The early afternoon sun hung high over Hei Qiang Town, reflecting off the obsidian surfaces of the larger buildings with a glare that forced Su Lantian to squint. Walking beside Xiao Hu, he felt like a lighthouse in a storm—every person they passed served as a wave of confusion, their eyes lingering on his blue nylon jacket and tactical zippers. He was a glitch in the town's ancient aesthetic, and the pressure of the collective gaze was starting to gnaw at his nerves.
"Xiao Hu," Su said, his voice low, "I realized a flaw in my logistics. I have the spirit stones from the ring, but I don't have a single bit of silver to pay for the clothes or your services. Is it common to pay a tailor in spirit stones?"
Xiao Hu nearly tripped over his own feet, his eyes widening as he looked up at Su. "Senior, unless you're trying to buy the whole shop and the tailor's daughter along with it, don't you dare pull out a spirit stone at the Iron Thread. You'd be paying a thousand times the actual price. It's like using a gold bar to buy a steamed bun. We need to hit the Spirit Exchange in the West District first."
Su nodded, his analytical mind quickly calculating the exchange rate. If one spirit stone was the entry fee for a cultivator, its value in mortal currency had to be substantial. They pivoted away from the central market, heading toward the West Administration Area.
The architecture here shifted. The wooden stalls gave way to sturdier stone structures, and the presence of the town guards became more frequent. The Spirit Exchange was a squat, fortress-like building made of reinforced granite. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of old parchment and ozone.
Su approached the heavy iron-wood counter. The man behind it was middle-aged, with a face that looked like it had been carved from a dry turnip. He looked up, his bored expression instantly shattering into a mask of pure bewilderment as he took in Su's hiking gear. He stared at a plastic buckle on Su's strap as if it were a strange insect from the outer voids.
"Exchanging... one low-grade spirit stone," Su said, trying to ignore the man's intense scrutiny. He reached into his jacket—carefully shielding the storage ring from view—and produced a single, pulsing white stone.
The official weighed it, checked its clarity, and then slid over a heavy leather pouch that clinked with satisfying weight. "One thousand silvers. Standard rate. Next," the man muttered, though his eyes never left Su's blue jacket until he had walked out the door.
"Urgent," Su muttered to Xiao Hu once they were back on the street. "Tailor. Now. I can't stand another minute of being a circus attraction."
Xiao Hu chuckled, leading him quickly toward the southern marketplace. "I hear you, Senior. But while we walk, keep your eyes sharp. We're entering the South District, and while it's the heart of commerce, it has its shadows. Have you heard of the Hui Gang?"
Su shook his head, his hand subconsciously resting on the pouch of silver.
"Ruffians. Thugs. The scum of Hei Qiang," Xiao Hu said, his voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "Their boss is a ghost—nobody sees him, but they say he's powerful, maybe even at the Foundation Establishment stage. Rumor has it he's got a 'cousin' or a 'brother' deep in the Town Administration, which is why the guards usually look the other way. If you see a man with a grey snake tattooed on his neck, you walk the other way. They don't care if you're a cultivator or a beggar; if they want your blood, they take it."
Su filed the information away, his mind labeling the Hui Gang as a 'System Virus'—something to be avoided until he had the proper firewall.
"And over there," Xiao Hu pointed toward the glittering North District, "that's where the high-end shops are. Most of it is out of our league for now. But there's one place everyone knows: the Qian Bao Pavilion. It's the best in town. You can buy anything there—ancient scrolls, flying swords, rare pills. If they don't have it, you can commission it, provided you have the stones. They have branches in every major city in the world. Nobody knows who truly owns the Pavilion, but even the Great Sects don't dare cause trouble on their property. Their power is... mysterious."
Su looked toward the North, the Jade Spire glinting in the distance. One day, he'd go there. But for now, they had arrived at a small, unassuming shop with a sign that simply read: The Iron Thread.
Inside, the shop was filled with the rhythmic snip-snip of shears. An old man, Old Man Feng, didn't even look up as they entered. He had a tape measure around his neck and needles stuck into his lapel.
"Three outfits," Su said. "Durable. One gray, one black, one deep blue. Low profile."
Feng looked up, squinted at Su's nylon jacket for exactly one second, and then grunted. He didn't ask questions. He didn't stare. He simply measured Su with a practiced eye. "Forty silvers for the set. Linens and reinforced hemp. Good for travel."
Su paid the silver without hesitation. He took the blue robe—a deep, navy color with reinforced stitching—and stepped behind a screen. When he emerged, the transformation was jarring. Gone was the "demonic jester" from another world. In his place stood a tall, lean young man with short black hair and fair skin, looking every bit the wandering cultivator. The robe fit his six-foot frame perfectly, accentuating his athletic build while allowing for the "dynamic movement" he prized.
