Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Volume Sales
She’d meant to go check the Mission Hall, but now—forget it.
If people mistook her for someone hunting prey, that would be a mess. Hu Qing turned into a side alley and headed for the free market behind it.
She passed a stretch of buildings with hooked eaves, and the view suddenly opened up. Stalls sprawled all the way to the river, the air thick with shouting and bargaining. It felt like most of the city had poured into this one place.
There were plenty of vendors, and even more buyers. It wasn’t packed to the point of shoving, but it still had the feverish energy of a festival.
Hu Qing slipped through the crowd, looking for an empty spot, ears pricked for gossip. Sure enough, there was a reason for the excitement: someone claimed a major treasure had appeared somewhere nearby.
How original.
Still, if everyone was out treasure hunting, her swords and blades should sell well.
She passed a weapon stall where a customer held up a longsword and asked the vendor for the price. The vendor held up three fingers.
“Three hundred?” the customer snapped. “That’s robbery!”
Hu Qing’s eyes went to the sword—wrapped in beast hide, and honestly not even as good as hers.
Three hundred low-grade spirit crystals.
Her pulse jumped anyway.
She dropped into a squat by a nearby junk stall, pretending to sift through scraps while she listened in.
“Three is more like it,” the customer scoffed.
Hu Qing picked up a broken leg from some unknown thing, her mouth drooping in a convincing pout.
“Two eighty. Take it or leave it.”
“Do I look like a fool? Ten.”
After a full round of haggling, they closed at fifteen.
Fine. Start high, pay low.
Judging by the vendor’s satisfied expression, fifteen was still a fat profit.
Hu Qing stood up and drifted on, wearing the face of someone who hadn’t found anything worth buying. The vendor didn’t even glance her way.
As she walked, she mulled it over. That sword had been worse than hers, and it sold for fifteen low-grade spirit crystals. So that was the market price.
Which meant artifact forging in the Immortal Realm didn’t “start” at immortal weapons. Anything below immortal-grade still had plenty of buyers.
Back in Baoping Ward, the low-grade tools forging disciples used weren’t much better than well-made mundane weapons anyway. And spiritual treasures were priced in high-grade spirit stones—convert that, and it was only a few, maybe a few dozen, low-grade spirit crystals.
Low-grade immortal weapons probably started in the hundreds… though it also depended on the materials and what the item was for. A sword and a blade would never cost the same as a hairpin or bracelet.
She grimaced. She should’ve used prettier materials and made small accessories female immortals would actually want.
That had been a miss.
Next time, she’d forge some gorgeous little trinkets and sell those too.
She walked all the way past the river before she found an empty patch of sand.
She didn’t bother with a cloth. She took out fifty longswords and fifty broad sabers and stabbed them straight into the ground.
The display was so odd it drew attention immediately.
“Young lady,” called the leather vendor on her left, “how much for your swords?”
Hu Qing didn’t even blink. “Five hundred each.”
The spirit rice vendor on her right almost choked. “Five hundred? Are you trying to rob people?”
“It’s an opening price.” Hu Qing flicked a hand, then glanced at his stall. “Oh? Your spirit rice is one hundred a bag?”
That wasn’t cheap. One bag wouldn’t even cover a single meal if she really let herself eat.
The rice vendor grinned. “Opening price.”
Hu Qing looked farther left. One hide was six hundred. Were these hides from divine beasts or something?
All three of them exchanged the same knowing laugh, like: same game, same rules.
Hu Qing didn’t hawk her goods. She set out a little stool, folded her arms, and sat in the sun like she was on vacation.
The stalls on either side of her stayed busy. Leather and spirit rice were daily necessities—fast-moving goods. People wandered over to Hu Qing’s weapons, did a slow circle, picked at every detail with their eyes, didn’t touch a thing, and walked off.
Hu Qing didn’t call anyone back. If you wanted to buy, you’d buy.
After a long while, the leather vendor finally had a lull. He glanced over, saw how relaxed she was, hesitated, then walked over as if he was only killing time.
