Chapter 5: Shopping
Flux waited patiently in line outside the towering gates of Oaktown, drawing curious stares and amused whispers. His massive bear-skin cloak hung off his small frame like a draped tent, and the oversized backpack—stitched from the same hide—nearly dragged on the ground behind him.
He'd also spent the last hour adjusting his voice, shifting it subtly with Qi to sound less like a soft-spoken child and more like a reserved young cultivator.
"Mama, look! A little bear's trying to sneak into town!" a child shouted, pointing with glee.
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Flux tugged the hood lower over his face, cheeks warming. "I look ridiculous… I need proper clothes. Soon."
The walls of Oaktown loomed high above—solid stone reinforced with spirit wood, glowing faintly with defensive glyphs. Banners fluttered from the ramparts, each marked with the golden leaf emblem of the local governing clan. The air buzzed with life: clinking armor, shouting hawkers, and the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer.
Finally, he reached the front of the line.
"Hey, little dwarf," one of the guards snorted, leaning on his spear. "Gate tax is two spirit stones. Don't tell me you've been hauling that bear for nothing."
Flux blinked. (Gate tax? I didn't even think about money…)
Another guard stepped forward, more polite. "Ahem… young cultivator, as my companion said, entry requires—"
Flux's Foundation Establishment aura unfurled like velvet smoke, refined and poised. It rolled forward with quiet strength, pressing gently but firmly.
"I apologize," Flux said in a slightly deeper tone, calm and measured. "I do not have the coin. Is that a problem?"
Both guards stiffened.
The rude one paled, while the polite one gave a sharp bow. "O-of course not, senior. Forgive the intrusion. Please enter."
Flux nodded slightly and walked past without another word.
Behind him, the polite guard muttered, "He could've just flown over the wall if he wanted… why the hell was he waiting in line?"
Oaktown's streets were a rush of color and chaos. Cultivators in bright robes strolled beside merchants and beast tamers. Floating carts buzzed past, propelled by formation stones. Shops lined every street—apothecaries, talisman vendors, weapon stalls, and even fortune diviners, all lit by glowing Qi inscriptions and rune lanterns.
Flux moved quickly, asking directions in his controlled, older-sounding voice, until he found it:
Yellow Leaf Pavilion.
Four stories tall, with redwood walls, jade roofs, and golden lanterns swaying from its eaves. A golden leaf sigil was etched into the twin doors.
Inside, the air smelled of polished wood and herbal incense. Rows of crystal cases displayed weapons, talismans, manuals, and armor. Staff in gold-trimmed uniforms moved with practiced grace.
"Welcome to Yellow Leaf Pavilion," a young woman greeted him, bowing. "How may I assist you today?"
"I'm here to sell materials," Flux said, lowering his hood slightly, revealing a cool gaze and silver hair tied back neatly. He looked like a young cultivator from some mysterious sect—small but composed, with an air of quiet discipline.
The attendant's eyes flicked to his oversized pack. "Of course, honored customer. Please follow me to a private room."
She led him down a quiet corridor to a chamber with spiritwood walls and a rune-lit ceiling.
"Please place your items here. Would you care for tea while we appraise your goods? We offer ginseng, honey-root, and snow blossom blends."
"Snow blossom," he replied.
She bowed and left.
Flux exhaled, rotating his shoulders. "Even my voice feels fake now… I should find a better way to disguise it."
Soon, she returned with a steaming cup and a polite smile. "Our appraisers have concluded. Your beast materials total 677 low-grade spirit stones. The spiritual herbs and plants total 486. In total: 1,163 low spirit stones."
Flux gave a short nod. "I accept."
"Would you like a storage pouch for your earnings? Our 200-cubic-foot model is most popular—600low spirit stones. Colors include slate, forest green, or midnight blue."
"Midnight blue. No enchantments."
"Of course." She handed him a smooth leather pouch engraved with a golden rune. "Anything else?"
"A flying sword," Flux said. "Low-grade."
"This way, please."
She brought him to a glowing display of spirit weapons. One sword floated silently—a sleek silver blade, darkwood hilt, and feathered inlay along the guard.
"Refined iron core. Wind-aligned. Swift and responsive—perfect for Foundation cultivators. Forged by Master Chen. Price: 300 spirit stones."
He tested its weight, gave a quiet nod, and placed the stones on the table. "I'll take it."
"Thank you, honored cultivator. If you need pills, talismans, or armor in the future, we do offer VIP—"
But Flux was already leaving, sword strapped across his back, new pouch at his waist. He paused by a fruit stall, glancing at a shiny mirror charm hanging nearby.
"…I look decent," he muttered. "Not a child. Not a beast. Just another cultivator."
But still… he felt like he'd just been quietly robbed.
He wandered until he spotted a small tailor shop—clean, with colorful fabrics and simple mannequins dressed in various styles. Not flashy, but professional.
A bell chimed as he entered.
"Welcome, honored guest!" the tailor, a cheerful middle-aged man, said with a bow. "Are you looking for formal robes, light travel gear, or something more casual?"
"Clothes that fit," Flux said plainly.
The tailor blinked, eyeing the thick bear skin cloak still clinging to him. "Ah… well, we certainly have something better than that. Might I take your measurements?"
Flux nodded, pulling off the cloak. The tailor froze.
Smooth, pale skin. Snow-white hair. Eyes like sapphires. A fox-like beauty that didn't seem human.
"Y-young master," the tailor stammered, quickly recovering into a deep bow. "Forgive me—I meant no disrespect! This humble tailor will do his best!"
An hour later, they had tried on dozens of styles. Flux finally chose a sleek black robe with silver trim and a wide-brimmed hat to shadow his features.
"The navy set brought out your eyes best," the tailor said hopefully. "And the sky-blue robe with the cloud pattern? Exquisite!"
"I'm comfortable with this," Flux said.
The tailor sighed dramatically. "Very well. But if you ever change your mind, I have plenty more to show you, young master."
With new clothes on, cloak packed away, and tail still neatly hidden beneath his layers, Flux left the shop.
Much better.
The Spirit Willow Guesthouse was modest but warm. The elderly innkeeper gave him a kind smile and a small room on the second floor. "Dinner's soon, cultivator. You'll like it here."
He did. The meal—herb soup, spirit chicken, spiced rice, and lotus cakes—was the best he'd had in months.
Stuffed and warm, he sat on his bed and counted his funds.
"Only 240 spirit stones left," he muttered. "I'll need to return to the forest soon."
He sat cross-legged and breathed slowly. The spiritual flow in the inn was weak but clean, the silence peaceful.
For the first time
in months, Flux wasn't hiding in a cave or running through storms.
Just stillness… and a brief moment of civilization.