Bui To Nhu stood before the stone table, her gaze as sharp as a knife sweeping over the three disciples. "Khanh," her voice cut through the air, "your task for today."
She produced a long scroll of parchment densely covered with characters: pork shoulder, free-range chicken, Muscovy duck, leafy greens, plain rice... along with a small cloth bag that clinked. "Go to the market. The Society needs supplies."
Before Khanh's look of surprise could settle, she continued, her voice lowering with the weight of experience: "Do not underestimate the importance of eating. Food is not just to fill one's stomach. At a certain level of attainment, it is fuel, the material foundation upon which LINH power condenses and operates within the body. Proper nourishment is part of cultivation. This, when you reach a higher level, you will understand for yourself how crucial it is."
Her words were not ordinary instruction, but a warning, a glimpse into profound laws that Khanh had not yet touched. Eating is also cultivation? The thought flashed by, leaving in his heart a vague impression of a world of harsh discipline ahead.
"Yes, Master. This disciple obeys." Khanh bowed his head, accepting the list and the money bag, his mind filled with curiosity and a new sense of gravity.
The space of Tier 1 crashed into Khanh's senses like a giant organism breathing rapidly. Natural light flooded down from above, but along the market streets, flaming torches still burned fiercely even in broad daylight—the fire dancing within crystal lanterns and wrought-iron holders, both to illuminate the shadowy corners and as a declaration of endless prosperity.
This was a two-tiered world bustling to the point of overwhelm:
On land, rows of stalls pressed closely together, made of red-lacquered, gold-trimmed wood or tightly woven bamboo. Silks and satins fluttered, porcelain was stacked in towers, fresh meat and fish gleamed on slabs of cold stone emitting mist. The enthusiastic cries of vendors, spirited haggling, and the constant clinking of coins formed an unceasing symphony.
On water, wide man-made canals flowed through the market, their water crystal clear thanks to a circulating LINH THUY system. Dozens of bamboo rafts and wooden boats drifted lightly past, laden with goods. Sellers sat right on their vessels; buyers stood on small wooden bridges spanning the water or on the banks, leaning down to inspect goods, haggle, then using long ladles or hooked poles to haul their purchases up. The sound of paddles dipping into the water (lop-bop) and calls from boat to boat created a softer, yet equally vibrant, layer of sound beneath the clamor on shore.
Khanh stood amidst the surging crowd, feeling small and lost. He watched carefully as a woman bought vegetables. After haggling, she placed her hand on a small stone slate attached to the stall. A faint blue light (THUY) flashed from her palm, seeping into the stone. Veins on the slate glowed, displaying the text: "4K - Confirmed - Element: THUY - Tier: Low" before fading.
It's not just paying. You have to "imprint" it with your own LINH power. A cold dread washed down his spine. This LINH imprint... if I use THO, characteristic of the Tran clan... could the system trace it?
He recalled his arduous training days with La Diep, trying to warp his heavy THO LINH into something else. KIM. The KIM element is more common, harder to trace. He steeled himself, suppressing the familiar energy rising from the earth.
His turn came at the meat stall. "Two pounds of shoulder meat for me."
"Twelve Koan."
Khanh nodded, offering no haggling—the behavior of a country bumpkin, new, clueless, and easy to exploit. He handed over the money, then hesitated a moment before placing his hand on the stone slate. Taking a deep breath, he focused his will, forcing out a feeble, fabricated stream of KIM LINH. A pale, flickering, unstable white light flashed and died. The slate recorded: "12K - Confirmed - Element: KIM - Tier: Very Low/Unstable."
The butcher glanced at the text, his eyes showing a flicker of suspicion at Khanh's clumsiness. Khanh lowered his gaze, accepted the package of meat, and hurried away.
Thus, he repeated the procedure at each stall: chicken, duck, vegetables. Each time he transmitted the fake KIM LINH was a moment of tension, fearing the light would betray him, fearing the system would detect the abnormality.
Finally, he reached the last grain stall—a wide shop with dozens of sacks and wooden barrels piled high. Khanh presented his list: "Five pounds of ordinary plain rice, please."
The shopkeeper, an old man with a goatee and shrewd eyes, nodded and began scooping rice from a sack labeled "First Grade - Standard." But upon seeing Khanh—a youth who appeared to be a new cultivator—he suddenly paused, his eyes lighting up with something like opportunity.
"Young brother, for cultivators, especially beginners like you, the foundation is the most important thing." His voice became gentle, persuasive. He pointed towards a small, intricately carved wooden chest placed on a high shelf behind him. "Ordinary rice only fills the stomach. But this..." He opened the lid gently.
Inside, the rice grains were not the usual white. They were a pearly silver color, each kernel perfectly round, seemingly containing a faint, elusive light within. A pure fragrance, like morning dew on young bamboo, wafted out.
"This is 'Essence Rice'," the old man said, his voice full of pride. "Grown in paddies nourished by spiritual springs, harvested under the full moon. Each grain contains a trace of pure spiritual energy, helping to stabilize and nourish the LINH power within the body, especially beneficial for those in the stage of solidifying their foundation. The royal family, the great clans, cultivators with resources... they all prioritize using this kind."
Khanh stared at the shimmering grains, a feeling of indescribable curiosity stirring within him. Bui To Nhu's words echoed in his head: "Fuel... material foundation..." Perhaps this was the high-quality "fuel" she spoke of.
"The price... how much?" Khanh asked, his voice growing small.
The old man smiled, indicating a number with his fingers.
Khanh was stunned. That amount was twenty times the price of ordinary rice. The entire sum Bui To Nhu had entrusted him, even combined with the small change he had just received, was still not enough to buy a single pound.
"Thank you for the recommendation, Elder," Khanh bowed his head, his voice full of regret yet practical. "But today... this junior did not bring enough."
The old man nodded, unsurprised, but a hint of pity flashed in his eyes—not for losing a sale, but perhaps for seeing a young cultivator without sufficient resources to develop. "It's fine, ordinary rice is good too. It's just... people like us, if we want to go far, sometimes have to invest from the most fundamental things."
The words were like a prick. Khanh completed the transaction for ordinary rice, once again using fake KIM LINH to "imprint" it. When he received his change—three crude copper coins and five small silver Koan exquisitely engraved with a phoenix—he perceived more clearly than ever the hierarchy: silver Koan for transactions, copper coins for small change, and somewhere out of reach, an entire world of "silver rice" reserved for those with privilege.
On the road back to The Heaven's Fracture, his hands weighed down with bags of food, his body weary from constantly forcing his LINH against its nature, Khanh's mind grew even heavier with thought.
In Tier 0, people paid with labor, with faceless "Utility Vouchers" of paper that could be stripped away at any moment. There, food was something to survive the day—usually leftovers, spoiled goods, or the cheapest things.
Yet here, in what seemed the civilization of Tier 1, everything was perfectly quantified: with metal currency of real value, and above all, with the biological signature—LINH power of each individual. But it was also a system of control so sophisticated it was terrifying. And now, he saw a deeper layer of distinction: the quality of cultivation "fuel."
The royal family and nobility used "Essence Rice" to build a solid foundation. Commoners like him, even the entire Heaven's Fracture, could only afford ordinary rice. The injustice lay not only in who had more money, but in who had the right to access the most fundamental things to become stronger.