He pulled out a sword at random, and the words “good blade” almost burst out of his mouth.
He swung it twice, stared, put it back. Then he pulled out another. Another. Then he tested a saber.
When he finally spoke, he kept his voice low. “How much?”
“You name a price,” Hu Qing said.
“Come on.” The leather vendor’s eyes spun, already calculating how hard he could press her down. “We’re both in business. Don’t play games. Give me the real price.”
Hu Qing had been listening to him sell all afternoon. This man could turn pigskin into dragonhide with his mouth, and in a single hour he’d raked in a fortune.
She didn’t flinch. “How many do you want?”
He paused. “There’s a deal?”
“If you take more, you get a better price.” Hu Qing pointed at the sand. “I’m only here for one day.”
They’d been staring at her like she was a masked bandit in disguise. She had no intention of lingering.
The leather vendor’s eyes rolled again. “If I take all of them… what then?”
Hu Qing considered it, then held up three fingers. “Thirty-one each.”
The leather vendor gaped. “You’re insane.”
Hu Qing smiled and closed her eyes, as if the conversation was over.
The leather vendor went back to his stall. After a while, he looked over. Then he looked again. A customer came, he hustled, he sold, and when he glanced back—Hu Qing was still sitting there with her eyes shut, soaking up the sun like she had all the time in the world.
The irritation finally got him.
Who did business like that?
He marched over, pulled out sword after sword, checked the workmanship, the balance, the edge. Then he did the same with the sabers. His mind moved fast, tallying. There was profit here—real profit.
But if she didn’t give him a little more discount, it would gnaw at him.
“Twenty,” he said at last. “I’ll take everything.”
“Thirty.”
“Twenty-two.”
“Thirty.”
“Twenty-four.”
“Thirty.”
“Hey—twenty-six.”
“Thirty.”
“You—”
“Thirty.”
“I—”
“Thirty—” Hu Qing cracked one eye open. “One?”
The leather vendor choked on his own breath. For a second he looked like he’d swallow his tongue, then he snapped, “Thirty! Fine. Thirty!”
Hu Qing’s lips twitched. She’d been teasing him, and it had worked.
“Buy ninety, get ten free,” the leather vendor added quickly, trying to claw something back.
Hu Qing stared at him.
He cleared his throat. “Ninety-one, get nine free?”
Hu Qing sighed like she was enduring something tragic. “Ninety-nine, get one free. Pay in full. No credit.”
The leather vendor’s jaw tightened. “Wait here. I’ve only got a few hides left.”
Hu Qing tipped her chin. “If someone offers more while you’re gone, I can’t sell to you.”
The leather vendor’s eyes flared. Then, through gritted teeth, he started packing up his stall. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Hu Qing swept her weapons away in one motion, as if she’d never set up shop at all.
The spirit rice vendor blinked. “Leaving already?”
The haggling had been done through voice transmission. Hu Qing answered the same way, without moving her lips. “No one’s buying. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
She strolled toward the main street.
The leather vendor said nothing and headed the opposite way, toward the river, as if they weren’t connected at all.
The rice vendor looked between them, baffled, but a customer asked about rice and he had to turn back to his business.
By the time Hu Qing reached the main street, the leather vendor had already looped around. He’d even changed clothes.
They fell into step beside each other and wandered until they reached a quiet corner with no one around.
“I’ll treat you to tea,” the leather vendor offered.
Hu Qing didn’t slow. “Money and goods. That’s it.”
The leather vendor produced a small pouch woven with gold thread. “It’s in here. Count it. Put the goods in.”
The storage pouch was unmarked. Hu Qing counted carefully, moved the spirit crystals out, loaded in the swords and sabers, and handed it back.
The leather vendor swept it with his spiritual sense, nodded, and smiled like a man who’d just bought a goose that would lay golden eggs. “Fellow Daoist, when are you coming again?”
“One deal,” Hu Qing said. “I’m not stealing your market.”
The leather vendor relaxed—and looked faintly disappointed at the same time.
These weapons were good. With a little “refinement”—ahem—some “upgrades,” he could flip them for even more.