Lin Yuan counted his spirit stones once.
Then he put them away.
A hundred and fifty low-grade stones was not wealth. It was margin. Enough that hunger would no longer decide his nights, but not enough to live carelessly.
The inn room had not changed because of it.
The same cracked window. The same thin wall that let voices pass through as easily as wind. Somewhere below, someone argued over payment. A talisman sputtered and failed, releasing a brief pulse of uneven qi that made the air feel gritty.
Lin Yuan sat on the bed and listened.
This was what temporary places did: they absorbed everything and kept nothing.
He had money now. That meant choice. And choice, he had learned, carried weight.
By the time the morning bell rang, he had already decided to leave the inn.
Lin Yuan did not go directly to a broker.
Instead, he asked questions the way people who did not wish to be remembered asked them.
At a steamed bun stall, he asked the vendor where cultivators usually lived when they were not affiliated with a sect.
"Anywhere cheap," the man replied. "Outer city, mostly. Inner city eats stones faster than pills."
At a talisman repair table, he asked whether renting inside the inner city was worth the price.
The cultivator laughed. "Only if you like noise and inspections."
At a warehouse gate, he asked a guard where retired cultivators settled.
"Near walls," the guard said after thinking. "Or near nothing."
Each answer was incomplete. Together, they formed a shape.
By afternoon, Lin Yuan understood three things:
The inner city was too dense.
The outer city was too unstable.
And most places tried to extract more than they offered.
Still, understanding was not the same as finding.
The broker agency stood between a pawn shop and a spirit grain wholesaler.
Its sign read:
Harmonized Abodes Brokerage
The characters were neat but unambitious.
Inside, shelves held rolled property contracts and thin jade slips. A man sat behind the counter, hair tied loosely, robes clean but worn at the cuffs.
He looked up as Lin Yuan entered.
"Buying or renting?" the man asked.
"Renting," Lin Yuan replied.
The broker nodded and gestured to a stool. "Name's Zhou Wen. What sort of place?"
"Quiet," Lin Yuan said after a pause. "Stable. Not crowded."
Zhou Wen smiled thinly. "So, not the inner city."
"No."
"And not deep outer city either," Zhou Wen added, watching him.
Lin Yuan inclined his head.
The broker pulled out a jade slip and tapped it against the desk. "You're not the first to ask for that."
The first place Zhou Wen showed him was technically inside the inner city.
A rented room above a pill shop.
The street was busy even at midday. Cultivators came and went, arguments broke out and ended without resolution, and the air vibrated with overlapping formations.
Inside the room, the walls hummed faintly.
"It's cheap for the location," Zhou Wen said. "Short lease. No long inspections."
Lin Yuan stood by the window.
Below, a cultivator activated a formation to haggle over pill quality.
The qi shook the glass.
"It won't settle," Lin Yuan said.
Zhou Wen blinked. "Settle?"
Lin Yuan shook his head. "Thank you."
They left without further discussion.
The next day, Zhou Wen brought him farther out.
A row of low courtyards pressed close together, separated by thin walls. Mortals lived in most of them. Children ran through the alleys, kicking debris aside.
The rent was cheap. The space was larger.
"This area doesn't see inspections," Zhou Wen said. "You'll be left alone."
Lin Yuan walked the length of the courtyard once.
The ground bore too many overlapping traces—burn marks, old talisman ink, careless cultivation.
"What happens at night?" he asked.
Zhou Wen shrugged. "What always happens."
Lin Yuan did not ask him to elaborate.
They did not return the next day.
On the third day, Zhou Wen grew more animated.
He showed Lin Yuan a recently renovated courtyard near a minor market road. New tiles. Fresh paint. A small spirit-gathering array proudly carved into the central stone.
"The owner invested a lot," Zhou Wen said. "Wants it to feel refined."
Lin Yuan stood at the array's edge.
The qi moved quickly here. Too quickly. Pulled, compressed, forced to behave.
"How long before it cracks?" Lin Yuan asked.
Zhou Wen hesitated. "Cracks?"
"The ground," Lin Yuan clarified.
Zhou Wen laughed uncertainly. "You're very particular."
"Yes."
By evening, Zhou Wen rubbed his temples. "If you want something invisible, you're going to have trouble."
Lin Yuan thanked him for his time and said he would think.
That evening, Lin Yuan did not return to the inn immediately.
He stopped at a small tea shop near the eastern wall.
The shop was narrow, with only four tables. The tea was cheap, brewed too long, and served in mismatched cups.
Two cultivators sat near the window, speaking without lowering their voices.
"…still hasn't sold," one said. "Wall's a nuisance."
"Who'd buy that?" the other replied. "Too close to the inner patrol route. And the qi never feels right."
Lin Yuan lifted his cup slightly.
"Owner won't rent either," the first continued. "Says renters complain too much."
The second snorted. "He's bleeding registry fees every year. Stubborn old man."
Lin Yuan finished his tea.
When he stood to leave, he paused beside their table.
"Which wall?" he asked politely.
The cultivators looked up, startled.
"The eastern bend," one replied after a moment. "Why?"
Lin Yuan nodded. "Thank you."
The next morning, Lin Yuan returned to Harmonized Abodes.
Zhou Wen looked up, resigned. "Changed your mind?"
"There's a courtyard near the eastern wall," Lin Yuan said. "Back against the inner city."
Zhou Wen's expression shifted.
"That one's not for rent."
"I know."
"It's for sale only."
"I'd still like to see it."
Zhou Wen studied him more carefully this time.
"…You don't even know the price."
"I want to see the place," Lin Yuan repeated.
After a long pause, Zhou Wen sighed. "I'll show you. But don't expect flexibility."
They stopped at a narrow street where the inner city wall loomed high enough to block the sun.
The courtyard gate stood closed.
Unadorned. Old, but intact.
Zhou Wen did not open it.
"This is it," he said. "Owner left years ago. Foundation cultivator. Didn't like the wall. Didn't like the patrols. Didn't like that the land never responded."
Lin Yuan looked at the gate.
"And the price?" he asked.
Zhou Wen hesitated. "One hundred and forty stones. He won't budge much."
Lin Yuan did not answer immediately.
Patrol footsteps sounded above the wall. Passed. Faded.
The street behind them carried the distant noise of the outer market.
Between the two, the courtyard waited.
"I'd like to see inside," Lin Yuan said.
Zhou Wen reached for the key.
End of Chapter 59