Chapter 43: The Marketplace

  It was a bright day in Oakwood City. The sun blazed high in a cloudless sky, illuminating every street corner and rooftop in brilliant golden light. The city bustled with its usual vibrant energy—streets crowded with people of every social standing moving about their business, restaurants and taverns filled with the clatter of dishes and animated conversation, while merchants called out from their stalls with practiced voices honed through years of competition.

  "Fine silk here! Best quality in all of Oakwood City!"

  "Body Tempering Pills! High-level quality—you don't want to miss this opportunity!"

  "Purple Vitalis Root freshly harvested from Dragonspire Forest! Extremely effective for body refinement!"

  Similar voices echoed endlessly across the bustling streets, blending together into a uniquely lively atmosphere that hung thick in the warm afternoon air.

  At this moment, a solitary figure stepped through the towering city gates with measured, deliberate strides.

  His long black hair hung loose and disheveled down his back, and his once-fine azure robes were now thoroughly tattered and caked with layers of dust and dried blood. His lean, muscular frame bore the unmistakable grime of countless battles, making him appear at first glance like a common vagrant who had stumbled into the prosperous city. But it was his eyes—those striking golden eyes—that set him apart from any ordinary wanderer. They were not the uncertain eyes of someone lost or defeated. They were the sharp, focused gaze of a hunter returning victorious from the wild.

  After two intense weeks in the unforgiving depths of Dragonspire Forest, Su Tianhao had finally returned.

  But the youth who walked through these familiar gates was fundamentally different from the one who had left. That previous Su Tianhao had been knowledgeable—well-read and intellectually prepared with theories, expectations, and inherited memories of what cultivation should be. However, two brutal weeks of training had tested all of that against harsh reality: genuine hunger, constant mortal danger, and the primal instinct required simply to survive another day.

  "Oakwood City... I'm back," Su Tianhao murmured softly, golden gaze lingering on the familiar surroundings as memories surfaced. Two weeks of constant battles, near-death experiences, and steady improvement in both technique and cultivation.

  His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. "These two weeks brought tremendous transformation. Lu Ruyi's pills were invaluable as well."

  He took mental inventory of his remaining resources as he walked. "All the Body Tempering Pills are gone. Seventeen Essence Refinement Pills remaining. The Healing Pills and Qi Recovery Pills are untouched—still at full stock."

  His expression sharpened. "Now that I'm back, I need a proper sword. It's time to seriously pursue the sword dao."

  With that clear goal in mind, he began making his way toward the commercial district—completely ignoring the critical and disdainful glances being thrown his way by passersby who saw only the wretched, blood-stained appearance and assumed the worst.

  The marketplace was the beating heart of commerce in Oakwood City—a sprawling area where virtually anything available within the city could be bought, sold, or traded. Common household goods, rare cultivation resources, weapons, pills—everything could be found somewhere within its bustling confines. The massive space was divided into three distinct commercial hubs, each controlled by one of the city's three great clans. The marketplace Su Tianhao headed toward was naturally Su family territory—a place he knew intimately from his years as the family's celebrated young genius.

  Countless stalls and shops were arranged in surprisingly orderly fashion despite the obvious chaos, each merchant zealously advertising their goods to the constant stream of customers flowing past.

  As Su Tianhao entered the Su family marketplace, the judgmental gazes grew more obvious. Some people whispered openly, their voices carrying poorly concealed mockery. His torn robes, wild hair, and blood-stained skin ensured that none of them recognized the Su family's Second Young Master. To their eyes, he was just another dirty beggar who had wandered into a place far above his station.

  On a long wooden bench just outside a small but well-maintained stall, two young men sat in casual conversation, killing time between their own shopping. One wore expensive purple robes marking him as someone from a wealthy family, while his companion was dressed in plainer but still respectable clothing. The moment their eyes landed on Su Tianhao's approaching figure, both pairs narrowed with visible contempt.

  "Who's that filthy kid?" the purple-robed young man whispered to his companion—but not quietly enough.

  "Looks like a homeless beggar. What could someone like that possibly be doing here?" his companion murmured back, voice dripping with disdain.

  "Exactly. What could someone so wretched possibly afford?" the purple-robed youth added with a derisive snort, looking at Su Tianhao as if he were an insect that had crawled into their clean space.

  "Maybe he's just a slave sent by his master to fetch some common supplies," his companion mocked with cruel amusement.

  "Yeah, probably right," the purple-robed young man agreed readily, a mocking smile spreading across his face.

  Every word rang out perfectly clear to Su Tianhao's enhanced hearing. His golden eyes flashed with cold amusement.

  "Hmph. Busybodies," he said aloud, voice cutting through their whispered conversation. "How can trash like you possibly decide what I can or cannot afford?"

