The two and a half months leading up to the Great City Tournament were not a period of peaceful waiting for Ye Chen.
He knew that while his Asura Iron Flesh could easily deflect the physical strikes of ordinary Fourth Layer cultivators, the Fifth Layer was a different realm entirely.
At the Fifth Layer of Qi Condensation, a cultivator could externalize their spiritual energy—shaping it into lethal projectiles or coating their weapons in a dense, armor-piercing shroud.
Xue Ironwood is at the Fifth Layer, Ye Chen thought coldly.
His Earth-rank spear can pierce through ordinary steel.
My Iron Flesh is strong, but it is not invincible.
He needed to push his silver Qi from the Second Layer to the very peak of the Third Layer before the tournament.
But rapid ascension came with a price.
His newly repaired spirit roots were still fragile—if he pushed too hard, too fast, they would destabilize.
He needed a rare elemental catalyst: the Sun-Scorch Pill Core.
It was a high-grade mortal pill capable of generating intense interior heat—the exact counter-balance needed to refine the remaining glacial frost inside his meridians.
Such items were far beyond the shallow inventory of the Lin Clan’s outer medicine hall.
The Lin Clan will not have it, Ye Chen thought.
But the Nine Star Grand Bazaar might.
Donning a long, charcoal-colored hooded cloak over his blue moon-silk robes, Ye Chen left the inner sect mountains under the cover of the morning fog.
His destination was the Nine Star Grand Bazaar—a massive, neutral trading sector located at the center of the city, ruled directly by the City Lord’s faction.
It was a sprawling labyrinth of stone pavilions, open-air stalls, and crowded alleyways where rogue cultivators, sect elders, and wealthy merchants traded everything from forbidden manuals to rare beast parts.
The noise of the bazaar was a deafening wall of sound as Ye Chen stepped through the iron-reinforced southern gates.
The scent of roasting spirit beasts, pungent medicinal herbs, and expensive burning incenses filled the air.
It has been a thousand years since I walked through a market like this, Ye Chen thought, his eyes sweeping across the chaotic scene.
In my previous life, I was too poor to buy even a single low-grade pill.
Now…
now I can buy whatever I want.
He walked past the rows of common street vendors, his soul awareness subtly expanded to filter through the chaotic spiritual signatures of the marketplace.
He ignored the low-grade weapons and fake ancient relics, his steps leading him directly toward the Hundred Herbs Pavilion—the largest and most reputable alchemical establishment in the region, managed by the neutral Alchemist Guild.
As he walked into the cool, polished interior of the pavilion, the chaotic noise of the streets vanished, replaced by the soothing aroma of thousand-year-old wood preservation oils.
Rows of glass cabinets lined the walls, each containing rare pills resting on velvet pillows, sealed with delicate containment arrays.
Ye Chen’s eyes flickered across the cabinets.
Three-hundred-year Blood Ginseng.
Nine-Leaf Lotus.
Dragon Bone Marrow Pill.
Each one was worth more than the entire Lin Clan treasury.
But he ignored them all, his gaze fixed on the counter ahead.
“Welcome, honored guest,” a polite, middle-aged supervisor said, bowing slightly as he noticed the gold trim of the inner sect robes peeking out from beneath Ye Chen’s dark cloak.
“Are you looking for basic recovery elixirs, or perhaps a breakthrough catalyst for your upcoming trials?”
“I need a Sun-Scorch Pill Core,” Ye Chen said smoothly, his voice low and flat.
“It must be at least of the intermediate purity grade.”
The Sun-Scorch Pill Core was a volatile, dangerous pill usually used only by fire-attributed cultivators to break through bottlenecks.
If an ordinary cultivator consumed it, the intense heat would burn through their channels like liquid fire.
“An intermediate Sun-Scorch Core…” the supervisor murmured, his fingers tapping nervously on the counter.
“We do possess one in our central vault, valued at eighty low-grade spirit stones. However, it is currently reserved for a high-ranking buyer from the Tiger Clan.”
“Eighty spirit stones?”
A sharp, arrogant voice interrupted from the entrance of the pavilion.
“I will pay one hundred low-grade spirit stones for it right now. Tell the Tiger Clan to wait.”
Ye Chen did not turn his head immediately.
He slowly lowered his hood, revealing his young, stone-calm face as a group of wealthy youths strode into the hall.
The leader was a young man in his late teens, dressed in extravagant golden silk robes embroidered with the crest of the Wang Clan—one of the three ruling families of Nine Star City.
Wang Qiang, Ye Chen thought, his ancient eyes flickering with faint recognition.
Third Layer of Qi Condensation.
Notorious for his volatile temper and his family’s immense wealth.
In my previous life, he died in a drunken brawl three years from now.
