Lingwu Shop

No one responded; the crowd was stunned. The student who had been relentlessly challenging was now crouched on the ground, clutching his head in panic.

The freshmen were awestruck by Qin Hao’s devastating strike, their eyes burning with fervor as they looked at her.

No one dared think of leaving.

Of course, Su Qing figured the scorched path leading to the cliff played a small part in that.

Qin Hao exhaled in relief, muttering, “Settled. Good thing I studied swordsmanship…”

A mutant thunder spiritual root with a 90% development index, she was a heaven-blessed prodigy. Even in the Sword Sect, where raw talent wasn’t overly prized, elders coveted her.

The Pill Sect, Talisman Sect, Array Sect, and Artifact Sect all wanted her. But she chose swordsmanship because the elder testing her talent whispered, “With your gifts, you could master anything, but swords mean you don’t have to talk much.”

For a socially anxious person like Qin Hao, that was reason enough.

Before coming, her junior brother Yang Xi had suggested the “three-sentence rule” for teaching. It was her go-to during sect missions: three sentences, and if the other party—often rogue cultivators—didn’t comply, she drew her sword.

Drawing her sword solved everything.

Thankfully, she’d majored in swordsmanship.

Returning to the lesson, Qin Hao said, “Swordsmanship begins with the basics.

The fundamental sword techniques comprise eight forms: Draw, Pull, Lift, Block, Strike, Thrust, Point, and Press. Summarized by Free Immortal, we call them Free Sword Techniques.

They’re the foundation of all swordplay—every technique can be derived from these. Study them diligently.”

“Learning swordsmanship isn’t about memorizing but maintaining form without breaking or deforming. Practice is key. In the early stages, repetition matters more than a teacher’s guidance.”

“Per our seniors’ experience, practicing each form two hundred times daily is the baseline. Persist, and in three years, you’ll sense sword qi. With some talent, one year may suffice.”

“Thus, the Sword Sect’s daily task is two hundred repetitions of Free Sword Techniques. For sword cultivation majors, it’s four hundred, no upper limit. Whether more is better depends on you—no mandates.”

“We’ll assess progress in six months.”

Qin Hao demonstrated each form precisely, her movements carrying a natural grace. For beginners, mimicking the form was possible, but not the intent.

For Su Qing, who rarely exercised, even the form was a struggle.

Qin Hao reassured them: the disciple token—Lingpass—had shadow stones with standard sword forms and manuals uploaded. It would automatically sense and judge practice accuracy, logging each correct repetition until the daily two hundred were met.

The more Su Qing heard, the more it sounded familiar. She realized: Some transmigrator senior brought fitness apps to the cultivation world? Is this really a good thing?

She’d suffered through those in college!

Qin Hao announced the first Basic Swordsmanship (I) class over. The next, in six months, would be scheduled via Lingpass. It might be her or another disciple teaching—hopefully not her, she added.

She paused, then said, “As a teaching assistant, I shouldn’t say this, but as a senior, a friendly reminder: the annual exam for Basic Swordsmanship (I) is based on daily practice. Don’t slack.”

The class gave Su Qing a sense of the Sword Sect’s teaching style: masters lead you in, but cultivation is personal. Teachers assign tasks, then students have freedom. With long gaps between classes, discipline was critical. The tasks weren’t harsh—achievable with effort, regardless of talent.

Overall, free and practical.

Su Qing liked this setup; it let her balance study and life.

Her classmates, however, had mixed reactions.

Some grumbled, “The Sword Sect’s too lax. In my clan, elders guide us hand-in-hand, checking progress daily, clearing meridians weekly, and ranking monthly. No slacking, so we progress fast without straying to crooked paths.”

“And these techniques are so basic. I bet the Sword Sect hides advanced manuals, not trusting us.”

Others praised, “The Sword Sect’s generous—no sect tasks or contribution points needed, just free sword techniques on day one. And the teacher’s divine might! If she guided us, we’d gain so much.”

After Qin Hao dismissed class, Su Qing slipped away.

Her priority: activate her Lingpass. Without it, she couldn’t even do daily tasks.

Lingpass.

The second cafeteria—Student Dining Hall Two—was less formal than the first, hosting snack shops, spiritual tea stalls, Lingpass stations, artifact shops, pill shops, and weapon stores like the Lingwu Shop.

The Sword Sect was small, but its shops were plentiful, competing with colorful signs and evening lanterns to attract students.

Catering to students, they avoided shady practices, lest they end up blasted on the confession wall.

Su Qing found the Lingpass station, politely declined the staff’s upsells, used Tang Jiu’s name, and chose the cheapest forty-seed plan. Scanning the shop, she noted its wide offerings: sleek Lingpass models, cases, and tassels, all reasonably priced.

She sighed inwardly: No chance to get rich selling phone cases here.

After topping up, her Lingpass connected. The clerk explained it relied on the Sword Sect’s spiritual veins, so it only worked within the sect. If someone left for training, communication would fail.

Though outdated compared to phones, it met basic needs. Su Qing added Tang Jiu, Wei Yue, and Zhu Xu’s Lingpass IDs. Tang Jiu passed her request instantly, sending the confession wall’s account. She followed it, and Zhu Xu pulled her into a secondhand goods group.

