Jiang looked down at the pile of supplies on the counter and wished he wasn't quite so socially incompetent.

He'd intended to mention his financial status straight away, but Old Lao had already been asking him what he needed, and he'd just started listing things off. Then, he'd intended to let the shopkeeper know after having selected a couple of items, sort of like a 'Oh, this is getting more expensive than I thought; I don't suppose you have any work you need doing in trade'.

Perfectly acceptable and normal.

Unfortunately, he'd somehow managed to forget just how awkward he felt interrupting people, and Old Lao had kept up a steady stream of chatter while fetching his items. Now, Jiang was in the very uncomfortable situation of having a pile of supplies worth at least a couple of silver in front of him, and the knowledge that he didn't have so much as two copper coins to rub together.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Jiang seized upon the only distraction available. "Actually—before we settle up, could you take a look at something for me?"

Old Lao glanced up from arranging the items on the counter, curiosity clear on his face. "Certainly, young sir. What is it?"

Jiang unslung his pack—really just a battered satchel tied with fraying rope—and dug out his broken bow. The satchel was barely large enough to hold a waterskin and a couple days' worth of dried meat; he hadn't exactly planned to be outfitting himself for a long journey when he'd first packed it. He placed the two broken parts of the bow gently onto the counter, wincing slightly as Old Lao leaned forward to examine it.

"Hmm," the shopkeeper murmured, running his thumb along the splintered edges of one of the limbs. "Oh, dear. Quite the break, isn't it?"

"It... happened unexpectedly," Jiang replied, the understatement painfully obvious even to his ears. "Can it be repaired, do you think?"

Old Lao lifted the bow gently, turning it over to inspect the damage from every angle – but he was already shaking his head regretfully. "I'm afraid not. Even if it were only cracked, a skilled bowyer would have trouble patching it. At best, you'd get a weapon half as strong and twice as liable to break again. Damage this extensive… well, there's nothing to be done with it."

Jiang exhaled slowly, disappointment settling heavily in his chest. He wasn't surprised – one didn't have to be a bowyer to realise something snapped in half wasn't going to be a simple repair job, but he'd wanted to make an effort anyway. The bow had been his one reliable companion on hunts, to say nothing of how it had belonged to his father; losing it felt oddly symbolic, like severing the final tie to his old life.

Old Lao placed the broken pieces of the bow down carefully, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. His eyes flickered from the bow to Jiang, recognition slowly dawning.

"Ah," he murmured softly, a new respect entering his tone. "I see now. Apologies, young cultivator—I hadn't realised who I was speaking to."

Jiang blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard. "What do you—how did you know?"

The older man smiled knowingly, gesturing politely toward the bow. "Your clothes blend in quite well, I will admit, but damage like this is… well, rare to say the least. The only ways I could see this happening would be if a mortal were to attempt to block a blow from a cultivator – in which case they wouldn't have survived to try and get it repaired – or if a cultivator themselves tried to use a mortal's bow." Lao hesitated for a moment. "If it's not too impertinent for me to ask… would I be correct in assuming you hadn't used the bow since you were a mortal yourself?"

Jiang nodded absently, looking down at the remains on the counter.

"Then you have my condolences if this is a treasured heirloom," the man ventured, "but I'm afraid there is little I can do. I have heard rumours of rare treasures that can bond with a weapon and awaken its spirit, which might be able to repair it, but even then I couldn't be certain, and such treasures would be expensive enough to beggar a city magistrate."

"That's… that's fine," Jiang said after a moment, clearing his throat roughly. "It was a good bow, but not worth something like that."

The shopkeeper nodded quietly and stepped back slightly. Jiang was grateful that the man allowed him a moment, not to mention impressed at his perceptiveness, but forced himself to refocus. Asking if the man had any work for him would be even more humiliating now, but there was nothing he could do to put the matter off any longer.

"Right then," he said, only a little roughly. "How much was it for the rest of the supplies?"

"Will the Young Master be paying with coins or contribution points?" Lao asked seamlessly.

Jiang blinked. "…Contribution points?"

That was an option?

"Certainly!" Lao said brightly. "I have an agreement with the Azure Sky Sect. Disciples often stop here for provisions, and the Sect allows purchases using your contribution points. I can then use them to trade for certain materials from the Sect itself, which I transport across the province and resell."

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Jiang reevaluated the shop. If the man was shipping goods across the province, then clearly, he was more than just a small-town shopkeeper. It did explain why the man had everything he'd needed, and why the supplies were of relatively high quality. In truth, Jiang had half expected to have to pick up bits and pieces from various other towns as he passed through. It was the only reason his idea of doing some odd jobs in trade instead of paying in coin was viable in the first place – most shopkeepers wouldn't mind parting with a single item in exchange for service, as long as said item wasn't too valuable, of course.

"Convenient," he said, forcing his voice into casualness even as relief flooded through him. He dug into his satchel again, pulling out the small wooden token. It felt warm in his fingers, the faint inscription glowing briefly at his touch. He'd actually forgotten he still had it with him, so this encounter was fortunate in more ways than one. For all he knew, the Sect would be able to use the token to track him, so it was probably worth tossing the thing into the woods once he left town.

