#wei i've know a few cool cultivation tricks wuxian

[mamoonde]

ha ha imagine modern cultivation reincarnation au where wei ying's reincarnation gets reborn in mundane society, later owning a pawn shop, and he sometimes posts about his cool finds/authentic items for sale.

one day someone drops the long lost stygian tiger seal in his shop. and look, wei ying may not be part of the super exclusive cultivator society, but he's not dumb, he knows a few things. he knows all about the history of the sect wars, the story of the dreaded yiling laozu, the massacre at nightless city, the siege of burial mounds. he was never a good student, but he did like to read.

he also knows how many counterfeits and replicas there are of cultivation artifacts. in fact he owns a pretty damn good one of zidian, and wen ruohan's authentic poison dagger. he knows better now how to tell when a guy doesn't actually know whether they're selling something of worth, or when a deal is too good to be true.

so when some rando drops in from out of town, a *little* too desperate to get rid of some "old family heirloom rock" he knows something's up.

"so you're telling me, your family's had this thing sitting around in your basement for generations, and you're just selling this to me, just like that?" wei ying looks up from the faded talismans clinging haphazardly to the sides of the dusty puzzle box.

the young man grins sharply.

"if my folks can cut me off for not having a shitty dumbfuck cultivator's core, why can't i sell their shit after they're dead and gone?" he jerks his thumb to the door. "'sides, ain't ya the one whose sign says, 'cursed items are fine'?"

wei ying raises a brow. "if you really believe it's cursed, why sell it here of all places?"

"well, can't give all the fun to them prissy ass cultivator pricks, can we?" the young man smirks, flicking at one of the frayed talismans. "'sides, i need easy cash. so how 'bout it?"

"well, it doesn't look pretty well-kept, that's for sure," wei ying spins the box, tugs at the little brass fixtures and lock keeping it shut. nothing seems to come off except from dust. "for all i know, this could just be something you got off etsy. how much do you want for it?"

the young man rolls his eyes. "well since you're so ecstatic to receive it, i want 500 bucks for it."

wei ying snorts. "kid, no one's gonna buy this thing off me for 450, let alone 500. i'll give you 300 for it."

"that's it?"

"300 or you take it to those prissy cultivators."

for a moment the guy just glowers at him and wei ying's sure he's gonna have to bring out his little party trick for troublesome customers. but in the end, the guy backs off. "fine, fine, i'll take the 300."

so wei ying gives him the money, already sure he's gonna be paying hell for it.

"nice doin' business with ya." the guy looks back at him with a smirk. "i don't think you'll have a problem finding people who'll want it. see 'ya around, wei ying."

and then he's gone.

wei ying looks down at the old box on his counter, talismans peeling off the side and sighs.

right off the bat, he can tell the box is neither 'generations old' nor 'cursed.' well, not as much as what's sealed inside it is.

see, wei ying may not have fancy schmancy cultivator education, or a golden core, but he was born sensitive to energies:

he knows the heavy warmth of spiritual energy, the burning cold of resentful energy.

and from the moment the guy had entered his tiny shop, wei ying had felt the box practically ooze dark, resentful energy, seeping through weakening talismans.

"what have we gotten ourselves into this time?" wei ying mutters to himself as he takes out his trusty protective gloves.

over the years of handling occasionally cursed items have taught him the merits of good sturdy cloth stitched with protective talismans – especially in minimizing singed fingers and damaged items.

he attaches a clip on lens to his phone camera, self-modified with tiny energy recording and protection arrays then carefully documents his latest, definitely cursed acquisition. most run-of-the-mill cursed items he encounters in his shop and some antique stores would register a faint smokey aura about them – resentment attached with no specific goal. rarely, some objects would have a darker grey hue – full of resentful spirits that could harm people.

talismans, fueled by spiritual energy would have a glow; its brightness depending on how much of it is left.

the talismans barely holding on to the puzzle box emit a feeble light, like days old glow sticks. and where they come away, the energy that seeps out is a pitch black.

"well fuck, seems we chose death today!" wei ying says, putting his phone down. "what the hell are you hiding inside, little buddy?"

for that matter, why was whatever it is not locked inside some cultivator's vault? for all that the cultivation society strictly keep to their circles,

they've never been silent when it came to dealing with evil spirits and keeping people away from vats of resentful energy (i.e. burial mounds, old yi city). the unguarded existence of an artifact that seems to contain all the resentment of china seems like a huge oversight.

his early bell goes off and wei ying has just enough time to stuff the old box in a heavily sealed pouch under his counter before his next customer comes in.

hopefully the talismans hold on until he can close up.

he's gonna need to call wen qing up before he can play around with it.

#mdzs #modern cultivation au #reincarnation au #wwx the pawnshop owner #and his shop of old or cursed items #sometimes both #mamoonde fics #wei i'm not a cultivator wuxian #but also #wei i've know a few cool cultivation tricks wuxian #long form #to be continued