The Outer Disciple’s Market Hall of Mortal Needs and Delights, typically shortened to just the Mortal Hall unless you were filling out official forms, was one of the largest yet plainest buildings in the Outer Village. Situated away from the main roads with their shops selling cultivation resources and luxuries, the building looked like it wouldn’t be out of place in any small town in the province except for perhaps its size. Barely more than a single story tall and built from simple roughly hewn wooden planks with a lightly sloping roof of clay shingles, it was hard to even truly call it a hall. More of a, well, Calvin wasn’t sure what to call it. But it certainly looked nothing like any of the other halls with their marble and jade, gold and glass.
Despite the simple materials, it was impossible to doubt that this was a building made by and for cultivators. First there was the size. Calvin had heard of some impressive buildings crafted purely by mortal artisans, but the Mortal Hall dwarfed them in scale. Though only a single story in height, the square building could fit the vast majority of the outer sect within it. It covered an enormous patch of land and from above was said to look more like a low hill than a building.
Second were the formations. The entire building was covered with them, transforming a flimsy structure of wood and clay into something said to be able to contain a clash between Nascent realm cultivators. Rumors said that the original building has been the result of a challenge between two long ago Fifth-realm Sect Elders, both specializing in formations. One Elder had claimed that the other’s reputation as a formation master was blown out of proportion, and that his work was elevated purely by the high quality tools and materials he worked with.
In answer, the other Elder had spent a year and a day building the Mortal Hall, crafting a wonder that would outlast both Elders from nothing more than mundane wood devoid of qi using only crude iron tools purchased from an unskilled mortal blacksmith. Allegedly, when the first Elder had seen what his rival had created, he had nearly experienced qi deviation and begged on his knees to learn from the one he’d once believed to be at best a peer or more likely a fraud.
Calvin wasn’t sure if there was any truth to the story, but it was certainly an impressively old and durable building, with some of the records he’d seen suggesting it was actually the oldest building in Outer Village.
In any case, the true origin of the building mattered little to him. What he cared about was what was inside. As the name suggested, Mortal Hall specialized in the basic things that mortals needed to live. Namely, food, shelter, clothing, and the like. It was one of the few places in the entire sect where you didn’t technically need spare contribution points to go, being the hall responsible for providing new or struggling disciples with just enough food, water, and basic hygiene products to ensure they didn’t die or stink up the sect.
Of course the hall also had plenty of ways to separate disciples from their hard-earned points. As soon as Calvin stepped through the hall’s double doors, his senses were assaulted by a cacophony of smells, sounds, and colors. The rich scent of roasting and frying meats mingled with that of fresh breads, pastries, and a seductive undercurrent of spiced and sweetened drinks. Vendors—actual vendors, most of them mortals hired by the Hall Master from nearby cities, towns, and villages—hawked their wares at ridiculously inflated prices, music played from within drinking halls and gambling dens, and the din of laughter and conversation provided a constant rumbling backdrop. And despite the hall’s drab exterior, colorful lanterns, painted signs, and often mismatched decorations of every make and color covered practically every inch of the hall’s wooden construction.
It was a very easy place to spend a lot more points than you’d expect. Though most of the items on sale were sold for fractional contribution points—even the Eight Peaks Sect would struggle to justify pricing mortal grains, meats, and the like at the same price as cultivation resources (though even still the markups were truly ridiculous)—goods at some of the shops and stalls within the hall could add up fast. Calvin had heard plenty of stories of disciples who’d come here to celebrate instead of the finer restaurants near Contribution Hall that offered spiritual wines and dishes prepared with qi-infused grains and spirit-beast meat, only to feast, drink, and gamble through their entire windfall in a single evening.
Though he had just had something of a windfall, and mostly certainly a reason to celebrate, Calvin wasn’t here for either reason. He walked with brisk, purposeful strides past colorful storefronts with brightly illuminated displays and ones hung with silk and dim lanterns. He ignored the calls of men and women, some richly dressed and others scantily clad, weaving smoothly between fellow disciples and salespeople alike. He did make note of the current location of several of the stalls and shops—they tended to move around a lot, probably another strategy to keep disciples in the Hall for longer—including the singular outlet where disciples could collect their monthly quota of grain and dried meat, a merchant who Calvin knew sold his favorite shirts to meditate in (his had a new charred hole in it and smelled faintly like burnt flesh), and his favorite snack distributor (spiced nuts were delicious, healthy, and affordable!).
Eventually he found his destination. Today it was in the very back of the hall, a less than ideal location from a business perspective but much less crowded than it was near the entrance, tucked in between a customer-less potter’s shop and a reasonably busy stall dealing in the same simple yet durable beige work clothes Gwen had been wearing the other day.
