Lin Ming followed Beichen toward the weapon storage warehouse. Soon, they stopped before a large building.

Lin Ming finally realized how massive Beichen’s shop truly was—and how absurdly wealthy this muscle-bound bachelor was. Before him lay a warehouse filled entirely with Divine Weapons. *Damn!* Every shelf held priceless swords! How could he *not* be rich?

Unaware of Lin Ming’s expression, Beichen began dismantling the layers of defensive Magic and locks guarding his life’s fortune. Spells and mechanisms—over a dozen layers thick—sealed the entrance. After finishing, Beichen turned to Lin Ming. "Come on in! Pick any weapon you like. But just *one*."

"Uncle Beichen!" Lin Ming blurted out, stunned. "You trust me this much? Any single blade here could fetch tens of thousands of Gold Coins if sold!"

Beichen clapped Lin Ming’s shoulder with a hearty laugh. "Aren’t you usually greedy for money? Now that it’s free, you’re whining like a girl! Still—only one."

A warm current flickered in Lin Ming’s chest, though his words stayed sharp. "Hah. I’m just sparing you heartbreak. One it is—and it counts toward your twenty-sword debt. You still owe me nineteen."

"*Sigh*," Beichen muttered, shaking his head. "You really never miss a chance to profit. But… this *is* the Lin Ming I know."

"Like you just met me?" Lin Ming shot him a sideways glance.

"Enough chatter. Go pick your weapon. Then leave." Beichen gestured toward the warehouse door.

Inside, Lin Ming froze. *Drool* instantly spilled from his mouth.

Racks upon racks of Divine Weapons lined the walls. If sold, they’d flood him in a sea of gold. He forced himself to stop imagining it—the sheer wealth overwhelmed him.

"Stunning, isn’t it?" Beichen puffed his chest, stroking his nose proudly. "This is my shop’s true foundation. I wouldn’t show this to just anyone."

Lin Ming wiped his chin, eyes wide. "Uncle Beichen… you’re a hidden millionaire! No wonder you gambled weapons so casually back then."

"Pfft. A few blades? Pocket change." Beichen beamed—until Lin Ming’s next words shattered his grin.

"...Then why are you still single?" Lin Ming mused aloud.

*Why… still single?*

*Single?*

The words pierced Beichen’s heart like arrows. He collapsed into an OTZ pose on the floor, utterly broken.

*Thud.* A cold sweat beaded on Lin Ming’s forehead. The mighty Beichen had crumbled in seconds.

"*Why* don’t I have a wife? I’m rich!" Beichen mumbled into the floorboards. "I’m not *handsome*, but ruggedly charming! And wealthy!"

"*This shouldn’t be happening!!!*"

Lin Ming felt the weight of Beichen’s despair. *He really cares about this…* Swallowing hard, he whispered, "Uncle Beichen… I’ll, uh, pick my sword now."

Beichen kept muttering. Lin Ming shook his head and stepped deeper inside.

Rows of weapons gleamed under glass cases—swords, spears, halberds, axes. Lin Ming paused before the sword display. His gaze snagged on an ice-blue blade:

**Frostwater Sword**

*Length: 2 chi. Forged from Frost Crystal Ore. Razor-sharp edge. Channels Spirit Energy to unleash Ice Sword Qi. Note: Doubles power for Ice Spirit users.*

He moved on to a slender short sword:

**Windshadow Sword**

*Length: 1.2 chi. Crafted from Shadowsteel. Lightweight, sharp, and stealth-enhanced. Note: Assassin’s choice.*

"*Damn*," Lin Ming grumbled internally. "All these high-end swords need Spirit Energy. My cultivation’s sealed—I’ve barely a drop left. A few slashes and I’d be drained. Might as well fight barehanded!" He sighed at the glittering displays… then spotted a black longsword tucked in a corner:

**Blackiron Heavy Sword**

*Length: 4 chi. Forged from Deepsea Blackiron. Unbreakable. Weight: 500 jin.*

"Huh? A heavy sword this slim?" Lin Ming frowned. "Aren’t they supposed to be huge?"

"*Ahem.* I made that one," a hollow voice echoed behind him.

Lin Ming jumped—then relaxed. "Uncle Beichen? You’re… recovered already?"

Ignoring the question, Beichen continued flatly, "I forged it on a whim. Wanted to see if anyone’d use a heavy sword like this. Turns out… everyone prefers lighter blades."

*He bounced back fast—and pretended not to hear the ‘single’ part,* Lin Ming thought dryly. Aloud, he said, "So this sword’s only good for weight and durability?"

"Exactly. And it’s not very sharp," Beichen added.

Lin Ming pondered for a moment. "Perfect. I’ll take this one."

Beichen’s expression turned grave. "Lin Ming, weapons matter. I brought you here because I don’t want you dying on that suicidal mission your Headmaster assigned. Are you *sure*?"

A faint smile touched Lin Ming’s lips. "I know you care, Uncle. And yes—the Headmaster’s tasks are hellish. But he gave it to *me* because I *can* finish it." He met Beichen’s eyes. "Besides… my Spirit Energy’s nearly gone. I need a weapon that kills without it."

Beichen studied Lin Ming’s Body Cultivation Rank. *He’s right… his brute strength suits this sword. Pity his Spirit Energy’s too weak for the good stuff. Such is fate.* "Take it," he said finally.

"Thanks."

Lin Ming opened the case, hefted the Blackiron Heavy Sword, and tested its weight. "Heavy… let’s try it."

He swung the blade. His movements weren’t graceful—just solid, relentless. Shockwaves rippled from his strikes, battering Beichen’s robes. The older man stood firm as an iron pillar, unmoved.

*Hah!* Lin Ming stopped, a satisfied grin spreading. *Even without sharpness, 500 jin of force would cripple a Magic Beast.* "This is it, Uncle! Let’s go."

"As long as you’re happy," Beichen chuckled, warmth returning to his eyes.

"Back to the shop, then."