By the Lanqiang River, Flowing Horse Market.
The Lanqiang River, which originated in North Boundary Mountain, stretched for thousands of miles and nourished the vast grasslands. Over the past several centuries, many herding tribes had established enclosed settlements along its lush, well-watered banks, using them as winter dwellings, shelters from disaster, and marketplaces for trade.
Flowing Horse Market was one of the largest such settlements.
As spring gave way to summer, the grasslands were entering their finest season. This large enclosed market was especially bustling, with many merchant caravans arriving to purchase fat, sturdy cattle, sheep, and horses from the local herders.
Cooking smoke curled into the air, and voices roared in a boiling din. One white tent after another had lifted its felt flaps, warmly welcoming merchants and travelers from north and south.
Besides livestock, Flowing Horse Market also had vast quantities of spirit herbs and spirit materials produced on the grasslands, so Rogue Cultivators in all manner of dress could be seen throughout the market.
These white tents resembling yurts were the equivalent of shops.
Some of the white tents had stood in Flowing Horse Market for over a century, or even longer.
Inside a white tent at the market's southeastern corner, a fat, burly tent master whose smile resembled Maitreya Buddha was directing his attendants in moving goods.
Suddenly, a tall, powerfully built man flung open the felt flap and barged into the white tent.
An attendant immediately approached him with a smile. "Honored guest, we're still taking inventory. We won't open for another half hour. Could I trouble you to..."
The rule in Flowing Horse Market was that only white tents with their felt flaps raised were open for business.
"Get lost!"
Yet the newcomer was exceedingly overbearing. With a shove, he knocked the attendant to