitor's stall.
He had questions, yes.
But this wasn't the time to chase shadows.
Not yet.
—
The moment Aman turned away, the girl let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Relief washed over her like cold water.
He wasn't coming after her. No questions. No confrontation. Just a single word whispered under his breath—"Interesting."
That was enough to send chills down her spine.
She tugged on her friend's sleeve with urgency.
"Quick, we need to get out of here."
"But what about—?"
"Now."
Her voice left no room for argument.
Weaving through the crowd with silent steps, the two slipped past the distracted attendees and out into the sunlit street, the noise of the exhibition fading behind them.
"Damn that guy," she muttered under her breath, frustration bubbling up. "I couldn't even see the rest of the artifacts properly."
She glanced back once, just to be sure no one was following. The street was packed, and Aman was nowhere in sight.
Good.
Pulling her hood a little lower over her face, she turned down a narrow alley and disappeared into the veins of the city.
But her thoughts were still lingering in the exhibition hall.
Who was that guy?
Why did he look at her like he saw straight through her?
She didn't like this. Not one bit.
She needed to lay low. At least until the strange cultivator with sharp eyes and sharper instincts left the city.
---
End of Chapter 18