"Much better," Xiao Hu said, nodding in approval. "You actually look like you belong here now, Senior Su."
Su stuffed his hiking gear into his backpack. It felt strange to part with the only things he had from Earth, but they were a liability now. "Let's find an Inn, Xiao Hu. The best one in the marketplace. I need a place to think."
As they walked back through the bustling Commerce District, Su felt the difference immediately. He was no longer receiving weird looks; he had blended into the background of the Myriad. He felt a sense of relief, but he remained alert.
He was so lost in thought, planning his next move, that he didn't see the man stepping out from behind a spice stall.
Thump.
Su collided with a broad shoulder. He stumbled back, his hiker's balance catching him before he fell. He was about to apologize—or yell, because he had clearly tried to avoid the man—when he realized the other person hadn't moved an inch.
The man was tall, heavily muscled, and wore a smirk that didn't reach his cold eyes. He was intentionally blocking the path. In the collision, two spirit stones Su had kept in his pocket for easy access slipped out, clattering onto the cobblestones.
Before Su could reach for them, the man's heavy boot landed next to the stones. He bent down, picking them up with a slow, deliberate motion.
"Look at this," the man sneered, tossing the stones in his hand. "I almost lost my lunch money. Good thing I found them."
Su's eyes narrowed, his blood beginning to boil. He was six feet tall and lean, but this man was a wall of meat. "Those are mine. Give them back."
Su stepped forward, his fist clenching, his mind ready to trigger the Black Cube for a one-second strike. But as his foot moved, a small, firm hand gripped his arm.
"Senior, don't..." Xiao Hu whispered, his voice trembling with genuine fear.
Su looked down at the boy, then at the man. On the side of the man's neck, partially hidden by a grimy collar, was a grey snake tattoo, its tongue coiling toward his ear. A Hui Gang member.
The ruffian saw Su's hesitation and huffed a contemptuous "Hmph..." He tucked the spirit stones into his own pouch and walked away, his laughter echoing in the crowded street.
Su Lantian stood frozen, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He watched the man disappear into the crowd. His analytical mind was screaming at him—Conflict detected. Probability of survival: Low. Strategic retreat advised.
"He's from the Hui Gang, Senior," Xiao Hu said, his face pale. "If you hit him, ten more appear. You don't have a Sect to back you."
Su took a deep breath, forcing his heart rate to slow down. He noted this grudge in his little "Revenge Notebook." He visualized the man's face, the tattoo, and the way he walked.
I'm not ready yet, Su thought, a dark, cold grin slowly spreading across his fair face. I'm not strong enough to fight them openly. But the Hui Gang is a system. And every system has a backdoor. He wasn't going to fight them with a sword; he was going to dismantle them with logic.
"Senior? We are here," Xiao Hu said, breaking his trance.
They stood before a three-story building with red lanterns and a sign that read: The Azure Rest. It was the best inn in the district, clean and bustling with travelers.
Su turned to the boy. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the remaining silver, counting out the five for the afternoon and adding ten additional silver coins. He patted Xiao Hu's shoulder.
"You did well today, Xiao Hu. You saved me from some trouble. Take the bonus. You can go back now."
Xiao Hu's eyes lit up like spirit stones. He bowed deeply, his swagger returning in full force. "Thank you, Senior Su! If you need anything else—anything at all—you know where to find me!" He scurried away, counting the silver with a grin that threatened to split his face.
Su entered the inn. The lobby was warm, filled with the scent of roasted meat and tea. He approached the innkeeper, a stout man with sharp eyes.
"A room for ten days," Su said, laying down two hundred silver coins. "And have dinner brought to my room. I do not wish to be disturbed."
He took the heavy bronze key and climbed the stairs. His room was simple: a firm bed, a small desk, and a window overlooking the obsidian walls of the town. After a quiet dinner of spiced rice and a local vegetable that tasted like peppery spinach, Su sat on the edge of the bed.
Silence finally settled over him. His thoughts drifted back to the small farm on Earth, to the space crack in the woods, and the crushing weight of the debt he had left behind. He looked at the blue robe he was wearing, so different from the clothes he'd worn just twenty-four hours ago.
"One second," he whispered, thinking of the Black Cube in his Dantian. "I need more than one second."
He lay back, the events of the day playing in his head like a data stream. As the moon rose over Hei Qiang Town, Su Lantian slowly drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, his mind already beginning to calculate the path from mundane to myriad.