Behind Wang Qiang stood two muscular bodyguards, both radiating the heavy spiritual pressure of the Fourth Layer.
“Young Master Wang,” the supervisor stammered, bowing deeply in fear.
“The pavilion rules state that the first customer to request the item—”
“The rules of the bazaar are written by the strong, supervisor,” Wang Qiang sneered, stepping closer and slamming a heavy leather pouch of spirit stones onto the glass counter.
He turned his arrogant gaze toward Ye Chen, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the Lin Clan crest.
“Ah, a member of the declining Lin Clan. Tell me, boy, does your minor family even possess eighty spirit stones after your treasury was drained last month? Get out of my way before I have my guards throw you into the dirt.”
In his past life, Ye Chen had watched whole empires of wealth crumble into stardust.
To him, the petty arrogance of a local merchant family’s son was nothing more than the buzzing of an annoying gnat.
“The Wang Clan’s wealth must be immense if it allows its descendants to buy their way into an early grave,” Ye Chen said softly, his dark, ancient eyes locking onto Wang Qiang’s gaze, chilling the room instantly.
“The pill is mine. Take your stones and leave before your arrogance costs you more than your pocket can afford.”
Wang Qiang’s face twisted into an angry crimson flush.
“Insolent beggar! You dare threaten me inside the Grand Bazaar? Guards! Break his jaw and throw him into the alley!”
The two Fourth Layer bodyguards roared in unison, their heavy iron gauntlets humming with a dense layer of brown, earth-attributed Qi.
They lunged forward simultaneously, their fists cutting through the air like twin battering rams, aimed directly at Ye Chen’s face.
CLANG!
A deafening sound of metal striking solid iron resonated across the pristine hall.
A violent burst of sparks exploded outward.
The supervisor gasped, covering his eyes, expecting a bloodbath.
But when the dust settled, the entire pavilion fell into a deathly silence.
Ye Chen had not even drawn his sword.
He stood perfectly still, his hands still loosely tucked into his wide blue sleeves.
The two heavy iron gauntlets were pressed firmly against his chest, but they had not moved his frame by even a fraction of a millimeter.
His moon-silk robe was torn, revealing the flawless, jade-like skin beneath—skin that was currently radiating a subtle, metallic silver sheen.
“What… what kind of monster body is this?!” one of the bodyguards shrieked, his white-knuckled grip trembling as he felt the absolute, immovable density of Ye Chen’s frame.
“Your strike lacks structure,” Ye Chen whispered.
Before the bodyguards could pull their arms back to retreat, Ye Chen’s shoulders shifted by a fraction.
Without utilizing a single drop of his silver Qi, the sheer physical mass of his frost-tempered bones exploded outward in a brutal counter-shove.
Boom.
Boom.
The two Fourth Layer warriors were sent flying backward through the air, crashing heavily through the wooden partition walls of the pavilion.
They collapsed into the shards of splintered mahogany, unconscious and bleeding from their ears.
Wang Qiang staggered back three steps.
His face turned from a furious red to a pale, ghostly white.
His knees shook in primal, naked terror.
The sixteen-year-old boy standing before him was not a cultivator—he was a primordial beast cloaked in human skin.
How is this possible?
Wang Qiang thought, his mind racing.
He is from the Lin Clan!
The weakest clan in the city!
How can a boy my age have a body that can withstand Fourth Layer strikes?!
Ye Chen calmly walked over to the counter, reached into his sleeve, and pulled out the high-grade storage pouch he had plundered from Lin Hao.
He tossed it lightly onto the counter, the stones jingling softly.
“Eighty low-grade spirit stones. Package the pill core immediately.”
The supervisor nodded frantically, his hands shaking violently as he bypassed the arrays, placed the small jade box containing the glowing red Sun-Scorch Pill Core into a velvet bag, and handed it over with a deeply bowed head.
Ye Chen accepted the bag, slid it into his wide sleeve, and turned his back on the trembling Wang Qiang.
He pulled his dark hood back over his face, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone tiles as he walked out into the crowded streets of the bazaar.
The catalyst for the Third Layer was now in his hands.
The Wang Clan will seek revenge, Ye Chen thought calmly as he walked through the crowded streets.
They will add their names to the growing list of factions waiting for my blood.
He looked toward the distant northern mountains, where his secluded cave awaited.
A cold, ruthless smile formed beneath his hood.
The flies are multiplying.
The trap is broadening.
And the Great City Tournament is going to be a bloodbath the Nine Star City will never forget.
Author’s Note:
Ye Chen just made a new enemy — the Wang Clan!
💰
And he did it without drawing his sword.
Again.
The Asura Iron Flesh is no joke.
But Wang Qiang won’t forget this humiliation.
The Wang Clan will come for revenge…