The Quest for Immortality Chapter 4: The Fire-Resisting Hairpin

The marketplace serves as a trading ground for beginner cultivators to swap cultivation resources, presenting a varied assortment of goods like pills, array formations, and spiritual tools, mostly of inferior quality and inconsistent standards.

With the New Year drawing close, the market buzzes with activity as numerous cultivators hurry to and fro, generating a lively din.

Mo Hua makes a beeline for a modest stall situated at the street's far end. The vendor, an old fellow named Sun—familiarly called Old Sun by those who know him—has a boy who labors at Wanbao Building. From time to time, the son brings home some flawed items that Wanbao Building rejects and passes them to his father for cheap roadside sales.

Old Sun, while calling out to potential buyers, glances up and spots Mo Hua dashing over, his face pale but reddened from the effort, and he can't resist a playful jab:

"Little brother, what spiritual tool catches your eye today? Don't say you're window-shopping without purchasing once more…"

Mo Hua waves dismissively, proclaiming, "Buying!"

Old Sun inquires curiously, "Isn't the New Year still a few days away? Has your family handed out your New Year's funds ahead of time?"

Mo Hua retorts with mild irritation, "What New Year's funds? This is cash I've made on my own!" As he says this, he slaps his pocket.

At the distinct jingle of spirit stones rattling inside the pocket, Old Sun brightens and enthusiastically announces:

"I offer every sort of pill, array, and tool right here, all lovely and budget-friendly, sure to please, and sourced from Wanbao Building, meaning the caliber is excellent. What do you want to get?"

If the caliber were truly excellent, Wanbao Building would handle the sales themselves, but Mo Hua doesn't mind; he couldn't afford their rates regardless.

"Any fire-resisting spiritual tools available?"

Old Sun, giving a sly grin, retrieves a coarse sack and lays it open before Mo Hua.

"You brought this up a couple days back, so I kept it in mind. I returned home and hunted down a handful of top fire-resisting tools, each compact and attractively crafted. How's that?"

Mo Hua marvels at Old Sun's foresight, proof of years spent in the trade, ever poised to grab a chance at profit.

A range of spiritual tools lies spread out for Mo Hua's view, differing in form: rings, jade amulets, lantern holders, and even a cloak and a muffler… His setup appears the richest in the entire market.

Following a thorough inspection, Mo Hua selects a hairpin, aged in style but finely wrought, and queries, "What's this pin?"

Old Sun describes it, "This one's a fire-resisting hairpin, a regulation spiritual tool. It's produced to consistent specs, bearing a simple fire-resisting array etched upon it. It requires spirit stones for power, and once engaged, it blocks fire qi, ensuring the user stays refreshed. Sure, it uses up spirit stones, but a single one endures for three months, proving rather cost-effective…"

Mo Hua appears skeptical, "A regulation tool from Wanbao Building up for sale here surely has flaws, doesn't it?"

Old Sun chuckles, "You grasp things well. Without flaws, it'd cost double at Wanbao Building. Though calling them flaws isn't entirely accurate…"

Indicating the peony motif on the pin, Old Sun goes on, "The artisan included some additional lines in carving this peony, so it fell short of the norm and got labeled second-grade. Yet the inner array is flawless, and its performance is unchanged."

Mo Hua agrees with a nod, deeming this pin the best fit, and inquires, "How many spirit stones?"

Old Sun rubs his beard, "A straightforward price, fifteen spirit stones!"

Mo Hua declines with a shake of his head, "Five!"

Old Sun's eyes bulge, "Who showed you how to haggle that way?"

Mo Hua flushes slightly, "I picked it up at nearby stalls; that's the usual bargaining style…"

Old Sun sighs, "The world's truly declining, even fine youngsters are picking up bad habits!" He adds, "Fourteen stones, that's my limit."

Mo Hua probes, "Six?"

...

Following intense negotiation, they agree on ten stones.

Old Sun believes he can't drop it further, not even one spirit stone, and Mo Hua, after checking rates elsewhere, realizes no better bargain exists, so he accepts.

Old Sun accepts the spirit stones from Mo Hua, packages the hairpin in an inexpensive yet neat paper container, and passes it over while grumbling nonstop:

"If my grandson had even half your smarts, I'd let him run the stall, but sadly, the boy's too

naive, hardly chats with outsiders."

Mo Hua, pleased with his acquisition, bids farewell to Old Sun with a wave and departs, light-hearted and bouncy.

A neighboring vendor laughs, "Old Sun, you took a loss this round!"

