Sword Fight

Su Qing’s decision to open a tea shop wasn’t impulsive.

She weighed her current conditions carefully before deciding.

First, she lacked standout skills for survival in the cultivation world—no alchemy, artifact crafting, talisman drawing, or array formation. Nor did she have special channels for procuring cost-effective cultivation resources or daily goods.

Her vision of a tea shop leaned closer to a milk tea store. The process wasn’t complex, but it had unique operational advantages. During high school summer breaks, she’d worked at a milk tea shop, mastering basic tea-making techniques and absorbing operational know-how through observation.

Her familiarity with this model was the first assurance of success.

Second, a tea shop’s costs were low. Excluding rent, labor, and equipment, the main expense was materials. Tea ingredients were cheap, with predictable daily consumption, minimizing the risk of overstocking. The entire supply chain was clear and controllable.

For a startup, a low-cost venture like this kept potential losses manageable.

Third, Manager Lin’s tea shop targeted a fixed clientele: wealthier students, teachers, and stewards. Its premium model meant high maintenance costs, passed onto customers, pricing out ordinary students. This left the lower-tier market untapped—perfect for Su Qing to exploit.

Since Lin focused on elite patrons, she’d take the opposite route: affordable pricing to attract the masses. She couldn’t compete for the third-floor private rooms, but the main hall’s business was within reach.

Finally, Lin’s actions irked her, fueling her resolve to open a rival shop as petty revenge.

Once decided, Su Qing committed to excellence. After quitting, she scouted available shops.

Only four vacant shops remained at the dining hall: two upstairs, two on the first floor. She ruled out the upstairs options and inspected the ground-floor ones.

The reasons they were unrented were obvious.

One was tucked behind all other shops, requiring a turn to find—poor location.

The other, ideally situated on the dining hall’s main path, was oddly designed: a convex shape, with the front only one and a half meters wide, squeezed between the prominent Pill Hall and Talisman Hall.

It faded into the background, like a stairwell, making business tough.

The previous tenant, tied to the Pill Hall, sold ointments, earning modestly. Now vacant, it was hard to lease—its layout screamed limited profits.

Su Qing chose the convex shop instantly.

It was perfect.

At roughly 38 square meters, it wasn’t small. The narrow front could host a counter for ordering and pickup, with an open tea bar behind and a storage area. The back could have a separate entrance, with space for small tables and stools for lingering customers.

It maximized every inch.

Dining hall shops were always in demand, even poor ones. Su Qing, acting fast, secured it at the logistics office. Luckily, the awkward shop remained unclaimed.

Rent was fixed by area, no haggling, which relieved her—she wasn’t great at bargaining. Without her windfall, she’d have negotiated fiercely.

She filled out the paperwork—owner details, business type, workflow, and staffing needs—then registered with her spirit pass, sealing the deal.

“For your shop’s size, rent is 20,000 spirit seeds monthly,” the steward said, calculating swiftly. “As a first-time registrant with unknown credit…”

Su Qing’s eyes lit up. “So, a discount?”

“…” The steward paused, offering a polite smile. “No discount. As a new registrant, you pay a deposit. How long will you sign for?” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

A short lease risked rent hikes upon renewal and limited her setup time. Su Qing thought, “Three years.”

“Three months’ deposit plus the first month’s rent,” the steward said, moving to the next step. “Spirit stones or spirit points?” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

“Stones.”

Three months’ deposit and one month’s rent totaled 800 spirit stones—80,000 seeds. Handing them over, Su Qing felt a pang, but reflected: a student once reliant on 1,500 seeds monthly now splurged 80,000 to open a shop. Progress.

No small spending, no big gains. She saw it clearly.

The steward counted the stones, confirmed, and handed her a plaque.

“Your owner’s spirit plaque. For three years, you’re this shop’s master,” he said. “Based on your business and size, you get four worker plaques.”

“Worker plaques?” Su Qing asked. “If I hire sect students part-time, do they need them?”

“No. Sect disciples have jade tokens, granting free movement,” he explained. “Worker plaques are for non-sect workers. You can hire four, but they need sect vetting. They sign contracts with you and the sect.”

“What do the contracts cover? Not violating sect rules or leaking secrets?”

“Naturally. Plus safety clauses,” the steward sighed, eyeing her naivety. “Some merchants, backed by big clans, treat workers poorly—beatings, or worse, like livestock. The sect isn’t their master, but while they’re here, we ensure their safety, at least their lives.”

Su Qing realized the contracts protected workers.

Having worked at Lin’s, she knew how bad conditions could be. Workers stayed despite this, likely out of necessity. The steward’s tired look suggested limited enforcement, but guaranteeing life was something.

With the shop secured, renovation was next. She declined the steward’s recommended team.

Physical work suited Body Sect members.

Ancient aesthetics wouldn’t match her vision.

