Chapter 4: Chapter Four: The Fire-Repelling Hairpin

The marketplace is where low-level cultivators trade cultivation items, with a vast array of goods—potions, arrays, and spirit tools—all available, though generally of low grade and inconsistent quality.

As the New Year approaches, the marketplace is packed with cultivators, bustling and noisy.

Mo Hua walked straight to a small stall at the end of the street; the vendor was an old man surnamed Sun, known to acquaintances as Old Man Sun, whose son worked as a junior manager at Wanbao Tower and occasionally passed down substandard goods the tower rejected, which Old Man Sun sold cheaply on the street.

Old Man Sun was hawking his wares when he looked up and saw Mo Hua running over, breathless, his pale face flushed, and he couldn't help teasing:

"Young brother, come again to look at spirit tools? Won't you just stare again like last time without buying…?"

Mo Hua waved his small hand. "Buy!"

Old Man Sun blinked. "The New Year's still days away—did your family give you your lucky money so early?"

Mo Hua frowned. "It's not lucky money—it's money I earned myself!" He patted the pocket at his waist.

Hearing the crisp clink of spirit stones inside the pocket, Old Man Sun perked up and hurriedly said:

"Potions, arrays, talismans, tools—I've got it all, excellent quality, fair prices, no cheating old or young, and all from Wanbao Tower, top-tier quality. What would you like to buy?"

If they were truly top-tier, Wanbao Tower would sell them themselves—they wouldn't end up in the marketplace. But Mo Hua didn't care; he couldn't afford Wanbao Tower's prices anyway.

"Do you have any spirit tools that repel fire?"

Old Man Sun smiled knowingly, pulled out a cloth bundle, and spread it open before Mo Hua.

"You mentioned it a few days ago, so I kept an eye out—I searched hard and found several, all excellent fire-repelling spirit tools, compact and beautifully designed. Take a look."

Mo Hua glanced at Old Man Sun in surprise, thinking: no wonder he's been vending here for decades—he prepares thoroughly for any chance at a sale.

The spirit tools laid out before Mo Hua varied: rings, jade pendants, lamp stands, a cover, a silk scarf… just in appearance, they were the most complete collection in the entire marketplace.

Mo Hua examined them carefully, then picked up a hairpin with a simple yet refined design and asked: "What's this hairpin?"

Old Man Sun said: "This is the Fire-Repelling Hairpin, a standard-issue spirit tool, made to uniform material and craftsmanship standards, engraved with a basic fire-repelling array. It requires spirit stones to charge—when activated, the array blocks fire energy, keeping the user cool. Though it consumes spirit stones, one stone lasts three months—very economical."

Mo Hua frowned. "If it's a Wanbao Tower standard-issue tool, and it's here for sale, it must have flaws…"

Old Man Sun chuckled. "True—you know your stuff. I won't hide it from you: if it had no flaws, Wanbao Tower would sell it for at least double my price. But calling it flawed? That's overstating it."

He pointed to the peony pattern on the hairpin. "The artificer added a few extra strokes while carving this peony—it deviated from the standard, so this hairpin was classified as substandard. But the array inside is intact; its function is unchanged."

Mo Hua nodded, feeling this hairpin was perfect, and asked: "How many spirit stones?"

Old Man Sun stroked his beard. "Fifteen spirit stones—final price!"

Mo Hua shook his head. "Five."

Old Man Sun widened his eyes. "Who taught you to haggle like that?"

Mo Hua looked embarrassed. "I heard others doing it at other stalls…"

Old Man Sun groaned. "The morals of today's youth—good kids are being corrupted!" Then he added: "Fourteen—can't go lower!"

Mo Hua cautiously raised his offer. "Six?"

…

After much bargaining, the price settled at ten spirit stones.

Old Man Sun felt he couldn't go lower—not a single spirit stone less—and Mo Hua had already checked other stalls; none offered lower prices, so he agreed.

Old Man Sun took the spirit stones from Mo Hua's hand, wrapped the hairpin in a cheap but elegant paper box, and handed it over, muttering all the while:

"If my grandson were half as sharp as you, I'd let him help me run this stall. Too bad—he's slow-witted, can't even speak to strangers."

Mo Hua took the hairpin, satisfied, waved goodbye to Old Man Sun, and walked off with light steps.

A nearby vendor chuckled. "Old Man Sun, you took a loss this time!"

