The murmurs reached his ears as the Fourth Prince lifted his chin with a smug expression, straightening his robes before stepping forward.
Indeed, even the most formidable martial factions had to show deference before the imperial family.
Prince He watched impassively without intervening.
“Meng Po, this person shall be handed over to this prince—”
“Bang!”
Before he could finish speaking, an icy, bone-chilling gust of wind struck abruptly. The Fourth Prince didn’t even see Meng Po’s movement—he only felt as if a heavy hammer had smashed into his chest, sending him flying through the air like a kite with its string cut.
The crowd scattered with panicked screams as he crashed heavily onto the bluestone pavement. A metallic, bloody taste surged up his throat, which he forcibly swallowed back.
Digging his fingers into the ground, the Fourth Prince’s pupils contracted sharply.
Meng Po’s cultivation was at least at the Transformation Realm, yet she appeared to be barely over twenty years old.
Fear instantly overwhelmed his pride, and his gaze shifted to his imperial uncle in a silent plea for help.
But Prince He merely toyed with the jade beads in his hand, not even glancing his way.
Meng Po’s attention remained fixed on Shen Qingwu.
Sensing clearly that the woman bore no ill will toward her, Shen Qingwu met her cold gaze directly. “That’s right.”
As she spoke, she raised the Mandala Hairpin to the woman’s eye level. In the next moment, Meng Po actually leaned forward slightly, extending her tongue to gently lick the floral pattern on the hairpin.
A chilling sensation seemed to transmit through the hairpin to Shen Qingwu’s fingertips, making all her hairs stand on end. Instinctively, her fingers tightened around the hairpin.
Meng Po straightened up, a strange smile curling at the corner of her lips as she spoke in a voice both soft and cold: “Your name.”
After a moment of contemplation, Shen Qingwu replied, “Wu Xiang.”
—This body is formless, upholding only righteousness. This was her master’s teaching from years past.
“Your Excellency Wuxiang,” Meng Po chuckled lightly before raising her voice to announce: “From this day forward, Your Excellency Wuxiang shall be an honored guest of the Ghost Market!” As she spoke, her chilling peripheral gaze swept toward the Fourth Prince.
The Fourth Prince shuddered violently. How could this be? What identity did this mysterious enchantress truly possess?
Had he truly provoked someone he shouldn’t have?
Then Meng Po hooked a strand of Shen Qingwu’s hair, her voice carrying a mesmerizing magnetism: “Please enter the sedan.”
In a flash of red, Meng Po had already lifted the sedan curtain.
Finally free from the trouble with the Fourth Prince. Clutching the hairpin in her hand, Shen Qingwu swept gracefully into the sedan and seated herself properly. As the curtain fell, she heard Meng Po’s clear voice resounding through the long street:
“The Mandala appears, the Green Lantern ignites—”
Immediately, thunderous cheers erupted outside the sedan.
Shen Qingwu didn’t yet understand the meaning of “lighting the Green Lantern,” nor did she know where this red sedan was headed. But she lowered her gaze to contemplate the hairpin in her palm, a slight smile touching her lips—
She trusted the person who had given her this object.
The spectators stared dumbfounded as the red sedan disappeared beyond the Gate of Yan, murmuring among themselves:
“A red sedan reception, guided by the Green Lantern! This is the highest honor in the Ghost Market, unseen for nearly a decade!”
“That was actually the Mandala Hairpin! The Ghost King’s token, said to have been granted only three times throughout history. The bearer becomes an honored guest of the Ghost Market!”
Only when that glaring red color had completely vanished did the oppressive atmosphere gradually lift from the crowd. The Seventh Princess hurried to help the Fourth Prince to his feet, asking curiously: “What does ‘lighting the Green Lantern’ mean?”
The Fourth Prince hung his head, still feeling lingering fear. He shook his head listlessly: “This is my first time at the Ghost Market too.”
“Lighting the Green Lantern.” Prince He suddenly spoke, and both immediately turned to look at him.
His gaze remained fixed on the direction where the red sedan had disappeared. “All transactions in the Ghost Market tonight will offer a twenty percent discount.”
