With the backing of strength sufficient to "walk sideways" through the back mountain, Mo Fan walked through the marketplace streets with his back straighter than before.
This time, he didn't visit those open-air stalls that scammed newcomers, nor did he go to the Myriad Treasures Tower that made him feel financially inadequate.
Leading the murderous-aura-clad Mo Yan, he walked straight into a shop bearing the sign "Hundred Beasts Pavilion."
This establishment had a modest storefront, but the air was thick with a heavy bloody scent that no amount of incense could mask. This was the marketplace's long-established specialist in purchasing Spirit Beast materials, reputedly run by a sharp-eyed, hard-hearted proprietor who only accepted premium goods.
"Proprietor, buying today?"
Mo Fan entered and casually unloaded the enormous bundle from Mo Yan's back, dropping it on the counter with a resounding thud.
Behind the counter sat a small old man with a goatee, eyes half-closed as he rolled walnuts in his hands. Hearing the commotion, he lazily lifted his eyelids, glancing at Mo Fan's beast hide cloak, then at the black-clothed swordsman standing at the door like a guardian deity. The contempt in his eyes instantly vanished.
An expert knows quality when he sees it.
Though the black-clothed figure remained silent, that coldness emanating from him—achievable only through countless killings—made this man who dealt regularly with hunters feel his heart race.
"We buy. As long as it's quality goods, Hundred Beasts Pavilion turns no one away."
The proprietor set down his walnuts and reached to unwrap the bundle.
As the coarse cloth fell away, that complete first-rank mid-stage Raging Bull hide gleaming with metallic luster, along with two knife-sharp horns, was exposed under the lamplight.
"Hiss..."
The proprietor drew a sharp breath, his previously clouded eyes instantly brightening.
He didn't rush to name a price, but like appreciating artwork, carefully examined the cuts on the hide, then inspected the quality of the prime Spirit Beast meat pieces.
The more he looked, the more solemn his expression became.
"Masterful technique."
The proprietor looked up, gazing deeply at Mo Fan with newfound respect in his tone. "This hide was skinned completely, with almost no extraneous marks. Even more remarkable is this bull's head... the eye wound killed instantly, penetrating straight to the brain, yet precisely avoided damaging the foundation of those horns."
"Not just great strength, but the work of an expert intimately familiar with Spirit Beast anatomy."
The corners of Mo Fan's mouth beneath his hood curved slightly upward. He said nothing, merely maintaining his aloof persona while lightly tapping the counter.
"Name your price."
The proprietor pondered for a moment.
Normally, with an unfamiliar face selling goods, he would certainly lowball the offer. But these materials were truly premium quality, and moreover...
From the corner of his eye, he glanced at the black-clothed figure at the door, hand constantly resting on his sword hilt.
That silent pressure dispelled his petty schemes.
"Since you're a professional, I won't play games." The proprietor gestured. "This bull hide plus these horns—I'll give you 10 low-grade Spirit Stones. That's already the marketplace's top price."
Ten stones.
Slightly higher than Mo Fan had anticipated. After all, these were only partial materials from the bull, not the entire beast.
"The proprietor is straightforward." Mo Fan nodded, then dumped all the miscellaneous materials from his storage pouch—including materials from the previously killed Cloud-Treading Deer, accumulated poison sacs and beast bones.
"Clear these out together."
Half a tea's time later.
Mo Fan emerged from Hundred Beasts Pavilion.
The proprietor personally escorted him to the door, face wreathed in smiles: "Take care, honored customer. If you have quality goods in the future, remember to find this old one—prices absolutely fair!"
Mo Fan waved dismissively and disappeared into the crowd.
At this moment, his chest felt unprecedentedly full.
His original 45 Spirit Stones, plus the 20 just earned from sales.
Total assets: 65 low-grade Spirit Stones.
This was a fortune sufficient to drive any outer sect servant mad, and Mo Fan's first real bucket of gold earned in this world.
"This feeling of having money in my pocket feels wonderful."
Mo Fan took a deep breath, turned, and headed toward the Myriad Treasures Tower in the marketplace center.
This time, he didn't linger at the entrance or browse the discount sections.
Like a true big spender, he walked straight to that familiar counter.
