Chapter Twenty-Five: The Sword Saint

After wandering around the newcomers’ district for a while, Yan Luo gathered some information. For instance, gene points could not be traded. Normally, after the introductory mission, a guide would reveal this information to newcomers, so such basic knowledge was no secret.

One piece of intel was that in the surface world, neither firearms nor melee weapons or armor could be brought into the inner world. Moreover, although weapons and equipment could be picked up in the inner world, unless they passed the system’s appraisal and validation, they could not be brought out. This resulted in a situation where weapons that could be universally used in both the surface world and any inner world were priced quite high.

Dreamspace, unlike the Lord God Space, did not provide direct exchanges for weapons, equipment, bloodlines, or skills. All trades were conducted between World Modulators. The newcomers’ district had a dedicated commercial street, reminiscent of those in online games where players set up stalls to sell items. Many of these stalls were unattended; the price was set, and if you paid, you could take the item, with the bio-energy deducted by Dreamspace.

Yan Luo stood before one such stall. On a white cloth lay only two weapons: a steel dagger with a gleaming, razor-sharp blade, and an obsidian macuahuitl—a curved blade with a wooden handle, exuding a distinctly indigenous American aesthetic. In ancient America, the Aztecs, who did not know ironworking, fought with such obsidian blades, and this one was named “Macuahuitl.”

He reached out and placed his hand on the steel dagger. Instantly, his phone app displayed the dagger’s stats—length, width, thickness, weight... The description revealed it was an enchanted dagger, imbued with an “armor-piercing” magical effect.

This dagger could even pierce through Milanese plate armor from the Middle Ages!

Yan Luo glanced at the price set by the owner: 7,999 bio-energy points.

That was nearly 8,000 points for a short weapon—a dagger! Even if it could pierce armor, it seemed excessive. Unless it had enchantments like indestructibility or immunity to wear, cold weapons had a finite lifespan. How long would a carbon steel dagger last? When clashing against other weapons, daggers wore down quickly.

Of course, the armor-piercing effect was quite useful, particularly against martial arts worlds where heroes trained in external skills like “Iron Shirt” or “Golden Bell Cover.” So the price wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

As for the obsidian macuahuitl, had Yan Luo still possessed emotions, he would have been astonished. The description stated it had once been used in human sacrifices by the Aztec tribe, infused with resentment and baleful energy, and could slay ghosts—a weapon capable of cutting down spirits in supernatural plots!

Price: 14,444 bio-energy points!

For a level 1 newcomer, the basic reward for a mainline mission was just 1,000 bio-energy points and one gene point.

With a price tag in excess of ten thousand, the two weapons at this stall could be considered “premium goods” in the newcomers’ district. But such prices also revealed how rare it was to obtain a weapon applicable in any world; they were not something one could easily amass.

“Is that Yan Luo? Brother Yan!” a voice suddenly called out.

Because World Modulators could enter Dreamspace at any time rather than only at set intervals, the flow of people was spread out. On this market street, there were only a few dozen people—some Asian, some white, some black.

The voice was in Mandarin. Yan Luo turned and saw a chubby, round-faced fellow and a man in his twenties or thirties—it was the shut-in Zhu Xiaoyong, and the loser Wang Dongwei.

Though Zhu Xiaoyong was older than Yan Luo, in Dreamspace, strength was supreme.

“You...” Wang Dongwei looked Yan Luo up and down in surprise. In just over a dozen hours, Yan Luo had changed noticeably; his skin was now fair with a lustrous, jade-like glow, and his aura was clean and gentle, making him quite pleasing to the eye.

“You must’ve killed the boss and gotten some hidden reward...” Everyone had their secrets, so Wang didn’t pry. He walked over with Zhu Xiaoyong.

“I went home, slept, and after waking up, Zhu Xiaoyong called, asking for advice on bloodlines or skills, and I was just about to shop for weapons myself... Who’d have thought we’d run into you here? Fate, I suppose.” Wang Dongwei grinned.

Zhu Xiaoyong’s gaze lingered on Yan Luo’s head—his round headpiece seemed straight out of an anime.

“Did you manage to buy a bloodline?” Yan Luo asked.

“Of course not.” Zhu Xiaoyong smiled bitterly, his chubby cheeks puffed up like four-meat dumplings.

“Forget bloodlines—even skills are unaffordable. We saw an Arcane Missile, the lowest-grade skill, whose power was barely stronger than throwing a rock. The seller wanted at least five thousand... daylight robbery.”

“We can only buy weapons, but even firearms are out of reach. I’ve spent over half an hour here—someone was selling an automatic pistol that could be taken into any inner world. Not even unlimited ammo—just twenty shots, and he wanted over twenty thousand! Madness.”

“An automatic pistol can be a deadly weapon in many low-level worlds,” Yan Luo replied.

Originally, he’d intended to buy a weapon that could harm spirits, but now it seemed he’d have to settle for an unenchanted, ordinary weapon. Fortunately, such weapons were reasonably priced, and there were some fine cold weapons to be found.

“This is what I bought,” Wang Dongwei said, drawing a sword from his waist.

A wooden scabbard, cord-wrapped handle, and a blade that was long and narrow with an obvious bevel—the blade’s cold gleam was as clear as water.

“A Han sword?” Yan Luo recognized the style.

“Yes, a Han sword—an eight-sided Han sword!” Wang Dongwei’s face lit up with genuine pleasure. “A person should stand upright, and so should a sword. The Han sword is straight, its blade formed by dual arcs; in its scabbard it’s simple and unadorned, but drawn, it reveals its brilliance. It represents the virtues of gentleness, courtesy, and integrity—the perfect union of outward softness and inner strength! The moment I saw it, I knew it was for me. It was priced at 1,800—I bargained it to an even 1,000. In the movie ‘Fatal Move’, Wu Jing used such a sword to cut down gangsters.”

Yan Luo nodded, remaining silent.

Just then, someone in the distance caught his eye.

It was an elderly man dressed in coarse cloth, with snowy white hair and a long beard that gave him a sense of history and gravitas, reminiscent of Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings. The old man was spreading a cloth on the ground, then taking weapons one by one from his storage space and arranging them.

Noticing Yan Luo’s interest, Wang Dongwei and Zhu Xiaoyong turned to look—and were startled.

In Dreamspace, levels and titles were visible to all. For example, the “Zombie Hunter” above Yan Luo’s head would appear in the local language to foreigners. This old man was level 3, just like the guide Mu Bai.

And the title above his head read:

Sword Saint.

A level 3 World Modulator with the title of Sword Saint? It seemed incongruous—shouldn’t such an awe-inspiring title belong to a veteran, or someone at least level 7 and above? But on second thought, Sword Saints from martial arts worlds, like Feng Qingyang, would be limited by the nature of their worlds; across the multiverse, their combat strength might not amount to much.

No matter how formidable Feng Qingyang was, he couldn’t possibly match up to Grom Hellscream from Warcraft.

It was the limitation of world tiers.

Even if both bore the title of Sword Saint.

Sword Saint—perhaps more a state of being, a title gained under certain circumstances.

Nevertheless, it was impressive enough. Seeing the old man’s stall with more than a dozen cold weapons laid out, and watching him pull out a small stool to sit down as a few others gathered nearby, Yan Luo, Wang Dongwei, and Zhu Xiaoyong all went over to take a look.