Jin’s House of Sugar and Spice was one of the less bright and ostentatious shops in the hall, with a generally good reputation among the disciples. A sheer green silk curtain hung across the entrance, a faint floral perfume drifting out from beneath it, and strings of colored glass spheres inside of which glowed small light crystals hung on either side of the curtain. Soft music and voices could just barely be heard coming from within, muffled, Calvin knew, by a portable formation cleverly hidden within the strings of lights.
The original Jin had been selected by the previous Hall Master and had died centuries ago, but had been extremely successful and established a sufficiently good reputation that his opportunity had been passed down to his son, and his son’s son, and thus for many generations. The family had been so successful in fact that it was hard to truly call them a mortal family anymore, as several of its members had become cultivators over the years and joined the Eight Peaks Sect. There was even a Core realm descendant of the family currently among the sect’s Core disciples, Jin Lou Song, offering the family and its shop a significant level of security and prestige.
A young woman with long green hair styled half-up half-down and wearing a short and low cut but still elegant silk dress dyed a pale cherry-blossom pink met him at the entrance with a warm smile and a small bow meant to draw the eye. “Greetings, young master. What can Jin’s House of Sugar and Spice offer you today?”
Calvin didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. He knew a lot of the other disciples liked the flattery, but having a woman from a family wealthier than many elders wearing silks and jewelry worth more money than he’d ever seen in his life (not counting the handful of high-level cultivation treasures he’d received from the Scroll) bowing to him and calling him a young master felt…extremely silly, especially when he knew she’d do the same for any disciple who approached the shop.
Instead he bowed back, trying his best to keep it just a little shallower than hers had been. He wasn’t completely sure that was the right thing to do—even after several years at the sect he was never quite sure how deeply he was supposed to bow to who and when it was appropriate to do so—but it was what he’d done the last few times and no one had said anything. Maybe he wasn’t actually supposed to bow to her at all, what with her being a mortal from what was on paper a servant family, but if so he was just being extra polite which was never a bad thing!
Growing up he’d just defaulted to bowing and scraping to everyone bigger than him or wearing clothes without any holes—namely, just about everyone—and the sect didn’t offer Outer disciples anything more than the most superfluous etiquette lessons. No shit Outer disciples are supposed to kneel in front of the Sect Master, who the hell wouldn’t when facing a Sixth-realm cultivator!
“Is Uncle in?” he asked.
She nodded bouncily, bending her knees and dipping her head before straightening again in a single smooth motion. “He is indeed. Do you have an appointment?”
He did not and told her as much, but doubted it would be an issue. Quarterly dues would be collected tomorrow and Mortal Hall felt practically deserted compared to how it usually was. No one wanted to risk not having enough points saved up when the enforcers came around. Tomorrow night the place would be absolutely packed, but for today there were only really three types of disciples out and about: desperate gamblers, those with a healthy surplus of points, and people who needed something specific urgently. Today Calvin fell into the final category, and the man he wanted to meet into the second.
“Well then, young master, I believe we do have some open seats.” She smiled brightly and withdrew a copper disk marked with the name of the shop on one side and a five on the other, “Since you don’t have anything scheduled, that will be five contribution points to enter.”
If he hadn’t been a Foundation realm cultivator with excellent control of his physical body the price might have made him wince even though he’d know it was coming. Five points felt like a high price to pay just for the privilege of spending even more money! Even though he could afford it, it still pained him on principle.
He let none of that show on his face, instead passing the girl a jade piece approximately the size of the first digit of his pinky finger cut into the shape of a pentagonal prism. Few disciples bothered with them due to how much added effort it was, but the sect did offer ‘coins’ with whole-point values, and Calvin found that he was much more aware of how much he was spending when he was passing over something closer to regular coinage and wasn’t just pressing his sect token again payment disks.
And they were very handy when making deals between disciples.
She wordlessly accepted the token, bowing again as she did so, and both it and the payment disks vanished into well hidden pockets in her dress. Then she pulled back the curtain slightly, releasing a wave of noise and sweet smells. “I welcome you to Jin’s House of Sugar and Spice. If there is anything we can do to make your time with us more pleasant, please do let one of our attendants know.”
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The inside of Jin’s House barely seemed like it was in the same building as the rest of Mortal Hall, though Calvin knew that all of it could be picked up, moved, and rebuilt in another of the hall’s many large storefronts in a single evening. The interior was dimly lit, scented candles burning merrily in paper lanterns on each table and dim light crystals twinkling in glass spheres hanging from the ceiling and scattered throughout the room. The usual slightly uneven wooden floors, smoothed by countless years and feet more than any sort of craftsmanship, were barely visible under layers of plush carpets, and a combination of tapestries, paintings, low couches, and more curtains covered the walls. The chaos of the outside was blocked out nearly in its entirety by the curtain and formation over the entrance and a green haired girl in a translucent blue dress and little else sat cross legged on a pillow in one corner playing gentle music on a zither with what Calvin assumed must be no little skill, though he didn’t know enough about the instrument––or music in general––to say for sure.
