The early morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of my new robe shop, casting long golden rays across the polished wooden floors. The place was silent, but in my mind, the gears turned wildly. This wasn't going to be just any robe shop. No. This was going to be a sanctuary of refinement, a palace of prestige where every detail whispered luxury and power.
The shop's four stories stood proud, bearing the Clear Sky Clan sigil on its facade—a statement of legacy and influence. Each floor spanned roughly a thousand square feet, but what mattered was how space would be wielded, not just filled.
I paced slowly across the first floor, envisioning the future.
"Grade 1 robes," I muttered. "This floor should feel like a high-end fashion atelier. Think Dior, Gucci—sleek lighting that flatters the fabric, elegant displays that invite touch but demand respect. Staff need to move with grace and purpose, clad in attire that mirrors the robes' artistry."
I ran a hand along the counter, imagining glass cases with softly glowing spirit stones embedded within the wood, accentuating the robes' fine weaves and intricate embroideries. Every mannequin had to stand tall and proud, like silent sentinels of style.
The second floor, I decided, would house Grade 2 robes—more exclusive, more ornate, a step closer to perfection. The shopkeeper there had to be sharp, knowledgeable, someone who could cater to discerning clients who knew their silks and spiritual fabrics.
I recalled the young shopkeeper Hu from yesterday—competent, efficient, and with a sharp eye for business. He'd be perfect for that role.
But none of this would matter without the finishing touches—the aura, the fragrance that clings subtly to fabric and skin.
~~
The morning air was crisp as I made my way to the Cloudweaver estate. The invitation to meet Mo Yuyan, a senior representative of the Mo Clan, was formal and respectful. I knew this meeting was a chance to plant a seed—nothing more.
Mo Yuyan received me in a spacious hall scented faintly with rare incense. Her posture was impeccable, her expression unreadable but courteous.
"Ye Changsheng, the honor is mine," she said smoothly. "The Mo Clan values the Ye Clan's influence in Clear Sky City. I understand you have ideas regarding an alliance involving our fragrance craftsmanship."
I nodded. "Yes, Mo Yuyan. I believe an exclusive collaboration where your clan's perfumes enhance select robes could elevate both our reputations. I hope we can explore the possibility in time."
She inclined her head thoughtfully. "A prudent proposal. The Mo Clan always considers such matters carefully. We will await further details and evaluations. For now, I appreciate your openness."
No commitments, but the door was open.
Later that day, I attended a gathering with a merchant group—a diverse circle of shopkeepers and traders who dominated various niches in Clear Sky City. It was less formal than I expected; more a casual meet-and-greet where alliances were felt out rather than forged.
Han Rui, a well-known spice merchant with keen eyes, introduced me around. "This city's markets are labyrinthine," he said with a grin. "Knowing who's who is half the battle."
I listened more than I spoke, observing their mannerisms, their subtle rivalries and unspoken rules. Some were curious about my plans; others guarded.
A silver-tongued jeweler spoke of how loyalty here was as precious as profit. Another warned me to avoid flashy moves too soon.
The night ended without any deals, but with the beginnings of connections—names and faces I would need to remember.
I stared at the ledger until the ink blurred.
One by one, the calculations tallied up. The new lighting system that mimicked cloudlight glowstones, the custom-cut darkwood display cabinets with golden inlays, the uniform commission for the new staff robes, the subtle formation array I had designed with help from Changming to subtly soothe the air on the first floor… it all added up to a single, frustrating number:
Zero.
My budget was gone.
I slumped into the lacquered chair Hu Ren and I had dragged up from the warehouse. The chair groaned beneath me, as if sympathizing. The polished silver mirror at the end of the boutique floor reflected a young man in an impeccable robe with creased brows and tired eyes. My mother's black-red gift shone with quiet majesty, but I didn't feel much like a prestigious robe merchant.
"I thought I had spirit stones left over," I muttered.
Hu Ren looked up from the recruitment scrolls he'd been arranging and offered a lopsided smile. "You did. Then you bought those curved display rails from the Crescent Moon artisan group."
"They matched the room's flow," I said defensively.
He shrugged. "I don't disagree. They'll impress. Just saying—don't blame the stones for flying away."
I smiled faintly. But Hu Ren was right. I had underestimated the cost of luxury. Selling prestige meant living it, breathing it—surrounding oneself in the illusion that this was not a robe shop, but an invitation into a better life.