The Seventh Princess gasped sharply. Transactions in the Ghost Market often involved thousands in gold; a twenty percent discount meant millions lost in a single night. All this commotion for one young girl?
The jade beads between Ye Chen’s fingers suddenly paused, one quietly cracking. When did such a figure emerge within the borders of Dasheng?
“Is Gu Jiuqing here?” Shen Qingwu, unaware of the discussions outside the sedan, tentatively uttered this name.
The sedan noticeably jolted before steadying itself.
“He…” Meng Po’s voice carried a barely perceptible tremble. “…is temporarily not in the Ghost Market. What does Your Excellency Wuxiang seek today? I shall accompany you throughout, and all expenses will be covered by the Ghost Market.”
Shen Qingwu’s fingertips lightly traced the mandala patterns on her hairpin, a faint smile flickering in her eyes.
It seemed the injured young man from back then had now made quite a name for himself in the Ghost Market.
“I’d like to inquire about someone,” Shen Qingwu’s voice echoed casually inside the sedan. “Wu Lingyi.”
This was Shen Wushi’s original name.
Meng Po let out a soft, disdainful scoff. “Hah… What insignificant person is this? I’ve never heard of her. But rest assured, Your Excellency Wuxiang, if she so much as sets foot in the Ghost Market, I will surely root her out.”
The sedan came to a gentle halt.
“We’ve arrived.”
As the sedan curtain was lifted, Shen Qingwu looked up to see a majestic structure towering before her. A black plaque with golden characters bore the striking words “Netherworld Palace.” Lanterns hanging on either side emitted an eerie green glow, shrouding the entire building in an ominous atmosphere.
Meng Po, standing beside her with crimson sleeves flowing, remarked, “This is the largest trading venue in the Ghost Market. On the fifteenth of each month, a rare treasure is auctioned here.”
Her long, crimson nail pointed lightly in the air. “But acquiring it requires more than just silver. The owner of each treasure sets a special condition.” Meng Po cast a meaningful glance at Shen Qingwu. “If you’re interested, you’ll have to rely on your own skills to obtain it.”
“Shall we go in?”
Beneath her mask, Shen Qingwu’s eyes sparkled with keen interest.
Of course, she wanted to see it for herself.
Without hesitation, Shen Qingwu strode directly inside.
Upon entering the hall, she was astonished to discover that the Netherworld Palace, which appeared to have only one level from the outside, concealed a vast interior. Winding stone staircases spiraled downward, intersected by dozens of suspended stone bridges.
Countless stalls were densely arranged, their eerie green lanterns casting a ghostly pallor on every face. The cacophony of hawking and haggling rose and fell, even noisier than the busiest market in the capital.
Shen Qingwu’s gaze swept over the stalls—exotic treasures, divine weapons, rare medicinal herbs, mythical beasts and fierce birds, and even… human bones and organs.
Meng Po’s red lips curved into a faint smile as she whispered in her ear, “Here, anything can be bought, and anything can be sold. As long as…” She paused, her voice laced with temptation. “…you can afford the price and bear the consequences.”
Shen Qingwu stared at this den of desire flourishing under the bizarre lights, understanding dawning—this was a world existing beyond mortal rules.
“The rare treasure auction is about to begin. Please follow me.” Meng Po’s red dress trailed along the ground as she moved, drifting like a phantom.
Upon seeing her, everyone from the Netherworld Palace showed astonishment, bowing respectfully one after another. When they noticed the woman wearing a wolf-tooth mask behind her, their gazes turned even more inquisitive.
They had yet to learn that the mandala flower hairpin had reappeared in the world, let alone that this woman was the esteemed guest for whom the entire Ghost Market had lit blue lanterns tonight.
Just as she descended the stone steps to the second level, Shen Qingwu’s gaze abruptly fixed on a particular spot.
Beneath the mask, the corners of her lips slowly curved upward: “Truly, after searching far and wide, here you are without any effort.”
She strode directly toward the familiar figure embroiled in an argument, grabbed the back of their collar without hesitation, and slammed them fiercely to the ground!