Walker Of The Worlds - Chapter 3386
Chapter 3386: A Dwarven Sword
Lin Mu and the three beasts continued wandering deeper into the sprawling market district. What had begun as neatly arranged rows of shops, polished storefronts, and tidy merchant squares gradually transformed into something far more chaotic.
The air thickened with smells from unknown cuisines, pungent herbs, and spices so strong they made even Little Shrubby sneeze.
Haphazard tents leaned against each other like drunken cultivators. Vendors sat cross legged on carpets, selling strange items that looked half stolen, half scavenged. A few hawkers waved half finished talismans in the air, claiming they were ancient techniques lost for ten thousand years.
Lin Mu immediately recognized the territory.
This was the unregulated district, also known as the wandering cultivator market.
The place where things of questionable origin and even more questionable quality were freely traded.
But also the place where brilliant treasures sometimes showed up, mixed in with junk, because not every cultivator understood what they had in their hands.
The twins, of course, loved it.
They popped out of Lin Mu’s sleeves like excited ferrets. Their little heads darted left and right.
“So many shinies,” whispered the left twin.
“So many scams,” whispered the right twin.
Little Shrubby wrinkled his nose. “They do not have good ingredients here. Everything smells old or dusty.”
Lin Mu nodded. “That is normal. This part of the market is unpredictable. But sometimes you can find true gems among the trash.”
The twins took that as permission to go wild.
Within minutes, they had acquired seven different shiny stones, four bits of colored glass they believed were rare gemstones, and a small bell that jingled in a way that made Little Shrubby flatten his ears.
Lin Mu paid for their trinkets without complaint. It cost him barely anything, and the twins looked happy enough to wag their little tails.
They continued wandering.
The chaos only grew thicker. Some cultivators were loudly arguing over the authenticity of a “Heaven Shattering Finger Technique” which Lin Mu could tell was actually a mortal grade manual dipped in tea to make it look old. Another stall claimed to sell bones of ancient dragons, but Lin Mu sensed they were just bones of overgrown spirit chickens.
All very typical.
Little Shrubby sniffed the air again. “Nothing tasty.”
Lin Mu patted his head. “We will get proper food later.”
Then, as they neared the end of the street, Lin Mu casually glanced toward a small stall. It hardly even qualified as a stall. Someone had simply spread a faded cloth on the dusty ground and arranged a few random things on top of it.
Lin Mu almost walked past it.
Almost.
Because right as he turned, the sword heart inside him pulsed.
The faintest quiver of recognition.
He stopped mid step.
The twins bumped into his side.
The merchant sitting behind the spread cloth, a thin man with uncombed hair and a lazy expression, looked up with mild interest. His eyes brightened the moment he saw Lin Mu pause.
There were odds and ends scattered across the cloth.
A cracked porcelain brush. Earrings that had probably belonged to mortal women. A chipped amulet that held no Qi. Two bottles of common healing pills. A couple of manuals so obviously fake that even Meng Bai would see through them. A bent spear shaft missing the spearhead.
And among these worthless pieces sat a very plain looking sword.
A simple iron hued blade with a modest crossguard and a modest hilt. It was the kind of weapon that would be given to new sect disciples as a first training tool.
Not flashy. Not powerful. Not even eye catching.
Yet Lin Mu felt his pulse quicken slightly.
He bent down and picked it up.
The merchant immediately straightened his posture and clasped his hands like a professional trader who had smelled profit.
“Honored customer has great eyes,” he said eagerly. “That sword may appear simple, but it is far from ordinary. Forged by true Dwarven hands.”
Lin Mu raised one brow. “Dwarven forged?”
The merchant nodded rapidly. “Indeed. One of my best items. I came across it in a distant world market, truly far from here. I intended to keep it for myself, but alas, desperate times, desperate measures. Selling it breaks my heart.”
Lin Mu’s sword heart pulsed again.
The man was lying.
Through his teeth. Through his pores. Through his soul.
But Lin Mu did not care.
He turned the blade over slowly and observed a tiny, nearly invisible symbol engraved near the base of the guard. It was not a common smith mark. It was not a sect crest. It was something subtle. An emblem only Dwarves would place on plain swords used for specific internal purposes.
But hidden under the handle of the sword, at the Tang of the blade there was another mark that Lin Mu noticed.
The sword itself was weak, barely a low grade immortal weapon.
Its forging quality was acceptable but certainly not advanced.
Yet the symbol was genuine.
This was a Dwarven initiation blade. One made only by Mountain Dwarves and only within their communities as the first standard sword a young dwarf would first forge.
Why was it here?
Who brought it here?
He quietly suppressed the flood of questions and kept his expression neutral.
“How much?” Lin Mu asked calmly.
The merchant’s eyes gleamed with greed. “Since it is Dwarven made, ten thousand high grade immortal stones.”
Lin Mu let out a short laugh. “This is barely low grade. I could buy hundred like this for that price. You think I cannot tell what level a sword is?”
The merchant changed expressions so fast he could have been a chameleon. “Customer, no no, you misunderstand, allow me to adjust the price. A thousand mid grade immortal stones. A bargain. A true bargain.”
Lin Mu responded by flaring a sliver of his Sword Intent.
The entire street seemed to freeze. A ripple of sharp air passed over the cloth stall. Dust lifted. A faint metallic hum echoed from the sword in Lin Mu’s hand.