The air grew thicker as they approached.
Not with humidity or heat — but weight.
A heaviness clung to the wind. The kind you feel in your lungs before a fight breaks out. The kind that hangs in a room, when too many cultivators are waiting to draw swords.
Obsidian Root City didn't welcome.
It warned.
Shang Di and Wei Lin stepped over the final hill crest, and there it was — a sprawl of uneven rooftops and jagged towers choked in smoke, firelight, and spirit haze.
The gates were massive — black-stone slabs laced with red ore veins that pulsed faintly. Guard towers jutted from the walls like broken teeth. Beyond them, the city churned with noise.
Shouts. Clangs. The occasional boom of spiritual energy discharging in the distance.
The city was alive — and on edge.
Above the gate was a weather-worn inscription, carved straight into obsidian:
Welcome to Obsidian Root
"Forge Your Path — or Be Forged By It."
...
Two guards in deep gray armor stood at the gate, faces hidden behind plated masks. They didn't look friendly. Or bored. Just tired and alert.
"Identification," one said as they stepped forward.
Wei Lin pulled a copper badge from his pouch. "Mercenary registry. Active. Signed out of South Bough last month."
The guard inspected it, grunted, then turned to Shang Di.
"No sect robe. No badge. What's your business?"
"Trade and rest," Shang Di replied. "Solo cultivator. No affiliation."
The guard's eyes narrowed behind the mask.
"Five silver," he said. "Temporary license. No badge means no standing. You'll need a medallion to buy, sell, or not get stabbed in the back alley."
Shang Di paid.
Another figure stepped forward and pressed a small obsidian medallion into his hand — sharp-edged, heavy, and marked with a jagged rune across the surface.
[Item Acquired: Obsidian Medallion – Outer Ring Access]
Trade Access: Limited
Travel Zones: Market Crescent, Beast Pit, Combat Circles
Warning: Unauthorized access to Core Districts is punishable by confinement, or combat challenge.
No fanfare.
Just metal, rules, and city smoke.
The gates creaked open.
Obsidian Root swallowed them.
...
The city struck like a hammer to the senses.
Heat from open forges blasted through the streets. Smoke trailed from chimneys and pyres. The shouts of vendors, mercenaries, and beast handlers clashed like blades in an arena.
Buildings were layered in metal scaffolds, half-collapsed towers, and spirit wards etched in fading ink.
It wasn't a city. It was a warcamp that had decided to grow walls.
Every alley pulsed with tension.
"I love it," Wei Lin said, eyes wide.
Shang Di glanced sideways. "You would."
They pushed deeper into the Market Crescent — the outer trade loop of the city. Here, weapon stalls jutted from broken storefronts, talisman merchants sold blessings written in questionable ink, and alchemists yelled about 'limit-breaking concoctions' in glowing flasks.
Everyone here looked like they'd seen someone die.
Or made it happen.
⸻
Half an hour in, Shang Di stepped into a shadowed side alley and exhaled.
Then opened the system.
[System Notification]
Quest Complete: Beyond the Cauldron
– Objective: Reach Obsidian Root City
– Optional: No faction mark acquired
Reward:
+300 SP
Spirit Beast Path Synced
New Quest Triggered
Quest: Path of the Wild Sect
Tier: Foundation
Objectives:
– Survey City for Power Gaps
– Establish 1 Independent Resource Stream
– Recruit 1 Local Cultivator (Unaffiliated)
Reward:
+500 SP
Unlock: Sect Creation Module
Bonus: Region Map Overlay (Beastlands, Abandoned Sect Grounds, and Trade Nexus access)
SP: 730
Tickets: None
Shang Di closed it with a sharp breath.
It had begun.
Really begun.
...
They found an inn on the edge of the Market Crescent. It was called The Cracked Cup — two stories of stone and wood barely held together by formation plates and stubbornness.
One spirit coin per night. No questions asked.
Inside, it was quiet. Just flickering talisman lanterns, a gruff old keeper behind a counter, and an unspoken rule: mind your business.
Wei Lin dropped his gear on the floor beside his cot. "Not bad."
"Better than a cave," Shang Di agreed.
"Barely."
They rested briefly. Long enough to breathe. Long enough to clean the dust from their cloaks, and long enough to eat half-burnt travel rations by the window in silence.
Then Wei Lin broke the silence.
"There's a gathering tomorrow. Combat ring. Outer circle. Unaffiliated duelists. No rules except: try not to die fast."
Shang Di raised a brow. "And?"
"You win? People watch. People talk. Factions notice."
"And if you lose?"
"You bleed and get laughed at."
Shang Di thought for a moment.
"…Sounds like a good start."
Wei Lin smiled.
"You're insane."
"No," Shang Di said quietly, his eyes on the window. The city pulsed beyond it. Firelight. Smoke. Distant echoes of blade strikes.
"I'm just getting started."
...
To be continued…