Urban Ascent

Chapter 6: Meeting the Unexpected

The midday sun was high, casting harsh shadows across the flea market. The gentle hum of people moving between stalls filled the air, though the heat made it hard to enjoy. October in the valley was supposed to be cooler, but record highs were still clinging to life, and I could already feel the sweat prickling beneath my shirt. It probably didn't help that I'd been continuously activating that subtle charm throughout the day, pushing my mana outward, trying to sway the minds of anyone who passed by—it was getting exhausting.

I couldn't help but want to sell that last picture frame before I left. I had already made $337 today, but call it a sense of completionism—like trying to find the last hidden trophy in a game so I could finally earn the platinum full-clear award. The handful of keychains I had left were another matter altogether. They were just bits of plastic I'd printed ages ago, but this tablet was my last "big-ticket item," and I had subconsciously set selling them all today as my goal.

Suddenly, I noticed an old man walking toward my stall—a small figure, hunched slightly with age, wearing an unassuming beige shirt with khakis. It was the kind of outfit so plain that it actually drew your eye to it. I focused, gathering my energy, trying to charm him just as I had with all the others who passed by.

But he kept walking, seemingly unfazed by my efforts. Perhaps subconsciously, since my first customer was an older woman, I wanted to end the day by selling this last tablet to this old man. It resonated with me, falling in line with my ever-growing fixation on the cyclical nature of the world. Or maybe I was just hot, tired, and ready to get out of this heat since I hadn't been smart enough to bring any kind of shade with me.

I furrowed my brow in concentration, pushing more mana into my aura. This time I imagined my charm settling over him like a gentle cloud, inviting and warm. The old man slowed as he neared my stall, but he didn't glance at the keychains or the tablet—he stared straight into my eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement, and then he smiled—a gentle, knowing smile.

"You're about ten years too early to be trying that half-assed charm magic on me, kid," he said, his voice soft but carrying a weight that echoed in the space between us.

I blinked, the shock evident on my face. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what he'd just said. How did he know? Is he also a...?

The old man chuckled, clearly enjoying my bewilderment. "You must be completely new to this, huh? A self-cultivator, if I had to guess," he continued, his tone not mocking but almost... fatherly. "You didn't think you were the only one out there, did you?"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Of course, I wouldn't be the only one out there—how could I have been so stupid? With as many stories as there are online, and even before that, all the ancient Chinese literature these stories were based on—of course someone else had tried this before me. If cultivation is real, people must have been doing this for hundreds of years now, maybe thousands. What's that old saying again? There's no smoke without fire. So, of course, if there are stories, there has to be at least a kernel of truth to them.

The old man stepped closer, taking a seat on the folding chair I had brought with me, as if he belonged there. He gestured to the assortment of items spread out on the table. "Not a bad way to practice, I suppose," he mused, "but you've got a long way to go."

His gaze shifted back to me, piercing but not unkind. "Let me guess—you somehow discovered the practice of cultivation, and even though you initially wrote it off, curiosity got the better of you. You actually sat down and tried to meditate, only to discover it was real. After some minor success in circulating this energy, you decided to see what you could do with it?" He didn't wait for me to confirm. "Happens to all of us sooner or later, but don't get too ahead of yourself. Charm magic—or any kind of external technique—requires a foundation. You're leaking qi like a sieve. That'll burn you out faster than you realize."