Checking the confession wall, she saw the latest post:

[Freshman first class: Senior Qin Hao split the bamboo forest with one strike! [Shadow Stone 1][Shadow Stone 2][Shadow Stone 3] Seeking plant or spell cultivators skilled in bamboo restoration. DM me for payment details.]

In no time, it had over two hundred comments. Sword Sect students were idle.

Top comment: [Wanna be Senior Qin Hao’s dog: So cool, I wanna be her dog!]

Half the replies targeted him:

[Senior Yang Xi, you, you! (pointing)]

[Junior Yang Xi, checking out little Qin Hao again?]

[Yang Xi, stop pretending, we know it’s you!]

[If we’re being dogs, count me in!]

Mixed in were chaotic replies from [Wanna be Senior Qin Hao’s dog]:

[I’m not Yang Xi!]

[No room for you—Senior only needs me as her dog!]

The rest lamented not being plant cultivators to earn the repair gig.

[Can’t body cultivators plant bamboo? I’d plant faster than plant cultivators, banging them in!]

[I’m a pill cultivator, but I’m ace at growing spiritual herbs. Bamboo’s nothing—I should get that cash!]

Su Qing: …Is this the cultivation world?

Sometimes, she questioned everyone’s sanity.

Her 1,500 spirit seeds from part-time work and the sect’s monthly stipend had arrived. The stipend included no seeds, just a bottle of thirty Qi-Replenishing Pills (one daily) and the Clear Mind Technique, a foundational method akin to a multiplication table—basic but vital, usable from Qi Refining to Ascension if unchanged.

With 1,500 spirit seeds, Su Qing could spend carefully.

The second cafeteria had “supermarkets” with affordable daily goods. She bought tooth powder, bath beans, laundry powder, and paper and pens, spending fifty-four seeds.

After today’s four-seed breakfast, forty-seed Lingpass, and fifty-four-seed essentials, she had 1,402 seeds left.

Lingpass and hygiene items lasted a month. Subtracting 540 seeds for food, 200 for emergencies, and 200 for savings, she had 462 seeds—roughly four spirit stones.

Her Thursday-Friday part-time job included meals, saving about 120 seeds monthly. She’d allocate this to emergencies and savings, not touching it lightly.

So, she had around 400 seeds for discretionary spending.

Thinking of her sword-forging plan, she decided to start researching materials, even if buying was out of reach.

With that, she turned and entered the Lingwu Shop.

During freshman enrollment, the Lingwu Shop’s business boomed.

Most students got swords from the Sword Tomb, sparing them purchase costs. But these centuries-old blades needed maintenance.

Hilts needed repairs, cracks filled. Blades had to be polished to mirror-like clarity.

Then there were sheaths—most Tomb swords lacked them. Any respectable family would buy a fine one for their heir.

Even if a sword was perfect, a sword tassel was a must. Without funds for rare shark pearls or black jade, mortal gold, jade, or sandalwood beads sufficed. Every other sword had one—your kid’s couldn’t go without.

Freshmen, flush with cash, hadn’t grasped money’s value on the cultivation path. Unlike savvy seniors, who avoided spending by handling things themselves, freshmen were easy marks.

Thus, the Lingwu Shop was packed.

Su Qing barely squeezed in.

Staff and guides were swamped, barely managing to greet new customers. With no buying intent, Su Qing felt too shy to demand attention.

She slipped through the crowd, observing.

The shop’s business split three ways: ready-made weapons, custom orders, and repairs.

Ready-made weapons hung in rows—swords, bows, crossbows, spears, shields, axes, clubs, knives, even firearms. Prices weren’t displayed, but a nearby clerk mentioned tiers: 500, 1,000, or 1,500 spirit stones, based on material and power.

Custom orders tailored weapons to customers’ specs. If you provided materials, you paid only for labor and wear—starting at 100 spirit stones. Shop-provided materials added material costs. Su Qing eyed a display of spiritual iron ore, used for Qi Refining to Foundation Establishment weapons, priced at 200 spirit stones per jin.

To forge her sword, she’d need the custom route. Swords, being light, used 1–2 jin of ore—400 spirit stones for materials, plus 100 for labor, totaling about 500 spirit stones.

Five hundred spirit stones. With her monthly savings of four, that was 125 months—ten years.

Ten years to afford a sword!

Su Qing turned to leave. Nothing more to say—work, she had to work!

Then, a burly, disheveled student entered. The shopkeeper, mid-sales pitch, spotted him, apologized to the customer, and hurried out.

Something was up.

Su Qing blinked, quietly following.

The shopkeeper pulled the bear-like man aside, whispering, “Why’d you barge in? You’ll ruin my business! Youngsters, no tact.”

The man, an Artifact Sect student, retorted, “Your staff said stock’s low. Who’s delivering if not me? Want it or not? My sect can set up a stall ourselves.”

“No, no, don’t be rash!” The shopkeeper soothed, rubbing his hands. “We’ve worked together forever. Selling yourself is such a hassle—leave it to pros. Save your time for cultivation! Got the goods? Follow me through the back; I’ll have the clerk settle up.”

Su Qing kept her distance but caught the gist.

The Lingwu Shop sourced from Artifact Sect students. Buying directly from them could skip the middleman’s cut.

It was feasible.

But first, she needed to work and save spirit stones. Once she had enough, she’d explore the Artifact Sect.