And illusions, I was learning, came at a premium.
There was only one thing to do.
Returning to the Ye Clan Headquarters in Clear Sky City felt like walking into a different world. The compound stood atop a gently sloped hill, surrounded by spiritual trees whose bark glowed faintly under the sun. The main hall was a wide, open courtyard-style building with thick golden columns and tiled eaves shaped like dragons.
And somewhere inside that stone-floored sanctum was the man known for being the tightest fist in all of Clear Sky: Sixth Uncle—Ye Tianxu.
If Tianjian was the gambler and trader of the clan, then Tianxu was the iron spine. A man of numbers, ledgers, and quiet judgment. He handled internal allocation of spirit stones and resources—especially for junior members like me.
I'd never had a reason to deal with him directly before. Now, unfortunately, I needed him more than ever.
He was in the side annex, cross-legged behind a low table, counting spirit stones with the precision of a swordsmith measuring temper.
"Changsheng," he said without looking up. "I was told you'd come."
I bowed. "Sixth Uncle. I hope I'm not disturbing you—"
"You are." He lifted his gaze, sharp as frost. "Speak."
I steadied myself. "The robe shop—"
"I approved thirty thousand medium-grade spirit stones already. You've used them in under a month."
"I know. I underestimated the cost of high-end renovation."
"Then overestimation will ruin you," he said flatly. "That is what high ambition does to men who don't understand walls."
I bowed deeper. "But I've learned from it. I now know the cost of crafting a presence in this city. And I refuse to let the Clear Sky Ye name be represented by a half-hearted storefront. I'm not selling robes, Uncle. I'm building a brand worthy of the Jindan power we represent."
He studied me. A moment passed in silence.
Then he pulled out a ledger. "Show me your expenses."
I presented him the detailed sheets I'd prepared. I watched his eyes skim the lines—he was fast. Faster than any merchant I'd seen.
After nearly a quarter hour, he sighed.
"You're not a fool. That worries me."
I blinked. "Worries?"
"Fools waste money. Ambitious ones waste legacy. You want ten thousand more?"
"Twenty," I said carefully. "If I get ten, it'll be gone in two weeks. Twenty gives me breathing room—and the ability to test limited-production sets and perfume integrations."
He raised a single eyebrow. "Perfumes?"
I took a deep breath. "From the Mo Clan. I'm in early talks to secure exclusive aromatic enchantments for specific robes. Scent branding. Emotional memory. It creates lasting association."
He was silent for a long while.
Then he pulled out a jade token and pressed his spiritual seal into it. "Ten thousand. You'll come back in two weeks. Not one day sooner."
I took the token, bowing. "Yes, Sixth Uncle."
"Changsheng." His voice halted me at the doorway. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
"I am."
He looked almost… proud. "Then spend every stone like it was the last chance your ancestors gave you."
Back at the shop, Hu Ren and I stood amid a storm of deliveries. The second floor was finally taking shape—sleek black counters with moonstone trim, floating wall panels enchanted to reflect fabric textures, a lighting matrix that adjusted brightness and hue based on time of day.
And the centerpiece: a semi-elliptical robe platform lit from below by soft azure formations, on which mannequins stood draped in robes of gleaming silk and subtle runic patterning.
"This isn't a shop," Hu muttered, jaw slack. "It's… it's like stepping into a Nascent Soul's reception hall."
"That's the idea," I said, smiling. "Anyone who enters here—merchant, noble heir, cultivator—should feel they've crossed into another stratum of existence."
I paid the artisans double for precision work. A curved grand staircase was fitted with silent treads and moonlight-carved railings. I had the floor divided: the first for Grade 1 robes—fashionable but affordable; the second for Grade 2—masterwork tailoring, rare spiritual threads, and scent-enhanced selections.
On the second floor, I brought in only two chairs for customers—upholstered in red phoenix leather, facing a crystal-etched display counter.
No crowding. No clutter. Just refinement.
Even the staff uniforms, soon to arrive, followed a design I had chosen personally: high-collared black with red embroidery styled in Clear Sky clan sigils—subtle, elegant, unmistakable.
When the sun set that day, I stood on the rooftop garden I'd begun tending—my private place atop the four-floor store. The city lights shimmered below, and wind carried faint traces of perfume, market spice, and distant thunderclouds.
This wasn't just about profit.
It was legacy, carved into silk.