Chapter 51: Going Shopping
The afternoon sun hung heavy and blistering over Crimson Vale City, casting sharp, blinding ribbons of gold across the sprawling stone avenues of the upper commercial sector.
The air was a chaotic, dizzying assault on the senses—thick with the heavy, mouth-watering stench of roasting spice-meats, the sharp, metallic tang of divine-grade ore being hammered into shape by burly blacksmiths, and the sweet, cloying perfume drifting from open-air pavilions.
Everywhere you looked, life was violently alive. Cultivators in flowing silk robes pushed past rugged mercenaries draped in leather and steel, street hawkers screamed themselves hoarse trying to peddle fake longevity talismans, and children chased each other through the dense, weaving sea of bodies.
Lu Feng drifted through the thick of the midday rush with an eerie, unbothered calm, his hands buried deep within the oversized sleeves of his dark outer tunic. His mismatched eyes scanned the sprawling facades of the high-rise trade houses, the extravagant banners fluttering lazily in the stifling heat, and the endless sea of desperate, greedy human faces.
Unlike Silver Jade City—which felt like a decaying mausoleum choked by the paranoid, incestuous politics of a few rotting clans—Crimson Vale was a living, breathing beast of pure enterprise. Here, power wasn’t inherited through bloodlines alone; it was bought, sold, and traded in broad daylight with blood-stained gold.
"Step aside, you blind dog!" a rough, gravelly voice roared suddenly to his left.
Lu Feng barely blinked. He flicked his shoulder half an inch to the left, effortlessly avoiding a sweaty, broad-shouldered porter hauling a heavy crate of frost-crystals. The porter cursed under his breath, stumbling past before he could process who he had almost collided with.
Lu Feng didn’t look back. His gaze drifted toward a massive, three-story open-air pavilion where a greasy-looking itinerant alchemist was standing on a wooden crate, frantically waving a vial of glowing, murky purple sludge.
"Step up, step up, honorable martial artists!" the alchemist bellowed, his face bright red as he spat droplets of saliva into the crowd. "Behold the Dragon-Tendon Strengthening Elixir! Brewed from the marrow of a third-rank Azure Serpent! Guaranteed to break through your bottleneck in a single night, or your spirit-stones back! Only fifty middle-grade stones! Fifty stones for a lifetime of peerless might!"
A small circle of wide-eyed, gullible mercenaries leaned in close, drooling over the glowing purple sludge like starving hounds.
Lu Feng let out a dry, rattling scoff, shaking his head. *Watered-down ditch water mixed with crushed crushed mulberry roots and a drop of cheap beast-bile,* he thought with mild amusement. *If anyone drinks that swill, their meridians will tie themselves into a knot before they even reach the city gates.*
He kept walking, letting the cacophony of the bazaar swallow him whole. He paused briefly at a sun-bleached corner stall draped in rough-cured pelts. A scarred merchant with a missing ear immediately leaned over the wooden counter, flashing a jagged, yellow-toothed grin as he spotted Lu Feng’s pristine garments.
"Ah, looking for monster materials, young master?" the merchant rasped, rubbing his calloused palms together. "I’ve got northern frost-wolf pelts that’ll keep you warm in a blizzard, and iron-hide boar tusks fresh from the deep ridge. What’ll it be?"
Lu Feng reached out, his long fingers casually brushing against a patch of thick, silver-tipped fur. It felt coarse under his touch, poorly tanned and losing its spiritual resonance.
"The pelt’s rotting at the seams, and the boar tusks were harvested from a juvenile beast whose qi hadn’t even coalesced," Lu Feng replied flatly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You’re trying to pass off scrap-heap garbage as frontier spoils."
The merchant’s oily smile instantly vanished, his eyes narrowing into suspicious slits as he jerked his hand back. "Watch your tongue, boy—"
Before the man could finish his threat, Lu Feng had already turned on his heel, leaving the stall behind without another word. The crowd parted around him naturally, deterred by the cold, unreadable aura radiating from his mismatched gaze.
Gradually, the chaotic, sweaty madness of the open-air bazaar gave way to a much quieter, wealthier echelon of the city. Here, in the upscale artisan quarters, the streets were paved with smooth white marble instead of cracked cobblestones.
The buildings were constructed from dark, aromatic iron-wood, adorned with intricate jade window lattices and wind-chimes that produced a soft, resonant melody whenever a stray breeze swept down the narrow, shaded corridor.
Weaving past groups of haughty young masters escorted by armed household retainers, Lu Feng finally spotted his destination.
Tucked neatly between a high-grade tea house and a sprawling celestial scroll archive stood a sleek, imposing boutique. A polished dark rosewood sign hung above the double glass doors, bearing four elegant golden characters carved in flowing script: *The Veiled Blossom Pavilion.*
Through the expansive, crystal-clear front windows, luxurious silk garments of every conceivable shade—blood crimson, shimmering silver, pale glacial azure, and deep, light-absorbing midnight black—were draped gracefully over carved wooden mannequins.
