Stones, Dust, and Hunger

The wind thinned as I reached the upper levels of the Iron Wind Pavilion. Stone paths wound like veins through the cliffs, leading toward an open plaza carved into the mountainside.

This was the market.

It didn't look like much at first—just a mess of cloth tents, folding tables, and shouting disciples. But the longer I stood there, the more I realized what it was:

This was the beating heart of the sect.

Disciples moved fast, tossing pouches of spirit stones from hand to hand like water. Others haggled over pills, weapons, talismans. I even spotted someone dragging a struggling beast in chains, trying to sell it for "fresh materials."

It wasn't just a place to buy things.

It was a battlefield. A silent one.

---

I wandered between stalls, watching.

> "Muscle Soothing Pills, one stone each!"

"Beginner-grade Mortal Qi Technique, only two stones! Three copies left!"

"Refined Ore Slivers—discounted for outer disciples!"

It hit me all at once.

This world ran on spirit stones.

I touched the inside of my sleeve. Empty. No pouch. No money.

I didn't have even a single low-grade stone to my name.

And it wasn't just about convenience. Spirit stones were everything here. They were currency, fuel, training resources—even status.

Without them, I couldn't buy healing pills. I couldn't rent a training room. I couldn't even purchase new robes if mine tore during practice.

I watched a girl no older than me purchase a small bottle of yellowish pills for five stones. Her robes were clean. Her aura faintly stirred the wind. A middle clan girl, probably—someone who had been preparing for this world her whole life.

I turned away, jaw clenched.

I didn't belong here. Not yet.

---

One stall sold weapons—rows of dull iron blades, a few copper short-spears, and even a chipped saber said to contain a "trace" of spiritual intent.

Price: eight spirit stones.

Another offered talismans—flimsy strips of paper with rushed brushwork. Protection charms. Flame bursts. Minor speed enhancements.

Useless to me.

Even if I wanted them, I couldn't afford to look interested. I'd just be wasting the vendor's time. And my own pride.

I kept walking.

---

At the end of the market, I stopped beneath a crooked sign that read Mission Board. A massive slab of jade had been nailed to the cliff wall, covered in slips of paper—sect tasks, bounties, and deliveries.

> Weed the outer cliffs – 1 spirit stone

Deliver alchemy ingredients to the upper furnace – 2 spirit stones

Clear beast nests in the lower gorges – 3 to 5 stones (group required)

There it was.

A way in.

I stood there for a long while, reading every task carefully.

No one looked at me. No one cared if I succeeded or failed. The market had already moved on, busy with louder disciples and heavier pouches.

But deep inside me, a fire smoldered.

They had money. I had purpose.

They had techniques. I had True Martial Body.

They had pills. I had pain. And pain could be forged into steel.

I left the market without buying anything, without touching a single scroll or coin.

But I left knowing exactly what I needed to do next.