As he entered, Calvin found only about a dozen of his fellow disciples within the shop, spread out among five of the two-dozen small tables or sitting at the bar. There may have been more in the back of the shop, more than half of which was blocked off by a far thicker, heavier curtain that blocked out all sight and sound. Most of the disciples were men, though at one table sat a pair of his senior sisters who he vaguely recognized as both being in the top one hundred Outer disciples according to the ranking boards.
There were nearly as many employees of the shop moving about as there were customers. In addition to the zither-playing girl, six more young women in sheer silks or less moved around the floor, as well as a single similarly clothed and well muscled young man and another slightly older-looking but no less beautiful woman who stood behind the bar. Two more of them had the green hair that marked them as likely being members of the Jin family, the woman at the bar and one of the younger group. It was the legacy of a long forgotten ancestor who’d decided to leave his descendants a gift. If the bloodline had ever offered any benefits besides, those had long run their course, leaving only a distinctive hair color said to be common in those hailing from Yellow River Prairie but much rarer in other provinces.
Calvin didn’t have to look hard to find the disciple many in the Outer sect called Uncle. He was a huge man, his Outer disciples robe barely able to fit his broad shoulders and round belly both, and his shaggy green hair pulled up into a messy topknot held in place by the ribbon on which he wore his sect token. He lounged at one of the tables, a drink in a crystal glass on the table beside him and a blonde haired employee sat on his lap in a somewhat disheveled state, her head resting on his chest and her eyes half-lidded.
Jin Lou Kin, more commonly known as just Uncle or Uncle Jin, was something of a pillar of the Outer sect. Since he was part of a sect-affiliated family—and directly related to a Core disciple—he’d been able to stay in the Outer sect for far longer than he should have as a cultivator stuck in the late stages of the Foundation realm. Calvin wasn’t fully clear on the exact number but he’d been in the Outer sect for at least forty years, perhaps as much as twice that according to some rumors.
As far as Calvin knew it, his story was rather simple. Though the siblings had become cultivators at nearly the same time, Kin’s talent had quickly proven to be nothing compared to that of his younger sister Song. Thus when he’d hit a bottleneck in his cultivation with little hope of advancement, he’d decided to turn his focus to a different role that could advance his family’s interests. Leveraging his family’s name and connections, he’d swiftly risen to become an influential information broker and rumor monger, and soon an indispensable part of the Outer sect.
Uncle Jin knew everyone worth knowing and everyone knew Uncle Jin. For a small fee he could make introductions, connect you with just the person you needed, pass along extremely accurate rumors, and even help you acquire goods from outside the sect. The initial deal between the disciple who’d previously lived in Calvin’s current home and his two gardeners had been brokered by Uncle Jin, as had countless similar arrangements and more besides. Not everything Uncle Jin did was strictly allowed per sect rules, but that had never seemed to stop or slow him down, only raise his prices.
Today, Calvin didn’t need anything nearly so dramatic. He just wanted a little information.
Uncle Jin looked up as Calvin approached his table, a broad smile spreading across his rosy cheeks. “If it isn’t Calvin! I haven’t seen you in oh, it must have been at least six months! I hope Mei and Jane aren’t causing you any trouble, though if you’re looking to move into some place a little bit nicer I know just the place.” He stood up, carefully cradling his girl against his chest with one arm so she wouldn’t fall and gesturing to the chair across from him with the other. “Sit down, sit down. You’ve come at a great time, I just finished my previous appointment.”
Calvin sat, impressed as always by Uncle’s memory. The man had never failed to greet him by name since they’d met for the first time a few years ago, and unerringly remembered the contents of their previous conversations.
One of the serving girls—dark haired and eyed with a very full figure and skin several shades darker than was common around the sect that spoke of northern ancestry—stopped by the table nearly as soon as he sat down and Uncle turned to her before Calvin could try to politely turn her away. “A pot of the house tea for the two of us, I think,” he declared. Turning to Calvin he winked, “On the house of course, nothing less for one of my favorite customers!”
“Yes, young master,” the girl answered, nodding with the same bouncy movement as the woman outside had, though for her it was even more magnified. She turned slowly and strutted off towards the bar.
Calvin quirked an eyebrow as she walked away. “You say that to all of your customers, Uncle,” he noted.
The man laughed, loud and booming, his shoulders and belly shaking. Symbols around the edge of the table gleamed as a sound-suppressing formation activated automatically, isolating the laughter to just the space around the table so it wouldn’t bother the other customers.
“But does that make it any less true?” he challenged. “I have a big heart and plenty of care for all of my customers to share equally!”
Calvin glanced at the girl in his lap, then back at Uncle. This time she was just one of his family’s employees, but Uncle did have something of a reputation. “Just some of them a little more equally than others?” he suggested.
