The deep perimeter of the Ghost Mist Forest grew increasingly silent, save for the crunch of damp leaves underfoot. The thick grey mist gave way to a dense, unnatural black fog that smelled heavily of incense, stale blood, and ancient iron.
Rising out of the gloom were towering structures built from the ribcages of long-dead spirit beasts, lit by flickering green spirit-flames suspended in jars of murky oil. This was the Ghost Market—a black-market sanctuary operating under the shadow of the lawless lands, where outlaw cultivators, rogue alchemists, and demonic faction members traded forbidden goods.
Xiao Feng walked closely behind Li Chen, his hands resting near the hilt of his short sword. He kept his eyes peeled, noticing shadows lurking in the alleys between stalls—figures wrapped in heavy cloaks, their glowing eyes watching the newcomers like vultures waiting for a carcass.
— Keep your spiritual sense pulled inward, — Li Chen warned softly, his voice barely audible over the low murmur of the market crowd. — In a place like this, exposing your Qi without the strength to back it up is an invitation to be hunted.
They passed stalls displaying rare poisonous roots, jagged beast cores pulsing with erratic energy, and blood-soaked martial arts manuals recovered from ancient tombs. Read the latest chapters at novelping.com.
Eventually, Li Chen stopped before a three-story pavilion constructed from blackened ironwood. Above the arched entrance hung a massive wooden sign carved with three characters that hummed with a subtle spatial array: The Pavilion of the Pavilion’s Shade.
As they stepped inside, the chaotic noise of the street vanished instantly, replaced by absolute quiet. An old man with a hunchback sat behind a counter of polished obsidian, using a tiny silver pick to clean out the ashes of a copper incense burner.
— No common copper or iron accepted here, stranger, — the hunchbacked clerk rasped without looking up. — High-grade spirit stones, rare beast cores, or blood-tier artifacts only. What brings a cultivator of your caliber to my humble shop? Read this novel at novelping.com for the best experience.
Li Chen casually tossed a heavy leather pouch onto the counter. It landed with a dull, metallic thud, spilling three shimmering rings—the storage rings belonging to Elder Zhao and his top disciples.
The clerk paused, his tiny silver pick freezing in midair. Slowly, he raised his head, his cloudy, yellowed eyes narrowing as he recognized the golden solar crest etched onto the surface of the central ring.
— The Sun-Veil Sect's elder crest... freshly unsealed, — the old clerk whispered, a sharp glint of greed and shock flashing across his withered face. He looked at Li Chen’s crimson-violet eyes and the dark mist faintly coiling around his sleeves. — You... you are the one who slaughtered the purification squad in the Black Wind Mountains.
— I need spatial talismans, five-hundred-year-old Nether-Grass, and an cauldron capable of enduring abyssal flames, — Li Chen said, leaning over the counter as a wave of oppressive dark Qi washed over the room. — Tell me, old man... does the Pavilion of Shade sell to those who walk the dark path, or do I need to refine your soul to get my answers?