Old Man Sun stroked his beard. "I didn't lose—just made less profit."

The vendor asked curiously: "Ten spirit stones isn't small change—wonder who the kid bought this hairpin for?"

"Fire-repelling hairpins block kitchen fire—who else would you give it to?"

Watching Mo Hua's retreating figure, Old Man Sun sighed softly. "He's a good boy."

Mo Hua's home was on a quiet street at the edge of Xiancheng, in an old, modest house just big enough for three people; neighbors were all low-level cultivators, scraping by with odd jobs and menial work—poor, but full of warmth.

At dusk, smoke curled from every hearth, and dim yellow lights glowed in every window.

Mo Hua burst through the door and called out: "Mother, I'm back!"

A woman in plain cloth stepped out from the inner room, her face gentle and beautiful; seeing Mo Hua, her eyes lit with delight. She pulled him close, stroking his head and pinching his cheeks. "Have you been training too hard? You've lost weight."

Mo Hua said: "I haven't lost weight," then pulled out the box. "Mother, this is for you!"

The woman paused, opened the box, and found a hairpin inside.

"It's a Fire-Repelling Hairpin. You work in the tavern kitchen, exposed to fire all day—it harms your body. This hairpin blocks fire energy and keeps you cool."

The woman's surname was Liu, her given name Ruhua—Mo Hua's mother, a low-level cultivator in Xiancheng.

Life as a cultivator without a sect is hard—there are few good jobs to earn spirit stones, and raising a child is even harder: food, clothing, necessities, especially the tuition to enter a sect, and all the materials for cultivation—expenses too heavy for ordinary cultivators.

Liu Ruhua was an excellent cook and worked as a kitchen assistant in a small tavern in town.

Large taverns use spirit-forged stoves with arrays that convert spirit energy into heat, consuming spirit stones.

Small taverns cut costs by avoiding spirit stones—they have cultivators with fire elemental affinities expend their own spiritual energy to generate cooking heat. Over time, their bodies suffer fire damage: meridians dry out, lungs ache, and chronic coughs develop.

When Liu Ruhua worked in the kitchen, she had to constantly expend spiritual energy to fuel the fire, earning about thirty spirit stones a month. Though it damaged her body, it was still one of the better jobs a low-level cultivator could find—many wanted it but couldn't get it.

Holding the hairpin, Liu Ruhua bit her lip and said nothing.

Mo Hua hurriedly added: "I earned the spirit stones for this hairpin helping my sectmates—I didn't cheat, steal, or lie!"

Liu Ruhua couldn't help smiling, warmth spreading in her chest, tinged with sorrow. "I can't take this hairpin. You're still young—your future cultivation will need far more spirit stones. Save every bit you can. I can take care of myself—you don't need to worry."

Mo Hua replied earnestly: "Future matters are for the future. Maybe I'll become a Jin Dan or Nascent Soul master someday—then I'll have as many spirit stones as I want."

Liu Ruhua laughed aloud, tapping his forehead with her finger. "So young, and already learning to boast."

"Mother, just take it. I bargained for ages to get it—if you refuse, all my effort was wasted."

He took the hairpin, pinned it into her hairpin bun, then ran inside to fetch a mirror.

"Look—does it suit you?"

Liu Ruhua saw the woman in the mirror wearing a simple hairpin, looking dignified and graceful, then noticed her son's blinking big eyes; her heart softened, and she said gently, "I'll take this hairpin—but next time, don't bring me gifts anymore."

"Mm-hmm," Mo Hua replied at once, "Mama, is dinner ready? I'm hungry."

"It's ready—all your favorites. Eat more!"

Liu Ruhua's cooking was excellent; though the dishes were simple vegetables with no spiritual energy, they were exquisitely prepared and delicious. After eating, Mo Hua chatted with his mother, then returned to his room to read.

After Zi Shi, Mo Hua entered his consciousness sea and practiced formations on the stone tablet all night; when he woke, it was Mao Shi.

Mo Hua sat in meditation with his eyes closed, clenching a spiritual stone as part of his routine cultivation.

When he opened his eyes again, the sky was just turning pale; bright sunlight streamed into the room. Mo Hua stretched out on the bed, preparing to rise, when he heard heavy footsteps outside.

Mo Hua rolled onto his stomach, leaned his head toward the door crack, and saw a man covered in bloodstains and dust enter the room—it was Mo Hua's father, Mo Shan.