This was a kind of treatment that William Grant had never experienced in his previous life. He was already used to being ignored as a passerby, and being able to attract the interest of beautiful women just by walking down the street was his wildest dream.

This made William Grant feel very good, and as a result, he gained quite a bit of confidence and relaxed a little.

Following the route in his memory, William Grant arrived at the busiest central street of Pegasus Market.

This long street divided Pegasus Market in two, and almost all the shops were located along it.

Grain shops, clothing shops, pharmacies, liquor stores, weapon shops, general stores, and so on—shops on this street covered all the daily needs of cultivators in Pegasus Market.

In addition, quite a few cultivators set up stalls along the street, selling things like animal hides, meat, and low-grade magical tools.

People came and went along the street, with all kinds of hawking and conversation mixing together, making it quite lively.

Such a scene also allowed William Grant to truly relax.

In broad daylight, with so many people around, he figured no one would dare cause trouble.

No one tried to strike up a conversation with William Grant either; unfamiliar cultivators would instinctively keep a distance of five or six feet.

What really made William Grant uncomfortable were those cultivators running stalls. Each one had a greasy face, nodding and bowing, looking just like small-time vendors, with none of the bearing of a cultivator.

If he so much as paused for a moment, the stall owners would immediately come over and enthusiastically introduce their wares.

Their attentive attitude, comparable to the waiters at Haidilao, made William Grant, who already had a bit of social anxiety, even more uneasy, so he could only quicken his pace and leave.

From a distance, William Grant could see that the pharmacy in the center was the most impressive, with a shiny sign hanging at the entrance and a neatly dressed clerk loudly soliciting customers at the door.

He didn’t want to run into Shopkeeper Clark, nor did he want to see Mary.

Sneaking into a nearby general store, William Grant spent a few pieces of broken silver to buy dozens of thick steel needles.

These ordinary household sewing needles weren’t worth much to begin with. It was only in a semi-closed place like Pegasus Market that they could be sold at such a high price.

Returning home smoothly, William Grant held a sewing needle over two inches long between his middle finger and thumb. Somewhat excited, he muttered to himself, “Whether this works or not depends on this attempt…”

Chapter 13: Flying Needles

“Snatch…”

A cold gleam flashed, and a steel needle over two inches long was deeply embedded in the solid wooden door, the tail still buzzing and vibrating.

William Grant inspected the result and was quite satisfied.

Although the wooden door of his room was rough, it was made of pine, with a door panel three inches thick—very sturdy.

To flick a needle from ten steps away and have it penetrate an inch into the door—while this power was far less than that of the Ice Arrow or Fireball spells, it was enough to pierce the human body and cause injury.

The key was that flying needles were simple and convenient to use; it just required more practice for accuracy. There was also the issue of how to carry such long needles on his person and how to access them quickly—problems that needed to be solved.

The Electric Dragon Subduing Hand was indeed very useful; flicking a flying needle was a simple move and posed no difficulty for him.

William Grant practiced a few more times and quickly mastered the trick.

Just then, a fly landed on the door. He flicked his finger, and with a flash of cold light, the fly was nailed dead.

To be precise, the fly had already become a smear of dirty blood.

The kinetic energy on the flying needle was too strong; under the impact and vibration, the fly was smashed to pieces.

Practicing with flying needles was very cheap and didn’t make a huge commotion like spells did. Flicking a needle and hitting the target precisely brought a great sense of accomplishment.

It was just like the smooth satisfaction of making every basketball shot—so enjoyable he couldn’t stop.

The pack of sewing needles William Grant bought was quickly used up.

These flying needles either ended up embedded in the door or stuck in the wall. The excessive force of the flick also caused the needles to bend, break, or shatter, making them unusable again.

William Grant had no choice but to go out again, but this time he couldn’t buy any more sewing needles. There were plenty of cultivators in Pegasus Market, but few people sewed their own clothes.

The sixty-odd sewing needles were already the entire stock of the general store.

The shopkeeper also noticed that William Grant wasn’t buying needles for any proper purpose, so he reminded William Grant, “Fellow Daoist, if you want to buy a self-defense magical tool, you should go to Old Harris’s weapon shop. She has everything there.”

William Grant thought that made sense; for this kind of thing, it was better to go to a professional.

What surprised him was that Old Harris wasn’t old at all—on the contrary, she was quite flirtatious.

Old Harris looked about forty, with well-proportioned features—not particularly outstanding, and there were already fine crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.

But her lips were full and red, her chest broad, her waist slender, and the bright red Daoist robe she wore made her look quite enchanting.

“You must be the alchemist from Old Clark’s family, right, young man?”

When Old Harris saw William Grant come in, she couldn’t help but smile. There were many cultivators in Pegasus Market, but only one as young and handsome as William Grant.

She had seen him from afar once and was deeply impressed.

Now, looking at William Grant’s handsome face up close, she liked it more and more.

She warmly approached William Grant, “I still don’t know how to address you, young man. How old are you this year?”

“My surname is Gao, given name Xian. I’m twenty-four.”

William Grant had now fully integrated into this identity and acted very naturally.

“Only twenty-four, and already accomplished in Qi refining—truly a bright future ahead.”

Old Harris said with a smile, “My name is Yvonne Harris, I’m a few years older than you. Just call me Sister Yvonne.”