Spells Grinding: From Basic Sparks to Divine Arts

Chapter 267: Fierce Customs

Early the next morning, after a final round of warm farewells with Zou Chang, Qin Lu steered his spirit boat away from the Raging Waves Sect’s territory.

With the Sect Opening Ceremony concluded, their visit had officially come to an end.

However, they did not turn south toward the White Jade Market. Instead, the spirit boat banked, picking up speed as it shot toward the northern horizon.

They had a critical objective to complete before returning home.

They needed to secure two Foundation Establishment Pills.

Back in the sect, both Nie Feng and Cao Yunxi had reached Qi Condensation Perfection. They stood at the precipice of the next great realm, just one step away from Foundation Establishment. To ensure they crossed that threshold safely, the pills were non-negotiable.

While failure at Foundation Establishment wasn’t strictly a death sentence, it was a catastrophe for a cultivator’s future. The backlash would ravage the body’s meridians and regress one’s cultivation base. Worse still, the body would develop a resistance, making the success rate of a second attempt significantly lower than the first.

Generally, if a cultivator failed once, the price to succeed the second time—both in resources and effort—doubled.

Therefore, most prudent cultivators prepared an arsenal of aids to guarantee success on their first try. As the master of the Qin Sect, Qin Lu had to plan for his subordinates’ long-term value.

Their destination was the Ten Thousand Treasures Market.

Although technically classified as a “market,” its scale rivaled major cultivation cities, dwarfing the likes of the White Jade Market.

It was situated at a geopolitical pressure point—the precise junction where the borders of four different Golden Core powers met.

Originally, this area had been a desolate no-man’s-land, a lawless vacuum where criminals and exiles fled to escape the jurisdiction of the sects. But where there are people, there is trade. As the population of desperate and dangerous cultivators swelled, the area became paradoxically prosperous.

Eventually, even disciples from the four great Golden Core factions began frequenting the area for black market deals. The influx of high-level resources transformed the slum into a trade hub.

Today, the market’s auction house was legendary for the frequency with which rare treasures appeared. Hence the name: Ten Thousand Treasures.

Qin Lu’s plan was simple: enter the auction, win two Foundation Establishment Pills, and leave.

The spirit boat cut through the clouds, cruising at high altitude.

Inside the cabin, the members of the Qin Sect sat scattered about, each immersed in meditation. Qin Lu sat at the helm, manually controlling the artifact’s flight path.

He glanced back at Feng Xi and the other two younger disciples, who were sitting cross-legged with eyes closed. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips.

Last night, when he had gone to console them about the tournament results, telling them not to weigh victory and defeat so heavily, he had finally learned the truth of their desperation.

They hadn’t fought like madmen for the rewards. They had fought because they didn’t want him—their Master—to lose face in front of the other Foundation Establishment seniors.

The revelation had struck a chord in Qin Lu. He hadn’t expected such a fierce sense of honor from them. It was as if, overnight, they had grown up, learning to prioritize the sect’s reputation over their own safety.

As he watched them, Qin Lu’s smile slowly faded, replaced by a contemplative look.

A question that had been simmering in his subconscious finally bubbled to the surface.

Is it time to move out of the market?

Should I follow Zou Chang’s example? Find a spiritual vein in the wilderness, open a mountain, and truly establish a sect…

The idea of “Opening a Mountain” had been circling Qin Lu’s mind for some time, lingering like a ghost he couldn’t exorcise. Seeing the grandeur of Zou Chang’s ceremony had only added fuel to the fire.

Currently, the dozen or so members of the Qin Sect lived in the White Jade Market. While life there was convenient, comfortable, and safe, it was fundamentally detrimental to a cultivator’s path.

Markets were noisy, cluttered with mortal desires, and packed with distractions. For a cultivator seeking the arduous path to immortality, comfort was a poison. Living in a market long-term softened the will.

True cultivation required isolation. It required deep mountains and ancient forests, places where one could sever worldly desires and focus entirely on the flow of Spiritual Qi.

Setting aside the monthly rent for the compound and the spirit stones wasted on luxuries… the sheer volume of miscellaneous distractions in a city disrupts their focus, Qin Lu mused.

The path of cultivation aims for longevity and immortality. These mundane interruptions are shackles.

Some of these kids have genuine talent. Keeping them cooped up in a market is a waste. It’s practically negligent.

It seems… the time is coming.

Qin Lu made a silent decision. He would put the search for a proper spiritual land on his agenda. He would do as Zou Chang had done.

He would build a real sect.

Ten Thousand Treasures Market.

After more than ten days of continuous flight, the Qin Sect finally arrived.

The market sprawled out below them, a massive urban beast that shared about fifty percent of its architectural DNA with Shuntian City, the capital of Flowing Cloud Prefecture. Yet, there was a roughness to it, a lack of polish that made it feel wilder.

Even so, the sheer scale was enough to make Cao Mo and the younger disciples gasp. They pressed against the windows, chattering excitedly at the sight of the majestic walls.

Qin Lu landed the spirit boat on the outskirts, and the group filed out.

He scanned the surroundings, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the vibe of the crowd.

“Let’s go. Stay close.”

The flow of traffic into the market was dense, a sea of heads moving toward the gates. But unlike Shuntian City, there was no order here.

Cultivators didn’t queue. They shoved.

Burly men in scarred armor barreled through the crowd, shouldering smaller cultivators aside with sneers of contempt. The concept of “right of way” belonged to whoever had the strongest aura.

Conflicts erupted constantly. In just the short walk from the landing zone to the gate, Qin Lu witnessed two heated arguments. The language was foul, involving creative insults toward ancestors and parents, and one dispute escalated immediately into a brawl, with steel drawn and spiritual energy flaring right in the street.

It was an eye-opener for Qin Lu. He hadn’t expected the local customs to be quite this fierce.

“Keep your heads down,” Qin Lu whispered, leaning in toward his disciples. “The people here are rough. Don’t make eye contact.”

“Mhmm! Mhmm!” Cao Mo and the others nodded furiously.

Their previous excitement had evaporated, replaced by nervous tension. The palpable aggression in the air had intimidated them thoroughly.

Well, almost all of them.

One person’s expression was vastly different.

Gu Can.

The boy had looked bored and listless during the flight, but the moment his boots hit the dust of the Ten Thousand Treasures Market, he lit up like a lantern.

“Hehe! Look at this place!” Gu Can grinned, his eyes darting from one street fight to another. “It’s so lively! Everyone looks so… interesting!”

Qin Lu felt a headache coming on. Black lines practically dropped down his forehead.

“Interesting? It’s a cesspool,” Qin Lu hissed. “This place is a mix of dragons and snakes. Don’t you dare cause trouble for me.”

Gu Can turned back, his grin widening into something mischievous. “Relax, Brother Qin! Don’t you trust me? I’m the most well-behaved person you know!”

Qin Lu gave him a look of profound disbelief.

You? Well-behaved?

I’d believe a ghost before I believe that.

You’re the definition of a loose cannon.

Qin Lu didn’t bother arguing. He simply grabbed Gu Can’s shoulder and steered him toward the entrance.

There were no detection artifacts at the gate, nor were there guards checking identities. The Ten Thousand Treasures Market was a true open city—anyone could enter, and anyone could leave. No questions asked.

Inside, the layout was similar to other markets, but the atmosphere was volatile. The roar of commerce was punctuated by shouting matches, and the cultivators walking the streets carried themselves with explosive tempers.

Sticking to his plan of keeping a low profile, Qin Lu quickly located a sturdy-looking inn and booked five high-grade rooms, ushering his flock inside before any “interesting” trouble could find them.