Chapter 187 — The Price of Choosing

CHAPTER 187

The Price of Choosing

The message arrived in an ordinary envelope.

Kang Liu brought it upstairs with Shi Feng's final room account. The paper bore no official order. A narrow strip inside carried the name of Martial Palace's elder Wei Chengyuan.

“The courier wants an answer,” Kang Liu said.

“Where is he?” Shi Feng asked.

“By the front door,” Kang Liu said. “He wouldn't buy tea.”

Shi Feng checked the account first. The extra kettle had been included, and the last night's charge matched what they agreed. He paid, put away the receipt and went downstairs with the unopened envelope.

The Martial Palace courier Liu Cheng stood beside the inn's entrance. His Bone Refinement aura was ordinary, but the Martial Palace badge on his chest had been polished until the edges shone. He straightened when Shi Feng appeared.

“Elder Wei Chengyuan asked that you read this before departing,” Liu Cheng said.

Shi Feng opened it.

The words were brief. Martial Palace had offered proper resources and proper protection. Artificer Hall could not promise the same. A young man who chose to stand outside the Palace's door should remember that the Wei family's grievances would remain outside with him.

No signature confessed to an unlawful act. No date named a coming attack. The warning was meant to be understood without becoming useful evidence of anything more precise.

Shi Feng read it once.

The courier watched his face. The courier had probably expected anger, an anxious question or an attempt to soften yesterday's refusal. He found none of them.

“Tell Wei Chengyuan I chose Artificer Hall, and any lawful complaint can go to the proper office,” Shi Feng said.

He folded the message and put it inside his everyday bag.

The courier waited. Shi Feng stepped around him and walked toward the materials street. After two breaths, the courier understood that the answer was finished.

He left without buying tea.

Kang Liu looked after both men, then picked up the envelope Shi Feng had left on the counter. Ordinary paper. Nothing about it explained why a powerful sect couldn't simply accept a young man's choice.

The innkeeper dropped it among the waste wrappers and went back to his cups.

The materials street was quieter now that the tournament had ended.

Several stallholders were taking down signs that promised special prices for candidates. One turned his board over and discovered he'd painted an even better promise on the other side last year.

Shi Feng stopped at a shop selling travelling cases.

Huang Bin placed two on the counter. The first had a carved lid and bright brass corners. The second was plain wood, with a dry lining and a clasp that didn't wobble.

“For a sword?” Huang Bin asked.

“Pieces of one,” Shi Feng said.

He unwrapped the broken refined artifact carefully. Huang Bin's eyes widened when he saw the channel running along the steel. Then recognition reached him.

“The final,” Huang Bin said.

Shi Feng nodded.

The shopkeeper touched neither piece. He measured them with a strip of cord and took a shorter case from beneath the counter. Both halves fitted without the broken edges pressing against each other.

“This one,” Huang Bin said. “Keep the padding between them.”

Shi Feng checked the clasp and paid the ordinary price. No discount for fame, no charge for a famous sword's history. He appreciated the straightforward work.

Outside, he put the closed case into the ring. The weapon had failed in the final. His injured arm had healed after the fight, but the broken steel still needed replacing. He would find a better blade after seeing what Artificer Hall could actually supply. Until then, he had a sound knife and more strength than the road's ordinary dangers required.

He wasn't going to buy the next sword because somebody praised its handle.

A delivery cart passed carrying dismantled benches from the arena. Two men argued over which end went into storage first. Shi Feng stepped aside and watched a boy run after the last fallen cushion.

The gathering that had filled Qingyun City was becoming furniture again.

Tomorrow he would leave it behind.

He Zhen found him near the reporting office before noon.

The elder carried three sealed recruit packets beneath his arm. One was thicker than the others, with a list of materials folded around it.

“Your room token will be issued at the sect,” He Zhen said. “This confirms the entry offer. Keep it with your identification.”

Shi Feng checked his name and the inner-disciple terms before accepting it.

He Zhen didn't look offended that he read the document. He stood in the shade and waited until Shi Feng finished.

“Something wrong?” He Zhen asked.

“No,” Shi Feng said.

“Then the eastern landing,” He Zhen said. “After the morning bell. Bring what you need, not what a servant thinks makes you important.”

“I don't have a servant,” Shi Feng said.

“That saves time,” He Zhen said.

The answer made Shi Feng smile. He Zhen had a tired look suggesting that somebody else's luggage had already cost him an argument.

The elder noticed the narrow message strip sticking from Shi Feng's bag.

“Martial Palace?” He Zhen asked.

Shi Feng handed him the paper. He Zhen read it without making a show of anger. His fingers tightened only when he reached the last sentence.

“The recruitment decision is recorded,” He Zhen said. “A private warning doesn't change it.”

Shi Feng took the message back.

He Zhen didn't promise that every elder on his mountain would be brave or fair. He didn't claim a poor sect could make every stronger rival disappear. The useful fact was simpler: the offer remained in place, and they would travel as arranged.

That was enough for today.

“Keep the paper,” He Zhen said.

Shi Feng put it with the Wei hearing receipt. He had kept accounts when nobody believed him. A champion's plate didn't make written evidence less useful.

They parted at the office steps. He Zhen went to settle the vessel's departure permit. Shi Feng returned to the inn to finish packing.

His room looked bare once the tools and medicine bottles were stored.

The everyday bag held identification, a little money and the things he might need without opening the ring. He checked each once, then placed it beside his folded cloak.

The violet purse string remained tied where it had been. He checked the medicine cases' lids, then stored them beside the broken sword's wooden box inside the ring.

Shi Feng opened the window. Below, a cart driver asked Kang Liu whether a departing guest had forgotten a bowl. Kang Liu examined it, recognised his own kitchen mark and took it back with injured dignity.

Shi Feng laughed quietly.

Wei Chengyuan had sent a warning. The road still belonged to the person walking it. Shi Feng closed the window and lay down to rest before choosing his next steps himself.