  Both young men's expressions darkened immediately, faces flushing with rage and embarrassment at being called out so publicly.

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  "You filthy rat! How dare y—"

  But before the words could fully land, Su Tianhao had already turned and walked smoothly into the crowded marketplace, ignoring their mounting fury as if they were beneath his notice entirely.

  "Damnit!" the purple-robed young man cursed through gritted teeth, fists clenching with impotent rage.

  "Let's follow him and watch how he disgraces himself," his companion said coldly, eyes fixed on Su Tianhao's departing figure.

  "Yes—let's see how he humiliates himself." The purple-robed man's expression eased slightly at the prospect. "He thinks the marketplace is somewhere any beggar can just buy things from. Let's watch reality crush that idea."

  The two exchanged cruel smiles and rose from the bench, following after Su Tianhao at a discreet distance.

  Meanwhile, Su Tianhao navigated the familiar marketplace pathways with practiced ease. During his years as the Su family's celebrated young genius, he had visited regularly—personally overseeing business operations and providing management guidance. The entire landscape was as familiar as his own courtyard.

  'I'll go straight to Master Huan's weapon shop first,' he decided. 'Acquire a quality sword before anything else.'

  Master Huan was the Su family's middle-aged high-grade Mortal rank weapon craftsman—a skilled artisan and an old acquaintance from Su Tianhao's golden days as the family's rising star.

  'And I should sell off the beast materials while I'm here,' he thought as another idea surfaced.

  During his two weeks in Dragonspire Forest, there had been numerous occasions where he had deliberately harvested valuable parts from defeated beasts rather than simply devouring their blood essence. His encounter with the Silver Pangolin had been one such calculated decision. These carefully preserved materials sat in the storage pouch Lu Ruyi had gifted him—a small fortune waiting to be converted into gold.

  As Su Tianhao made his way toward Master Huan's shop, two shadowy figures followed at a careful distance, concealing themselves within the crowd while keeping him in sight.

  Oblivious to the persistent stalkers, Su Tianhao strode forward with quiet confidence. His golden eyes gleamed with nostalgia as he approached a familiar, well-established shop lined with an impressive armory display. Swords, sabers, spears, and various exotic weapons gleamed faintly under the afternoon sunlight, each one arranged with a craftsman's meticulous pride.

  In front of the establishment stood a muscular middle-aged man with short brown hair and piercing blue eyes narrowed in intense focus beneath furrowed brows. He struck his massive hammer against fresh molten metal pulled from the roaring furnace behind him, each impact creating rhythmic metallic rings that echoed through the street. His upper body was bare and dripping with sweat, powerful muscles bulging with every controlled strike. Prominent veins surged along his arms—making it clear this was no ordinary craftsman, but a cultivator with a highly refined physique.

  "Master Huan," Su Tianhao called out softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Observing the intense focus on Master Huan's face, Su Tianhao was careful not to disturb the work. The weapon being forged was just beginning to take its final shape—a critical junction where a single mistake could ruin hours of careful work.

  Several meters away, two shadowy figures crouched behind a neighboring store, eyes fixed on Su Tianhao's every movement with malicious anticipation.

  The purple-robed young man and his companion. Still following. Still waiting for their show.

  "Isn't that Master Huan's forge?" the purple-robed young man murmured with growing amusement. "Don't tell me that wretched beggar actually thinks he can purchase something from such a prestigious establishment."

  "What an ignorant little brat," his companion mocked with a cruel smile.

  "Of all the stores in this entire marketplace, he chose Master Huan's specifically!" the purple-robed youth snorted. "Who in Oakwood City doesn't know that Master Huan is one of the finest weapon craftsmen in this city? It's even rumored that within a few years he'll be creating peak-grade Mortal rank weapons."

  "That beggar is planning to buy from someone like that?" His companion's eyes gleamed. "He's practically begging to humiliate himself."

  "Let's wait and enjoy the show," the purple-robed young man said, lips curling into a vindictive smirk.

  After several long minutes, Master Huan finally set down his hammer and raised the completed sword—and even experienced observers would have paused at the sight. The weapon's slender blade gleamed with a razor-sharp edge that seemed to cut the very light touching it, silver brilliance dancing across the shop floor. Three feet in length, perfectly balanced, it exuded an unmistakable aura of deadly precision and elegant lethality that made the skin prickle with awareness.

  "A high-grade Mortal rank sword!" the purple-robed young man couldn't help but exclaim quietly.

  "It really is," his companion agreed with awe coloring his voice.

  Even Su Tianhao felt a flicker of surprise. Even a craftsman who had attained high-grade Mortal rank status didn't guarantee that every weapon they forged would reach that same quality—most maintained only around thirty to fifty percent success rate. This was genuinely noteworthy.