"Indeed it is, young sir. You'll find the exchange rate quite favourable, I assure you. Aside from standard provisions, we also occasionally stock some rarer items—trinkets and materials disciples pick up on their travels that you may find useful on your own journey. Feel free to browse a bit more if you like."

"I'll... have a look," Jiang agreed cautiously. "But first, how many points for everything so far?"

Old Lao made a quick tally in his head, nodding firmly. "Two hundred twenty-five points for all the basics. Shall I package it all up for you?"

"Yes, please," Jiang replied, barely hiding his relief as Old Lao busied himself arranging the supplies. That was… far better than he'd hoped for, especially considering he'd managed to accumulate almost six hundred points over his time at the Sect. Not having to pay for healing after every duel after he'd improved enough to win a couple certainly helped.

Clearly, his uncharitable thoughts about how the Sect was using the contribution point system to avoid giving the disciples any actual money in order to keep them contained to the Sect were incorrect.

"How much would this have cost in coins?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Old Lao thought for a second. "Two silver?" Roughly speaking, of course.

Jiang tried to avoid reacting too obviously. Two silver was… more money than he'd ever seen in his life. It was also more money than the supplies themselves would be worth, strictly speaking – they were high quality, certainly, but not high enough quality to justify that kind of price tag.

Jiang looked at the supplies again. That being said… well, he was more used to how smaller villages did things. When he needed something, he would usually trade something other than coins – a deer, or a brace of rabbits or something. He also wasn't totally oblivious to the fact that their neighbours were generous when it came to trades like that, especially just after his father had died. He'd made sure to pay them all back over time, of course, but even then…

Well, it was hard to rip people off when you had to live right next to them. Even this town, small as it was, probably had a thousand people living in it, while his village only had a couple of hundred. That wasn't even taking into account the various travellers that would be passing through – nobody cared about making some extra coin off someone you were never going to see again.

On the one hand, it meant that he was luckier than he'd thought, being able to use contribution points in place of hard currency. On the other hand, it would be far more difficult than he thought going forward to resupply in other towns or villages. It would take far more than a few odd jobs for people to earn enough to pay these kinds of prices.

Jiang thought for a moment. It also meant that he should definitely make the absolute most of this opportunity – if he was going to be tossing the contribution token out anyway, there was no point in leaving any points on it.

"You know, maybe I will have a look around," he said to Old Lao. "Just to make sure I haven't missed anything."

A knowing smile spread across Old Lao's face. "Why, Young Master, I think that's an excellent idea."

— — —

Convincing a merchant to sell him more things was one of the easier things Jiang had ever done in his life. In hindsight, he may have gone a little overboard – but then, he'd never been rich before either. Even if it was only technically rich.

Needless to say, he was well-equipped for his journey.

His new travel pack rested comfortably on his shoulders, and the cloak Old Lao had convinced him to buy was warm enough that he was reasonably certain he'd been perfectly fine in a blizzard. Considering how much it cost, he'd better.

Equally new was the weight on his hip – the unfamiliar weight of a simple straight sword. He'd originally asked for a bow, but the shopkeeper had informed him that any bow powerful enough to be useful to a cultivator was far out of his price range – and even if Jiang had the money, it wasn't the kind of thing Lao kept in stock. Instead, the old man had directed him to the sword, apparently called a Jian. Jiang wondered briefly about the origins of his own name before dismissing the thought as pointless. Simple mortal-grade steel the weapon may be, but it would hold up to a cultivator's strength far better than wood.

Jiang… wasn't sure how he felt about it. Li Xuan had taught him a little about wielding a sword – as much as smacking it repeatedly out of his hands could be called teaching – but that didn't mean he was comfortable with its use. Still, anything was better than nothing, and if nothing else it would make him look more prepared, which would hopefully help to draw attention away from his youthful features.

By the time Jiang left the shop, the sun was already past its peak, drawing long shadows across the snow-packed streets. It was generally considered a bad time to start a journey – better to start in the morning and have a full day's travel – but impatience was prickling under his skin, and as a cultivator he could set a quick enough pace to make use of the remaining hours of light.

He barely even noticed the concerned look the guards gave him, and considering they didn't try to bar his path, he didn't particularly care what they thought. The moment Jiang stepped beyond the gates, he felt a rush of excitement. Out there, beyond the rough timber walls, beyond the warmth and comfort of civilisation, lay his path toward answers – towards his family.

Somewhere, weeks to the north, lay the lead he'd gotten on the Hollow Fangs, a fragile whisper of a rumour that might lead him to Gao Leng and his stolen family. Old Lao had been kind enough – or pleased enough by the big spender – to throw in a map with the major roads marked. It would take him as far as Qinghe, a large port city fairly close to where the lead had come from. From there, he would have to hunt them down the old-fashioned way.

He settled his new cloak tighter around his shoulders, adjusted the weight of his pack, and set off into the gathering afternoon gloom.

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