The morning I left the clan lands was quiet. Too quiet.
The mist hadn't yet lifted from the valleys when I stood at the southern gate, dressed in travel robes stitched with the silver-blue crest of the Ye Clan. The old stones under my boots, worn by generations, carried the weight of history—and yet, my own future felt freshly written, scrawled in ink still wet with reckless ambition.
I looked back once. Just once.
Changming stood on the walkway above, arms crossed, moonlight robes catching the morning sun like liquid silver. He didn't smile, but he nodded—once, slowly. That was enough. My eldest brother never needed many words to speak volumes.
Changrui had given me a bundle of protective talismans, hand-drawn in his own blood and qi. "You won't need them," he'd said with that crooked grin of his. "But take them anyway. In case you want to look cool throwing them around."
Changjian, ever the quieter flame, had slipped me a jade token. "It's linked to me," he'd said. "Break it only if you're in real danger."
Mother had clung to me like she hadn't since I was small. Then she whispered, "You'll charm the city itself if you're not careful." Aunt Tianying had only sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before muttering, "Try not to flirt with a noble's daughter in your first week."
I'd smiled at that. I was seventeen, not stupid.
But I was restless. The clan was nurturing, protective—but I was beginning to feel like a bird with wings folded too long. I needed to know the world. Needed to meet people—especially women—and figure out how, in the name of all the heavens, I was supposed to start a family strong enough to shape fate itself.
And so, when the elders finally relented—thanks to Grandfather's heavy hand—I set out with my third uncle, Tian Jian, toward Clear Sky City.
Tian Jian was a curious man—sharp-eyed, smooth-tongued, and exuding the kind of calm confidence only a true master of commerce could wear like a second skin.
He had a reputation in the clan. A gambler's instincts without the flaw of addiction. A merchant's mind without the greed. And though he loathed the sight of gaming tables, he ran three of the largest gambling houses in the entire kingdom. "Because gamblers are idiots, and I enjoy being paid by fools," he'd told me on the road.
He was, in a word, terrifyingly efficient.
We crested the final ridge by noon. The road curved, and then—it was there.
Clear Sky City.
It wasn't just the biggest city in Azurewind Kingdom. It was the jewel of the eastern provinces, the confluence of four major sect trade routes, a place where jade pavilions rose like fingers grasping at the clouds and even the shadows glittered faintly with embedded spirit runes.
Stone walls rose like mountains, etched with defensive arrays humming with sealed qi. Formation plates layered the inner and outer defenses—just enough to repel a mid-Foundation cultivator with a flicker of will. The gates themselves bore beast motifs from ancient dynasties, their mouths agape in silent roars as thousands passed through them by the hour.
Beyond them sprawled a living, breathing maze of color and movement.
"The Ye Clan owns the Azure Ward," Uncle Tian Jian said as we passed under the great arch. "That's the eastern quadrant. Our businesses stretch through five streets—alchemist shops, talisman pavilions, spiritual restaurants, auction houses, and… a few more exotic places."
He gave me a sidelong glance and smirked. "Don't visit those without telling me first."
I did not respond.
He led me through the ward, pointing out various establishments. One sold spiritual wines brewed using moonlight condensation. Another—a massive dome-shaped store—displayed flying swords levitating above gemstone pedestals. There were puppet stalls, spiritual pet breeders, and even fortune tellers with Spirit Sensing techniques passed down from minor sects.
And then I saw it—an auction house boasting a signboard shaped like a phoenix wing, shimmering with a heatless flame. Just outside, a vendor was selling a stone that supposedly let you dream of your past lives. Another was offering roasted beast meat imbued with fire qi—smoking, fragrant, impossible to look away from.
My stomach growled.
And my hand reached instinctively for my belt pouch… only to freeze.
I stared at it.
My storage bag—woven with blue cloudsteel thread and inlaid with a single silver rune—was an exquisite thing. Father had given it to me the night before I left, after everyone else had gone to sleep.
"There are many types of treasures," he'd said, voice quiet as we sat under the moonlight. "Some hold weapons. Some hold gold. This one holds your mother's stitching and your siblings' blessings. I added a few spirit stones too… not many. Just enough to feel real."
At the time, I hadn't thought much of it. I was used to getting what I needed from the clan's resource halls. Spirit stones were for transactions and bartering—not for life.
But here… here, they were breath.
Everything cost spirit stones. Not just goods—but services, access, information, influence. The city was built on them. I should've brought more. I should've hoarded them like rare pills. My small pouch, though meaningful, was woefully light in a place where a single Spirit Beast feather could fetch more than a Foundation pill.
I swallowed. Lesson learned.
It was nearing dusk when we arrived at the inn. Before Uncle Tian Jian left for a meeting at the Trade Court, he gestured to someone across the plaza.
"Changsheng," he said, "this is Changhu. He'll show you around tomorrow. Don't let him rope you into anything illegal."
"I never get caught," said Changhu, bowing deeply with a grin so wide I could almost hear it sparkle.
Ye Changhu was a few years older than me, early thirties maybe, but he had that seasoned swagger of someone who belonged to the city like a fish to water. Tall, sun-tanned, with an ever-shifting gleam in his eyes, he spoke fast, laughed often, and had a kind of irreverent charm that made you want to trust him despite your better instincts.
"I'm from Chang Gen too," he said proudly. "Heard you were the 'prodigy hatchling.' Welcome to the real world."
"Hope I don't drown."
"You will. Once or twice. Then you'll grow fins."
Our first tour began just after breakfast the next day.
We visited a weapon emporium where the swords hummed when you walked by and the daggers flickered in and out of visibility like ghosts. A talisman parlor where a master painted sealing arrays midair, the ink drying before it touched paper. An herb market where each stall smelled like a different season.
At one point, I saw a spirit foxes leading people to a huge shop with six beast Hall written on its plaque.
"Is that normal?" I asked.
"Nothing's normal here," Changhu replied. "And everything is, if you pay enough."
When we circled back near Azure Ward's inner gate, Uncle Tian Jian was waiting. In his hand was a jade token, and behind him stood a modest, two-story shop with old beams and faded paint.
"This is the Spirit Needle Pavilion," he said. "We specialize in spiritual robes—armored, enchanted, decorative, and rare materials. It needs fresh eyes. You're those eyes."
I blinked. "I… run it?"
"You manage it. Staff included. Records, stock, sales. Start small. Earn respect. And don't waste resources."
I bowed, deeply. "Yes, Uncle."
He studied me for a long moment, then handed me the token.
"You'll be the youngest manager we've had. Don't embarrass the clan. Or me."
"I won't," I promised.
That night, after locking the shop's doors and placing the protection formation on the outer ring, I climbed the stairs and sat on the small rooftop balcony, overlooking a city that never truly slept.
Lanterns floated on qi threads. Voices drifted upward from distant taverns. A flute played somewhere, soft and sad.
I reached into my storage bag and pulled out the spirit stone my father had placed first—deep green, warm to the touch. I didn't absorb it. Just held it.
This world was vast. Chaotic. Beautiful.
And it was mine to explore.