The attack from the Pathseeker realm had carved a crater hundreds of meters wide into the weapon hall's floor, its charred edges still faintly smoking. Yet despite the devastation, the air remained unnervingly still—no spatial ripples, no lingering energy. The strike's ferocity had been smothered, reduced to a mere whisper of its true power.
Luo Chuan approached the shimmering light curtain, its surface rippling like mercury under moonlight. Hieroglyphs of weapon classifications scrolled endlessly: Heaven, Earth, Black, Yellow—the four tiers of spiritual arms—followed by rarities like Saint Weapons, Emperor Arms, and even Celestial Artifacts. Prices blazed beside them, each digit more staggering than the last. A basic Saint Weapon demanded a million spirit crystals. Emperor Arms and Celestial Artifacts, however, bore no prices at all—only cryptic descriptions that glowed with forbidden allure.
"System," Luo Chuan murmured, tracing a finger over the spectral display, "why no prices for the higher-tier weapons?"
"Beyond Saint Weapons, value transcends mortal currency," the system intoned, its voice a detached chime. "Spirit crystals hold no equivalence to such power."
Luo Chuan's eyes narrowed. The Azure Continent's economy revolved around spirit crystals, but clearly, the system operated on a grander scale. "Then how are they sold?"
"When a buyer fulfills the prerequisites, the relevant functions unlock automatically."
A wry smile tugged at his lips. Prerequisites. Always another layer of mystery. These weapons weren't meant for the Azure Continent's cultivators—not yet, at least. Their existence hinted at realms beyond, where Mortal Awakening cultivators were but ants beneath the boots of Eminences and Celestial Ascendants.
But another thought burned brighter. "System, the weapon database—it doesn't only trade in spiritual arms, does it?"
"The arsenal spans infinite worlds."
"Then where are the technological weapons? Pulse rifles? Plasma cannons?" His fingers flicked faster through the holographic entries, but the entries remained stubbornly archaic—swords, spears, talismans.
"Analysis complete," the system replied. "The Azure Continent's cultivation ecosystem remains unstable. Introduction of advanced techno-weaponry risks catastrophic imbalance. To preserve world equilibrium and ensure sustainable development, sales are restricted."
Luo Chuan nearly laughed. "And the Trial Tower's armory? That didn't 'disrupt equilibrium' when it nearly vaporized Wu Ying last week?"
"Temporary permissions were granted for trial purposes. Permanent deployment requires side-quest completion."
"Side quests. Of course." He leaned back, already envisioning the chaos: azure-scaled dragons strafed by photon missiles, Southern Protector elders gaping at mech suits. The clash of epochs—that would be a spectacle. "How do I trigger these quests?"
"Host may initiate voluntarily, or await system-generated prompts."
"Convenient." His smirk faded as a new realization struck. "Wait—these restrictions don't apply to me, do they?"
"The Origin Mall's proprietor retains full privileges over all inventory."
This time, his smile bloomed fully. "Knew you had a soft spot for me."
The system fell silent, retreating into its usual enigma. With a mental nudge, Luo Chuan summoned the hidden weapon logs. The light curtain dissolved, then reconfigured—rows of forbidden schematics flickering to life. Railguns. Nanothorn blades. Devices that bent reality itself.
Somewhere beyond the hall's walls, a storm brewed—one that would rewrite the Azure Continent's destiny. And Luo Chuan, armed with the arsenal of countless worlds, stood at its eye.