1607. City and Gossip

“Did you hear what happened to the disciples of the Sword Crane Temple?” a drunkard asked his buddy, who had just joined him at the table. “The whole group got jumped in the night, all completely crippled,” he said with a slovenly grin, swinging his cup around

His buddy laughed out loud.

“Hah! I actually know more than you, Old Pang,” he bragged, filling himself a cup of cheap wine from the pitcher on the table. “I listened in on the talk from the guards. Some great expert actually showed mercy,” he said with a nod, sipping the wine.

“Mercy?” Old Pang asked, surprised.

“Yeah, mercy. Everything in their body is broken, except their dantian. Recovery may take a couple of years, but their life isn't ruined. More interesting is the reason,” he said mysteriously, leaning over the table to get closer to his friend.

Old Pang smelled the tea and leaned in to get the hottest information.

“The guards still try to keep it under wraps, but there was something written in blood on the walls of their hotel rooms. Apparently, the Sword Crane Temple sabotaged the Stargazing Terrace and played the savior to gain traction!” he revealed to his buddy. Old Pang stared at him in disbelief.

“Don't they pride themselves as a sect of the white path? To think they would go this far...” Old Pang mumbled with a slight drunken haze. He rarely thought about this stuff, but the booze tended to make him philosophize about the light and dark path.

“Don't be too surprised, yet. The Sword Crane Temple wasn't the only one that was struck. They were just the worst off,” his friend pulled another ace from his sleeve as he emptied the wine and ordered a new bottle on Old Pang's bill.

“Several other groups of disciples staying at the Emerald Terraces, like the group from the Crimson Demon Palace, also got harsh beatings by anonymous assailants and were warned to pull a stunt, like the Sword Crane Temple,” he dropped the bomb smugly.

“All of them were beaten?” Old Pang asked, shocked. Only experts and the rich were supposed to stay at the Emerald Terraces; other groups wouldn't be weaker than the delegation of Crimson Demon Palace, yet they and others had been attacked and beaten in the same night?

“Like children trying to fight an adult, or so I heard. The fight didn't even escalate. None of the hotels suffered any damage,” the friend revealed, after emptying the free wine in one go.

“I guess the city might actually quiet down if someone put a thumb on these guys,” Old Pang said, leaning back in his chair, his thoughts distracted. He knew that there were always hidden tigers and crouching dragons out there, but to think there would be someone so brazen as to offend two of the big players at once...

He leaned in really close to his friend, chugging the wine he paid for and snatching the wine bottle away from him, hastily filling his cup. “To that, a toast! I have been saying for ages that someone had to clean up this place!” he said cheerily and bumped cups with his buddy.

This chapter was copied from NovelPhoenix without the author's permission. Reading the author's posting there helps support their work.

“Toast to the hero of the Emerald Terraces!” his buddy agreed with a laugh. Conversations like this could be heard everywhere in the busy market district. Seth kept an ear open for rumors and conversations as they walked through the crowd.

The bard didn't do it to hear praise for their work, although he appreciated their appreciation. The blacksmith had been listening to see whether the possessor he helped was already making news. Despite being praised as a Hero in Konan, nobody cared for such a backwater place in a big city.

However, he was sure Mo Fan would make waves at some point.

“That shop looks okay; let's go there next,” Mina said, pointing at a small shop with a couple of spears and swords on display. Since the honeymoon was paused, the trio decided to take care of the clutter in Legion's space.

For that, they were going to various different shops, selling bundles of low-tier weapons Seth looted from the Silk River Sect. Weapons that would have been sought after in Konan could easily be sold in bundles of tens in Doushi in most shops.

Of course, they didn't just sell everything at one shop; instead, they had been making their way through the commercial district, hitting various shops of various sizes, controlling the number of weapons they sold to fit the various stories they told.

In the Cloud Continent, it was not too weird for bandits or rogue cultivators to attack travelers, and it was not that weird for travelers to counter-kill them either. As such, it wasn't hard to come up with stories of robberies or betrayal to sell 10-20 weapons at once at each shop.

Although these sharpened metal planks were common and not much based on craftsmanship, they sold for a pretty penny. Selling for 5-8 medium-grade spirit stones, they were pretty much the standard quality most cultivators could afford and would use for a long time.

Seeing the market for weapons in this place, Seth actually began feeling a little bad for having disparaged the craftsmanship of the Voracious Cloud Continent in the past. Truth was, there were some exemplary weapons that came from this place, like Nam's Mantamanta, or the Primordial Silver Blade.

Walking around this place, Seth understood the struggle of the artificers here. The sharpened metal planks were just an evolution of style born from necessity. Materials that could withstand the energy and force of a cultivator were scarce and expensive in the province.

Few people could afford the weapons, much less the materials, but what they could afford with their strength was dragging and swinging around a hunk of metal, thick enough to take the beating. Maybe Mo Fan's choice to take a well-crafted sword with tremendous durability was not as stupid as he thought.

No, it was totally stupid from his standpoint. Seth could have made him a waaay better weapon. But from the possessor's perspective, the deal may not have been as bad as the bard thought.

“Welp, those were the last ones I can sell here. Let's go look for an information broker next,' the blacksmith suggested after they hit the tenth small store and had sold roughly 150 weapons. Their travel budget had been bolstered by a sweet 1400 medium-grade spirit stones.

Considering that these equaled just 14 high-grade spirit stones and a single pill has cost 40... Medicines were an even bigger investment to the people of this world. That was probably the reason they were ready to kill over a single herb...

~To get more info on the Iron Claw Syndicate? Good idea,- Fin praised him, but the blacksmith shook his head.

~ I mean, we can do that, too, but I wanted to get info on a proper fence, maybe someone with manufacturing capabilities,- the blacksmith explained.

~ Because all the remaining ones have the emblem of the Silk River Sect. People will get suspicious if someone sold those, and I'm definitely not going to waste my time on them, so...-

~ So we need someone discreet who will take on the part of modification and distribution,” Mina finished his sentence.

~Exactly. I want to throw the problem at someone else, even if I have to sell for a little cheaper,- the blacksmith confirmed. Legion would become a lot tidier once those heaps of scrap metal were gone.