Wang Lin, his face betraying nothing, inquired, “What sum do you require?”

Wang Hao hesitated, shuffling his feet. “No less than two hundred spirit stones, good brother!”

“Two hundred!” Wang Lin’s brow furrowed, though he possessed the means. The past months had seen him acquire nearly five hundred in discreet offerings. “Whatever for?”

Wang Hao sighed, his face etched with worry. “Brother Tiezhu, the Inner Sect trials draw near, two moons hence. I qualify to participate, yes, but lack the strength to truly contend. I am loath to surrender my chance. That whelp, Zhuo, already stands at the precipice of Qi Condensation’s second stage. Whispers say he strives to break through even now.”

“So swift?” Wang Lin had not seen Wang Zhuo in some time, and was taken aback. Truly, talent was a force to behold.

Indignation flared in Wang Hao’s eyes. “Does he not have the backing of a doting master? That curmudgeon spared no expense, wheedling a pot of Fortune Pills from your own master! A rare and potent tonic of the sect, they grant a sickeningly unfair burst of progress.”

Wang Lin nodded, then frowned. “What does this have to do with borrowing an Immortal Talisman?”

“Everything, good brother! You keep to yourself, Tiezhu, so you are perhaps unaware. In the moon leading up to the trials, the Inner Disciples host a clandestine gathering, a small marketplace, if you will. There they display their treasures, bartering and trading to sharpen their edge for the competition. Old-timers who have weathered many such trials speak of flying swords, mystic implements, elixirs of power…” Wang Hao’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes gleaming with avarice.

A spark ignited within Wang Lin. Flying swords and magic weapons held little allure, but the knowledge, the very mantra behind the Qi Condensation stage, captivated him. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could find it there. He paused, considering. “With so few Inner Disciples, can such trading be truly sincere?”

Wang Hao chuckled, a nervous sound. “Ah, Brother Tiezhu, you strike at the heart of it! This market is not freely open. One must possess a Transforming Voice Pill, which masks one’s true voice, and renders their secrets impervious, save to those of Foundation Establishment and beyond.”

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. “You seek an Immortal Talisman to acquire this… pill?”

Wang Hao blinked, then nodded rapidly. “Brother Tiezhu, you possess keen insight! Indeed! My master controls the supply of this particular elixir. Every year, at this very time, he peddles them on the quiet, for the princely sum of two hundred Immortal Talismans apiece!”

Wang Lin pondered, a slow smile spreading across his face. “This… market… does indeed sound interesting. I think I shall take a look.”

Wang Hao was instantly animated. “Splendid! With elixirs in hand, one gains admittance. I strive to acquire one of those Fortune Pills. I have heard whispered that one of the Inner Disciples plans to sell his own at the market!”

With a flick of his wrist, Wang Lin conjured four hundred Immortal Talismans from his storage bag. Neatly bound in bundles of one hundred, they radiated a soft, inner light.

Wang Hao’s eyes widened with unrestrained joy. He snatched the bundle, stowing it within his own bag. “Brother Tiezhu, this is a blessing! A fortnight remains until the gathering. I shall seek you out then, and we shall attend together!”

Wang Lin nodded, exchanging a few more words before Wang Hao bid him farewell.

Alone once more, Wang Lin’s thoughts raced. This market held immense importance. If the secrets to the next stage of Qi Condensation lay within, he would seize them, whatever the cost.

Yet, he possessed naught of true value to trade, and all his spirit stones were now earmarked for the pill. After a lengthy deliberation, he decided to produce spiritual spring water. Surely such a commodity would prove enticing. And with the disguising elixir, no one would detect its true origins.

His mind made up, Wang Lin banished the matter from his thoughts. The hour for dream practice had not yet arrived. Instead, he focused on honing his gravitational arts within the meager confines of the estate’s service quarters.

Countless hours spent practicing in his dream space had honed his skill to a keen edge. He could now manipulate his gourd with near-perfect precision. In his day-to-day existence, he could control small objects from a distance with little effort.

Yet, larger objects still proved challenging. But as his inner essence grew, especially after reaching the second stage of Qi Condensation, the true potential of his art began to unfurl.

After practicing against a large stone for several hours, dusk settled, and the heavy snow continued to fall. Wang Lin did not immediately seek solace in his dreams, but stood at the doorway, watching the swirling flakes in thoughtful silence.

During his second stage of practice over the past month, Wang Lin had discovered a troubling trend. The potency of the spring water appeared to be waning. While the decline was subtle, and could be compensated for with increased dosage, it sparked a seed of worry within him.

He feared that, as he ascended through the Qi Condensation stages, the spiritual spring water would eventually lose its effect entirely.

“The liquid imbued with the mysterious bead remains supreme, followed by the dew, and then the spring water. But the collection of dew is slow and insufficient, and winter offers none. The spring water alone remains simple, practical, and ever-flowing. If it should fail me, I must be prepared. I must find a replacement.” Wang Lin murmured, his gaze fixed on the thickening snow, his eyes gleaming.

He moved his hands subtly, invoking his gravitational arts. Large drifts of snow lifted from the ground, coiling like a dragon into a large tank.

In moments, the tank was half full. Wang Lin ceased his incantation, approaching the tank, and forming a hand seal. After several attempts, a fireball the size of a child’s fist materialized, radiating intense heat. The snow within the tank melted with startling speed.

He wiped sweat from his brow. Wielding two distinct incantations in swift succession strained his limited reserves.

When the water was melted, Wang Lin retrieved the mysterious bead and submerged it, waiting a patient ten minutes before removing it.

He had thoroughly studied the bead’s properties. Soaking it in spring water, for instance, yielded maximum benefit in precisely ten minutes. Extended soaks produced no further improvement.

He took a small sip, closing his eyes. He carefully examined the influx of energy into his body. After a moment, he opened his eyes, muttering to himself, “Significantly greater than the spring water, but less potent than the dew. But acceptable… for now!”

He immediately retrieved gourd after gourd from his storage bag, vessels he had painstakingly gathered in the mountains over the past months. He worked through the night, until the snow in the yard was cleared, and half of the gourds were filled with spiritual snow water.