Old Sun strokes his beard, "Not quite, merely earned a tad less."

The vendor, intrigued, questions, "Ten spirit stones isn't trivial; I wonder for whom the lad got that hairpin."

"Fire-resisting hairpins ward off stove qi; who else but for her?"

Gazing at Mo Hua's silhouette fading away, Old Sun murmurs softly, "He's a fine youngster."

Mo Hua's residence lies on a serene lane at Tongxian City's outskirts. The dwelling is aged and suits a trio just right. The area houses mainly entry-level Qi-cultivating independent cultivators who sustain themselves through miscellaneous tasks. Though not affluent, the locale pulses with routine vitality.

As dusk settles, cooking vapors ascend from homes, and faint glows emerge.

Mo Hua bursts inside, shouting, "Mom, I'm home!"

A simply attired lady with a kind visage emerges from the back chamber. Upon seeing Mo Hua, her gaze sparkles with astonishment, and she draws him near, caressing his head and squeezing his cheeks, then remarks, "Have you pushed too hard in cultivation? You've thinned out considerably."

Mo Hua counters, "I haven't thinned," before producing the box, "Mom, here it is for you!"

The lady, taken aback briefly, uncovers the box to reveal a hairpin.

"It's a fire-resisting hairpin. You labor in the inn's kitchen, and prolonged heat exposure harms your well-being. This pin protects against the heat, leaving you far more comfortable."

The lady, Liu Ruhua by name, is Mo Hua's mother and a novice Qi-cultivating loose cultivator in Tongxian City.

Existence as a loose cultivator proves arduous, with scarce chances to amass spirit stones, particularly for parents. Nurturing a child, managing daily costs, and securing cultivation supplies present formidable hurdles for average cultivators.

Liu Ruhua possesses fine cooking abilities and assists in a modest city's inn kitchen.

Grand inns typically employ forges made by craftsmen, which burn spirit stones to transform spiritual energy into culinary fire.

To cut expenses, lesser inns skip spirit stones for meals, relying instead on fire spiritual root cultivators to produce heat via their spiritual power. Prolonged use damages the form, parching the meridians and leading to issues like chest aches and hacking coughs.

While toiling in the kitchen, Liu Ruhua intermittently channels her spiritual power for warmth, drawing roughly thirty spirit stones monthly. Despite the toll on health, it's viewed as a solid position among loose cultivators, envied by many who seek but lack such work.

Eyeing the hairpin clutched in her palm, Liu Ruhua bites her lip, wordless.

Mo Hua hastens to clarify, "The spirit stones for the hairpin came from aiding sect mates, all honest—no deceit, theft, or plunder!"

Liu Ruhua smiles inevitably, her heart warming with a touch of moisture in her eyes, "I shouldn't take this hairpin, son. You're young yet, and your path in cultivation will demand plenty of spirit stones. Hoard them. I'll manage fine; no need for your concern…"

Mo Hua asserts boldly, "Future worries can wait. Perhaps one day I'll rise to Golden Core or Nascent Soul as a mighty cultivator, with spirit stones aplenty at my disposal."

Liu Ruhua chuckles, lightly rapping Mo Hua's brow, "So youthful, yet you've mastered tall tales."

"Mom, do keep it. I haggled endlessly to obtain it. If you refuse, my efforts go to waste."

Mo Hua then lifts the hairpin and deftly places it in Liu Ruhua’s hair, dashing off to fetch a mirror.

"See, does it suit you?"

Viewing her mirrored image, the lady graced by the unadorned yet refined hairpin, exuding poise and allure, Liu Ruhua's resolve melts, and she softly agrees, "I'll treasure the hairpin. But no more presents next time."

"Alright," Mo Hua bobs his head vigorously, "Mom, is supper set? I'm famished."

"Indeed, your preferred meals await—dig in!"

Liu Ruhua excels at cuisine, and though the fare is basic without spiritual qualities, it's artfully and tastily done. After the meal

and conversation with his mother, Mo Hua retreats to his chamber for reading.

Post-midnight, Mo Hua dives into his sea of knowledge, drilling array formations on the Dao Stele through the night. Dawn greets him upon waking.

Mo Hua assumes a cross-legged pose, gripping a spirit stone, resuming his daily cultivation routine.

When his eyes flutter open once more, daylight faintly gleams, and warm morning rays filter into the space. Mo Hua yawns and stretches on the bed, about to rise, when resounding steps echo from without.

Mo Hua twists to peek through the door slit, beholding a bloodied, weary man entering the home—it’s Mo Hua's father, Mo Shan.