Chapter 1104 — Men Who Buy Nothing

CHAPTER 1104

Men Who Buy Nothing

“Men who buy nothing,” the manager said, keeping his voice low. “That’s what we’ve been calling them on this street.”

Shi Feng set down his cup and listened. The manager’s nervous glance toward the street warned him this wasn’t ordinary shop gossip.

“They started coming nine days ago,” the manager said. “Two at a time. Fur coats, hunters’ boots, but their hands have never skinned anything. They come into every herb house in Pinefall. They look at every shelf. They don’t buy a single root.” He glanced at the door. “And every time, they ask the same thing. Has a young alchemist come through? A young alchemist with a bad arm.”

Shi Feng’s left arm was strapped across his chest under his robe. He didn’t look down at it.

“What did you tell them?” Shi Feng asked.

“That young alchemists don’t come to Pinefall,” the manager said. “And that the ones who do have two good arms, or they don’t last the winter.” He hesitated. “That was before this morning. This morning you walked in with Her Highness’s token.”

“Will they ask again?” Shi Feng asked.

“They ask every day,” the manager said unhappily. “A tall tree catches the wind, honoured guest. Forgive this house for saying it.”

Shi Feng nodded and set a spirit stone on the counter for the warning. The manager looked at it, bowed and went back to his weighing.

The herb house had two small rooms above the shop for travelling buyers. Shi Feng took them both. At dusk Qin Wuyan came in from the roof with frost on his sleeves and shut the shutters behind him.

“This one reports,” Qin Wuyan said. “There’s a Profound Heaven presence in the void above this town.”

Shi Feng’s expression changed.

“How long?” Shi Feng asked.

“Since dawn,” Qin Wuyan said. “It hasn’t moved. It isn’t hiding, either.” He paused. “It wants this one to know it’s there.”

“The Sixth Elder?” Shi Feng asked.

“No,” Qin Wuyan said. “Weaker. Early Profound Heaven. But it’s above the town, and this one is below it.”

That was plain enough. Qin Wuyan was early Profound Heaven too, with one arm. If he went to fight the presence in the void, nobody would be left beside the alchemist. If he stayed beside the alchemist, the presence could do whatever it liked. Either way, the man in the void had already tied him down without moving a finger.

Lin came in last, stamping snow off his boots, with a sack of sweet potatoes over his shoulder and a pot of tea he’d charmed out of the innkeeper across the street.

“Good news,” Lin Langtian said. “Sweet potatoes are cheap here. The bad news is everything else.” He set down the sack. “There are two men across the street who’ve been not buying anything for an hour.”

Nobody laughed.

Lin sat down at the little table. He took a teacup off the tray and held it up level in front of his face to test his hand. The cup rattled against its saucer. He held it there anyway, watching it rattle, for five breaths.

Then he put it down.

“Junior Brother,” Lin Langtian said, without any joke in it. “I’ll be honest once, so remember it. I couldn’t lift the hammer today if the sky fell.”

Shi Feng was worried. He’d seen the weakness in Lin Langtian’s hands, but hearing him admit it made the danger clear.

“Then don’t try,” Shi Feng said firmly. “We’ll find another way. I won’t have you ruin yourself here.”

He laid it out for them. If they left Pinefall tonight, the men who bought nothing would follow them to the mountains, and the presence in the void would follow the men. The valley’s door would hold against an army, but only if nobody saw where it was. If they stayed, they stayed in a town full of hunters and herb-gatherers with a Profound Heaven cultivator overhead.

“The herbs are sealed at noon,” Shi Feng said. “We leave at noon, on the main road, in daylight, with the market full. Nobody will start anything in a crowded market under a magistrate’s nose. Senior Qin watches the sky. Senior Brother watches the street. I watch the herbs.”

“And if they start something anyway?” Lin Langtian asked.

“Then we’ll know they’re not just bandits,” Shi Feng said.

Lin Langtian studied him, relieved that Shi Feng hadn’t asked for the hammer. Then he forced a grin.

“Junior Brother’s getting cunning,” Lin Langtian said. “Senior Brother is so proud he could weep.”

Nobody slept much. Qin Wuyan spent the night on the roof facing the sky. Lin sat by the shutters with the lamp out. Shi Feng lay on the narrow bed with the grey Sword in his good hand and counted his qi. Half of a sea, give or take. It would have to do.

The morning came cold and bright. The market filled early, the way it did every fifth day: furs, roots, salt, dried fish, a man selling hot millet cakes from a basket. The manager came up the stairs a little before noon, smiling for the first time.

“Sealed,” the manager said. “Every box. And there’s tea for the road, honoured guest, the good kind. Please, sit, this house insists.”

He set out four cups and lifted the pot.

Before he could pour, Lin Langtian stood up from the window.

“Junior Brother,” Lin Langtian said.

Shi Feng was already looking. Over the roofs of Pinefall, black smoke was rising from the market square, and the screaming had begun.