“Precisely!”
The servicing girl returned, a tray with two porcelain cups and an ornate silver tea pot held carefully in her arms. She set the tray down, then distributed a cup to each of them and poured the tea, which was a bright, nearly metallic blue and smelled vaguely of citrus, berries, and ozone. She waited for a moment, then bowed and took several steps back before turning away to return to her duties.
Uncle raised his cup to his nose and took a long breath, sighing contentedly before draining nearly the entire cup in a single sip and sighing again. “Ah, that truly hits the spot.”
Calvin eyed the cup warily. He had, in fact, quite enjoyed the ‘house tea’ the last—and only—time he’d had it. However he still found it vaguely off putting. It was hard to believe that mortals could survive drinking ‘tea’ with so much sugar and other additives, but apparently it was quite popular in the neighboring Eagle’s Cry Steeps province.
He raised the cup to his lips and took a small sip that seemed to send a jolt of energy down his spine, then set it back down on the table.
Uncle watched him for a long moment, then sighed contentedly a third time. “Ah, the wonders of fine drink and finer company. But I understand that you, my friend, are a man of action, not contemplation. What can your good Uncle help you with today?”
Calvin took a deep breath, taking a moment to organize his thoughts. “So there’s this girl. She’s a Gathering realm disciple of the Outer sect, quite close to breaking through to Foundation. She specializes in alchemy and cultivating spiritual herbs, and—“
Uncle raised a hand and Calvin cut himself off. “Let me stop you right there. Blond, grey-green eyes, perhaps a little bit of a stutter?”
Calvin frowned, but nodded slowly. Uncle’s information gathering within the sect was truly awe inspiring. How did he…
Uncle laughed, slapping his hand against his leg. “I see little Gwen’s finally made her move, or did you just catch her snooping around?” He shook his head ruefully. “That girl, honestly. Almost enough to make an old man like me jealous.”
Calvin blinked. Then he blinked again and took another sip of tea. “Oh?”
Uncle wagged his finger. “No, no, no. I’ve already said too much. You know the rules.”
Calvin clicked his tongue. Uncle always knew exactly what to say to get you hooked, but then he’d reel you in before giving you what you truly wanted. He didn’t bother asking for a price. That wasn’t how Uncle worked, not for repeat customers, and this was unlikely to be his last interaction with the man.
Unfortunately, he had been primarily focusing on his own advancement recently, and hadn’t spent much time out and about. Thus, his supply of fresh news and rumors was rather lacking, and he had to offer something a bit more substantial. He hadn’t been sure how much Uncle would know about a single Gathering realm disciple with no apparent backing, but it sounded like the answer was a lot. Thus, his payment had to be similarly valuable.
“I would appreciate your discretion in the matter,” he began, not that he was going to get it but he could always hope, “but I happen to have recently reached the peak of the Foundation realm. My foundation is stable and requires only some refinement before I am ready to attempt a breakthrough.” That wasn’t strictly the whole truth––his foundation needed a lot of refinement––but it was technically true. He’d heard that disciples at the peak of the Foundation realm typically spent several years preparing for their breakthrough, and he thought he’d only need a little under one. On that scale, a single year wasn’t really all that long.
Uncle did not react, and Calvin begrudgingly passed him a small bag which the older cultivator accepted wordlessly. “I came across some interesting pills during my travels outside the sect. I’m sure you can find someone interested in them.”
This time Uncle did nod slowly, then pour the bag out onto his palm. Inside were three small pills individually wrapped in pink, red, and orange paper respectively, along with two more five-point jades that quickly vanished into the sleeves of his robe. He regarded the pills curiously. “I’m afraid I do not recognize these, though I can feel their potency.”
“They’re Calcified Lotus Drops, from Flowing Crystal Mountain.” Calvin had taken the time to investigate the pills, though he had yet to use one himself. They were a little more exotic than he’d have liked to give away, but had judged that they were common enough that it wasn’t completely unreasonable for him to have some on hand. And from what he knew of their effects, he doubted he’d feel the need to use them himself. He’d never had any difficulties maintaining his focus during prolonged cultivation sessions.
Uncle paused for a single instant and Calvin suspected he was using whatever memory-enhancing method he practiced to try and place the name. Maybe he was wrong, but there was no way his memory was as good as it would need to be otherwise. Higher-realm cultivators were said to never forget anything, but they were both in the Foundation realm and Calvin definitely forgot things from time to time. Not many things, but some.
He was rather jealous of the method in all honesty. It sounded extremely useful.
“Ah yes, of course. Calcified Lotus Drops, a wonderful pill for any Foundation realm cultivator, or perhaps even one at the peak of the Gathering realm. What a fine gift you’ve brought your Uncle. Now then, where was I…”
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