The well-dressed proprietor still maintained his signature professional smile, seemingly not recognizing this poor body cultivator who'd attempted to haggle here days ago.
"Customer, what do you need?"
Mo Fan didn't waste words.
He directly pulled out that heavy pouch of Spirit Stones from his chest, slapping it heavily on the counter with a crisp crack.
"That copy of 'Body Forging Record'—I'll take it."
The proprietor paused, then his smile grew even more radiant. He didn't take offense at Mo Fan's rough gesture; at Myriad Treasures Tower, Spirit Stones were god.
"Right away! Please wait a moment, honored customer."
The proprietor deftly retrieved that thread-bound book with 'Body Forging Record' written on the cover, presenting it with both hands to Mo Fan. "A total of 50 Spirit Stones. May you prosper in martial fortune and achieve Foundation Establishment soon."
Mo Fan received that weighty tome, fingers gently caressing the rough texture of the cover.
In that moment, the heavy stone that had hung in his heart finally settled.
This wasn't merely a cultivation method.
This was his identity-laundering talisman, his excuse for explaining his strange strength, and the foundation stone for ascending to higher levels and shedding the "waste" label.
"Worth it."
After paying, Mo Fan turned to leave.
He still had 15 Spirit Stones remaining.
Previously, he would certainly have saved this money as emergency funds. But now, having gained earning ability, Mo Fan's perspective had changed.
Money only became truly his when spent to increase power. Hoarding only led to depreciation.
He turned into a nearby spirit medicine shop.
"Proprietor, give me five medicinal bath packages. The kind with gentle properties that strengthen foundations."
"Right away! Two stones per package, ten total."
Mo Fan paid, taking those five large bundles emanating rich medicinal fragrance. These were prepared for A-Song. That child's body was like a leaky sieve—the foundation had to be reinforced with medicine, or that "angel round investment" would eventually go down the drain.
"Five stones left..."
Mo Fan glanced at the bottles and jars on the counter, his gaze locking onto a small blue porcelain vial.
"One more bottle of low-grade Qi Replenishing Pills."
"Five Spirit Stones, please."
These were for Mo Fan himself. Though he used Mana, to outsiders he was a body cultivator. A body cultivator carrying Qi Replenishing Pills could use them at critical moments for appearances, or actually use them to restore stamina (though less effective than Rejuvenation Pills, they were cheaper).
When Mo Fan left the spirit medicine shop, he patted his empty pockets.
A pauper again.
Only a few broken Spirit Stones remained for transportation or tips.
But looking at the bundles in his hands and that bulging storage pouch, he felt no panic whatsoever—only unprecedented security and hope.
Night fell.
Mo Fan returned to the servant quarters with Mo Yan, carrying numerous bundles.
He didn't hoard the Spirit Beast prime meat privately, but cut a large piece—a full ten-pound Raging Bull hindquarter—and tossed it directly to Old Lü, who was tending the fire.
"Uncle Lü, extra meal tonight. This meat is highly nourishing—stew it for the children. Everyone must eat a full bowl."
"Oh my! This... how could I accept this!" Old Lü looked at that piece of ruddy Spirit Beast meat emanating faint spiritual energy, hands trembling.
"Eat up, I have plenty." Mo Fan smiled without further explanation.
Next, he called A-Song into his room.
"Take these."
Mo Fan tossed those five large medicine bath packages to A-Song, tone stern. "These are to strengthen your body. Start soaking tonight. I'll tell you in advance—though the medicine properties are gentle, soaking will hurt like needle pricks. If you can't help crying out, forget about training in the future."
A-Song clutched those packages heavier than himself, eyes instantly reddening.
He knew how expensive these were.
"Seventh Brother... I..."
"Shut up. Go heat water."
Mo Fan shooed A-Song out, then closed the door and latched it.
Only he and the silent Mo Yan remained inside.
The oil lamp flickered dimly.
Mo Fan sat at the table, pulling out that 'Body Forging Record' purchased for 50 Spirit Stones.
He took a deep breath, calming his excited heart, then solemnly opened the first page.
This was the first time since arriving in this world that he truly encountered a complete and orthodox cultivation method belonging to this world.