Most importantly, to keep startup costs low, she’d do it herself.

…

Alongside renovation, she prepared materials and selected products—the shop’s lifeblood. Su Qing took this seriously.

Using her milk tea shop experience, she blended teas and spices from Lin Daniang with purchased fruits, honey, and milk, crafting varied fruit teas and milk teas.

No ice machine? She drew freezing talismans, making ice fast, only draining qi. No candied fruits? She bought and pickled them. No toppings? She hand-rolled tapioca pearls.

No conditions? Create them. For profit, nothing stopped her.

Tasting her milk tea, she nodded—it was *the* flavor. Silky, sweet joy—no cultivator could resist.

She didn’t test alone, inviting Tang Yueling, Tianning, and Jiang Weed.

Jiang Weed was eliminated first—he loved everything, offering emotional support but no critique. He even listed ingredients accurately: “Dragon Chant White Tea, Moon Shadow Pear Blossom, Celestial Fragrance Glass Fruit—so refreshing.”

Su Qing nodded. “Spot on. To keep this recipe secret, I’ll have to silence you.”

Realizing her jest, he grinned. “Another cup, and my lips are sealed.”

Tianning was useless too—she loved anything sweet, unable to criticize it.

“So sweet,” she said, sipping, a hint of joy in her eyes. “Delicious.”

Excluding these cheerleaders, Tang Yueling was the only hope for honest feedback.

Su Qing watched nervously as Tang Yueling sipped, frowned, and pondered.

“Well?”

Tang Yueling savored the sweetness. “Dragon Chant White Tea, Celestial Fragrance Glass Fruit—fragrant, but too sweet. Lots of sugar and honey, odd. The tea’s not bitter, silky—cold brew? Novel.”

She sipped again. “I prefer plain tea, not tea soups. But this method’s fresh, strong fruit flavor, sweet and smooth. Just… weird.”

When she called it “weird” yet took a third sip, Su Qing knew she’d nailed it.

No one resisted sweet drinks. Cultivation was bitter—why not indulge?

Three testers weren’t enough. She sent samples to Senior Sisters Weiyue, Zhu Xu, Xu Jiuxing, and other Body Sect seniors, earning “weird but tasty” reviews.

Senior Brother Zhang Mingliang messaged her at midnight: “Junior Sister, the moon’s bright, the air clear—perfect for cultivation. Meditating, I felt restless, missing the flavor of your tea!”

After rambling, he revealed his aim: “Junior Sister, you selling that tea?”

Su Qing grinned—very feasible.

She planned to source materials off-mountain.

Lin Daniang’s teas were high-grade, used for testing. For the shop, cost dictated cheaper materials. Dining hall goods were pricey, unsuitable for bulk. Off-mountain sourcing was necessary.

Confirming the teas’ appeal, she’d adjust recipes with cheaper materials and feedback, tailoring them to Sword Sect tastes.

She was set, except for going off-mountain.

Leaving the sect wasn’t simple—disciples needed valid reasons. As a shop owner, paying taxes to the sect, she qualified as a valued contributor, making procurement trips permissible.

The issue: Sword Sect to Tianque City was far. Her entrance exam trek took two weeks.

Time was money. Her shop’s daily rent—666 spirit seeds—couldn’t afford a two-week delay.

No choice: sword flight was now on the agenda.

Summoning Manqing Sword, its edge sharper post-blood crystal digestion, it gleamed like a well-fed beast.

She was mildly acrophobic, but Manqing was obedient, responding to her every command. A heavy sword’s benefit shone: her feet stood firmly, not dangling.

But aloft, theory clashed with reality.

First, she wasn’t flying over flat ground but from a mountaintop. Below was a sheer cliff, winds howling, flapping her clothes, swaying her body.

Second, her fear was worse than expected. Her heart trembled with her clothes. Flying unprotected on a small sword felt terrifying.

Cultivation trained the mind. If hers wavered, how could Manqing stay steady?

The sword wobbled, lurching erratically, nearly colliding with another! Bouncing in the wind, she risked plummeting. Fear fed instability—a vicious cycle.

She knew her flaw but couldn’t conquer her innate fear quickly.

Thinking of her daily rent, she gritted her teeth, spent 20 spirit stones at the Pill Hall for a first-tier top-grade Bone and Flesh Regeneration Pill. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

As named, it aided bone and muscle recovery. Unless instantly killed, it could heal broken limbs over time.

Encased in wax, it wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

With three pills, she climbed to Sword Sect’s highest point: the Sword Tomb’s cliff edge.

The cliff loomed, sharp as if carved, winds fierce. A slight move dislodged pebbles. The abyss below chilled her teeth, heart pounding.

Every cell screamed to flee.

Ignoring them, she bit down, stepped onto Manqing Sword, and leapt.