Lu Feng pushed open the glass door. A small, pleasant silver bell chimed overhead, cutting through the heavy, oppressive heat of the afternoon and welcoming him into an entirely different world.
The interior of the pavilion was wonderfully cool, bathed in a soft, diffused amber light and heavily perfumed with the subtle, calming scent of burning sandalwood. It was an absolute sanctuary of high fashion and exclusive tailoring, completely devoid of the riff-raff shouting outside.
Instantly, a young female clerk dressed in immaculate, pale green silk robes glided out from behind a polished mahogany counter. Her posture was rigidly professional, her hands neatly folded over her waist, and her smile was practiced to perfection.
"Welcome to The Veiled Blossom Pavilion, honored guest," she greeted him with a deep, graceful bow, her eyes quickly scanning his attire to gauge his financial weight. "Are you looking to commission a bespoke set of ceremonial robes, or perhaps browse our ready-to-wear seasonal inventory for daily cultivation and combat?"
Lu Feng stepped further into the cool room, his hands sliding back into his sleeves. "I need two distinct sets of practical, high-durability utility wear," he said, his tone commanding and direct. "The first is for a female martial artist who prioritizes absolute freedom of movement, feather-light weight, and extreme resistance to turbulent qi fluctuations.
The second is for a woman who manages estate logistics and administrative affairs—it needs to balance sharp, professional elegance with rugged, travel-friendly fabric that won’t tear if things get messy."
The clerk’s eyes widened slightly in professional recognition. It was rare for a young master to walk in and articulate such specific tactical requirements rather than just asking for the flashiest silk robe on the rack. She immediately understood the tier of merchandise he was after.
"Ah, you are looking for master-crafted utility garments," the clerk said, her smile turning genuine as she gestured toward a quiet, cedar-lined alcove at the back of the shop. "We recently imported a batch of specialized textiles directly from the southern weaving mills. Please, follow me, honored guest."
For the next twenty minutes, Lu Feng moved through the racks with calculated precision. He pulled down fabric samples, tested their tensile strength with a subtle flick of spiritual energy, and inspected the stitching.
For Ye Chenxue, he selected a sleek, midnight-black set of reinforced silk robes woven with hidden, micro-etched defensive arrays. The material was impossibly light, practically weightless, but tough enough to withstand high-intensity martial sparring without shredding.
For Han Lin, he chose a sophisticated, slate-blue travel dress featuring structured shoulders, reinforced inner linings, and deep, cleverly concealed inner pockets designed specifically for ledger storage and portable talismans—a seamless blend of executive authority and field practicality.
"I’ll take both sets," Lu Feng stated smoothly.
He reached into his outer tunic, pulled out a small leather purse heavy with high-grade currency, and tossed it across the counter. The pouch landed with a satisfying, heavy metallic thud, spilling out a glittering pile of clean, unblemished gold coins that easily covered the exorbitant price twice over.
The clerk’s jaw dropped slightly before she quickly caught herself, her face lighting up with a breathless, ecstatic smile. She scrambled to scoop up the coins, bowing so low her forehead almost brushed the counter.
"An exceptionally wise choice, honored guest! Please, allow me to wrap these in our finest spirit-sealed silk packaging," she gushed, rushing to the back room.
Within minutes, she returned carrying two exquisitely wrapped parcels tied with golden cord, presenting them to him with both hands. Lu Feng took the packages, tucked them securely under his arm, and gave a curt nod of acknowledgment.
"Keep the change," he muttered, turning on his heel.
"Thank you for your patronage! Please come again, honored guest!" the clerk called out brightly, bowing all the way until the silver bell chimed again as the heavy glass door swung shut behind him.
Stepping back out into the blistering glare of the afternoon sun, Lu Feng adjusted the packages under his arm and resumed his walk down the marble avenue. The heat radiated off the stone pavement, making the air shimmer in the distance, but he remained unbothered. His sharp eyes scanned the surrounding storefronts until they landed on a charming, sweet-smelling establishment located just three doors down.
A carved wooden sign shaped like a frosted pastry hung above the entrance: *The Jade Frost Bakery.*
A thick, intoxicating wave of powdered sugar, roasted chestnuts, and bubbling honey rolled out onto the street the moment a pair of wealthy patrons pushed the door open. It was widely renowned across the upper district as the premier confectionery house, famous for delicacies that even high-level cultivators indulged in to soothe their overworked meridians.
Lu Feng stepped inside, the blast of cool, indoor air conditioning acting as an immediate relief from the stifling heat.
The shop was lined with crystal-glass display cases overflowing with pristine, glistening treats—steamed crystal sugar buns, layered lotus-seed pastries, and neat rows of fluffy, perfectly round honey dumplings that practically glowed under the warm, amber lantern light.