Qi Tian stepped out of the Yuelai Inn in unusually high spirits. What had begun as a mishap had ended with an unexpected windfall—an extra one hundred and sixteen low-grade spirit stones. It was hard not to feel pleased.
Rather than heading straight for Qinglu Mountain, he wandered unhurriedly along the market street.
Morning was the busiest time of day. Stalls lined both sides of the road, their vendors calling out one after another. Some sold low-grade talismans and crude spirit artifacts. Others displayed mountain herbs, medicinal plants, spirit grains, and assorted produce. Food stalls crowded the corners as well, offering sweet rice cakes, steamed buns, and steaming bowls of soup. White clouds of vapor billowed from great iron cauldrons, wrapping the lively street in comforting warmth.
Qi Tian stopped at one of the food stalls and ordered a basket of spirit rice cakes and a bowl of demon beast bone broth.