  "Looks like Master Huan isn't far from a significant breakthrough in the weapon dao," Su Tianhao murmured with an appreciative smile. "A few more years of dedicated practice and he'll be crafting peak-grade Mortal rank weapons consistently."

  As someone carrying the inherited memories of two legendary immortal figures, Su Tianhao's professional judgment ran far deeper than his apparent age and cultivation level would suggest.

  Behind the neighboring stall, the two stalkers caught Su Tianhao's momentary pause and exchanged triumphant smiles—misreading his professional admiration as shocked inadequacy.

  "Looks like that beggar finally understands his place."

  But then—the scene shattered every expectation they had.

  Master Huan turned from his completed work—and the moment his piercing blue eyes landed on Su Tianhao, they widened with genuine surprise and unmistakable delight.

  "Young Master! I wasn't expecting to see you here!" he exclaimed, his professional composure immediately giving way to warm friendliness.

  "It's been a while, Master Huan. How has business been treating you?" Su Tianhao asked with an easy smile that spoke of long familiarity.

  "Hahaha! Good, very good indeed!" Master Huan beamed, clearly pleased by both the successful forging and the unexpected visit.

  Behind the neighboring stall, the purple-robed young man and his companion went pale.

  "Did Master Huan just address that beggar as 'Young Master'?" the purple-robed young man mumbled in disbelief, voice shaking slightly.

  "It seems that way," his companion responded, expression turning ugly.

  "How? He's just a filthy commoner. How could someone like that be someone Master Huan regards so highly?"

  Completely oblivious to the two stunned observers, Su Tianhao continued casually. "Looks like you've made tremendous progress in the weapon dao this past year."

  "As expected of the Young Master—nothing escapes your observation," Master Huan admitted with open pride. "I have made quite significant advancement."

  His pleased expression shifted slightly as he took in Su Tianhao's appearance more carefully. "Tell me, what brings you to my shop in such a state? Why are you wearing such tattered clothing?"

  "I just returned from an extended training period in Dragonspire Forest," Su Tianhao said with a wry smile, glancing down at his blood-stained robes. "I came here first to acquire a quality sword before returning to the estate."

  "I see." Master Huan nodded, though his sharp blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I have naturally heard about your one-month wager with Young Master Su Jian. In approximately two weeks, you'll be facing him in public combat. It's wise that you're making preparations."

  Su Tianhao nodded silently, neither confirming nor denying the obvious implications.

  Master Huan's gaze sharpened further. "Young Master, are you truly confident in victory? It's not too late to withdraw. Even if narrow-minded fools call you a coward, dignity can always be restored in time. I would personally petition the Patriarch on your behalf if necessary."

  "No, it's fine," Su Tianhao's lips curled upward. "I wouldn't have made the wager in the first place if I wasn't confident."

  He felt his heart grow distinctly warmer as he said it. Master Huan was willing to go to such lengths on his behalf—and Su Tianhao didn't doubt for a moment that the man had sufficient influence and respect to potentially change things. Though not a blood descendant of the Su family, Master Huan had been honored with the Su surname and was deeply valued for his exceptional craft. Knowing that someone so successful and respected was ready to risk political capital for his sake was not something Su Tianhao took lightly.

  "Are you absolutely certain?" Master Huan pressed, brow still creased with doubt.

  "Completely," Su Tianhao nodded with an unwavering gaze.

  Master Huan studied him for a long moment, then finally conceded with a resigned nod, choosing to trust the youth's judgment.

  Behind the neighboring stall, the two stalkers had been listening to every word—and understanding was slowly dawning on their faces.

  "So he's actually Su Tianhao," the purple-robed young man mumbled. Apart from the Su family's Second Young Master, he couldn't think of anyone else bold enough—or foolish enough—to challenge the undisputed number one genius of the Su family.

  "Su Tianhao—the trash Young Master everyone whispers about," his companion added with disdain. "I heard rumors two weeks ago that he made some outrageous public wager against Su Jian. Looks like those rumors were true."

  "I just don't understand it," he continued, genuine confusion written across his face. "He supposedly awakened zero cultivation talent at his testing ceremony. How could someone like that seriously be thinking about fighting Su Jian?"

  "SU! TIAN! HAO!"

  The purple-robed young man's voice rang out suddenly, dripping with venom. "A worthless cripple like you actually dared to call me trash and then walk away? If I don't teach you a proper lesson today, then I, Ye Jianping, am not qualified to walk the martial path!"

  His eyes gleamed with pure malice, a cruel smile twisting his features as he stepped out from behind the stall—done hiding, done waiting, and apparently done thinking.