Chapter 15: Melodies and Meetings
Flux and Ryo spent the next morning wandering through the vibrant streets of Mologan City, passing through fragrant tea stalls, weapon shops lined with polished spirit steel, and talisman vendors shouting over one another. But their destination was a more refined one—The Cloudleaf Lyric Hall, a renowned restaurant known for its fine food, floating lanterns, and ethereal music performances.
Inside, soft string melodies drifted through the air, played by a young cultivator seated on a crescent-moon stage. Her voice flowed like water over smooth stones—calm, enchanting, and impossibly clear.
Ryo leaned forward, nearly knocking over his spirit tea. "Flux. Listen. That voice—by the heavens—if music could form a Dao, she's already halfway there."
Flux gave a small nod, eyes scanning the performer. The melodies held faint traces of spirit resonance—barely there, but real. "She's using a voice-cultivation technique. Impressive control."
They sat at a window seat with a view of the floating spirit-lanterns outside. While they ordered another round of cloud-fish dumplings and lotus-flame rice, a group of cultivators entered the restaurant, catching Ryo's attention.
"Oh, no," Ryo muttered.
Flux glanced up to see four young cultivators in matching blue robes—elegant, trimmed in silver cloud patterns. Members of the Blue Mist Mountain Sect.
Leading them was a calm youth with tied-back silver hair and a composed expression—Xuan Bei, one of the sect's respected inner disciples.
The first to spot them was Tao Wen, his easy smile already forming. "Hey! Ryo? What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to travel with us?"
Ryo coughed. "Well, you know… I wanted to take a solo journey. For growth. Character development. Insightful solitude and stuff."
Mei Lin, walking beside Tao, rolled her eyes. "So, you overslept again and missed the group rendezvous."
"Hey, it's not like that," Ryo protested. "I just needed to walk my own path for a bit."
The last of the group, Jian Yu, gave a small nod toward Flux but said nothing. He kept his eyes moving subtly around the room, his demeanor quiet and alert.
Mei Lin gave a long sigh. "Ryo, your stubbornness is legendary."
They eventually pulled up chairs at a nearby table and placed orders, though Xuan Bei offered, "You could've stayed with us, you know. We booked rooms at the Skylight Courtyard Inn."
"Nah, I'm good," Ryo replied quickly. "Me and Flux are doing fine. We've got our own... style."
They gave him another collective sigh.
After some conversation, the group glanced at Flux with curiosity. A few gave polite nods, though none asked too many questions—likely sensing Flux's quiet demeanor. Still, there were whispers after the two of them left.
"How did he meet Ryo?" one muttered. "They get along better than I expected."
Back on the lantern-lit streets, the crowd buzzed with excitement for the upcoming auction and tournament. Street performers played minor spirit instruments while food stalls roasted spiced meat over spirit flames.
Flux walked quietly beside Ryo, who kept chattering.
"Why don't you like your fellow sect members?" Flux asked, glancing over.
"They're not bad people," Ryo said after a pause. "Just... too serious. Always focused on inner sect rankings, merit contributions, tournament placements. Like everything is a competition. Sometimes I just wanna eat good food and nap on a tree branch, you know?"
Flux gave a quiet sigh. "I wonder how I've put up with you this long."
"Because I'm charming," Ryo replied with a grin. "Anyway, I do like some of our elders. And even though Xavier's cold, he's a real genius. I heard he mastered three movement techniques and two sword arts before even hitting the 8th level."
Ryo kept going. "They always compare us to the top disciples. Like Xavier Reu—our golden boy. He's a genius, cold as glacier steel, swordsmanship so sharp it probably slices qi mid-air. Already at peak Foundation Establishment and not even fifty. Me? I'm 44 and stuck at sixth level."
Flux looked at him. "You've still got over 150 years."
"True!" Ryo grinned. "Foundation Establishment cultivators get around two hundred years of lifespan. I've got time! Besides, I like the way we're doing things. It's slower, but... more fun."
Flux said nothing, but a faint smile curved his lips.
---
The next day, with the auction approaching, Flux made a trip to the city's Spirit Bank. The building was shaped like a silver tortoise—an ancient symbol of wealth and endurance in the cultivation world.
Inside, elegant attendants stood behind crystal counters. Flux approached one and presented a sealed pouch.
"I'd like to exchange 40,000 low-grade spirit stones for middle-grade stones."
The attendant raised a brow slightly but remained professional. "At the standard reduction rate of 100:1, that will be 396 middle-grade stones. Please wait."
Flux gave a small nod, but inwardly, he sighed. Four hundred becomes three ninety-six. Again with these 'standard reductions.'
Moments later, he received a new pouch filled with carefully marked stones, each glowing with denser spiritual energy. As he tucked it away, he paused at the threshold of the bank, glancing back for a moment.
Why did it feel so familiar?
Ah—yes. The Yellow Leaf Pavilion. That same polite smile, that same quiet efficiency… and that same feeling of being gently, respectfully robbed.
Flux let out a slow exhale. "Cultured bandits," he murmured.
Still, he couldn't complain. Middle-grade spirit stones were far more convenient, and he'd need every edge for the coming days.
---
He stepped outside, eyes turning toward the direction of the Golden Nimbus Pavilion.
As they walked toward their inn under the evening sky, spirit lanterns glowing overhead, Flux's thoughts turned toward the auction.
He had coins. He had curiosity. But what should he buy?
A technique manual, he thought. I know many advanced techniques from faint memories, but my current cultivation can't support them. I need something tailored for Foundation Establishment—something useful now.