The small door at the end of the alley was a boundary.
Outside lay the ordinary streets of Linyuan Prefecture; inside was another bizarre and wondrous world.
The moment Ye Qingxuan stepped through, the air around him grew murky. The damp, earthy stench mingled with the black smoke from cheap lamp oil that never quite finished burning, along with a faint smell of blood that wormed into his nostrils.
This was a vast underground cavern. The walls were uneven, and torchlight cast sinister, dancing shadows across the rocks, stretching and shrinking people's silhouettes until they looked like specters.
His footsteps were steady. He kept his back close to one side of the cavern wall so no one could ambush him from behind. A black cloth concealed his face, leaving only a pair of eyes exposed as they warily swept over everything around him.
There were vendors sitting on the ground beside the road. One had several rusted weapons laid out before him, claiming they were relics of generals from the previous dynasty. Another held a wooden box containing several withered herbs that gave off a strange smell. Farther away, a shackled man stood with hollow eyes, a wooden placard planted in front of him with a price written on it.
This was the Ghost Market. The law of the authorities could not shine in here. Only bright silver and hard fists were passes that worked everywhere.
His gaze skimmed over the stone wall deeper inside, where bamboo slips hung. The Fengtian Division's wanted notices looked especially glaring under the dim yellow torchlight.
[Wanted: Remnants of Green Fish Gang. Capture one alive for a reward of five taels of silver.]
Five taels of silver was no small sum.
But the money was scalding hot. The people from Green Fish Gang were all desperate criminals. Capturing one alive would surely mean a bitter fight. He needed money, but he needed security even more. Tomorrow was the deadline. He could not afford the slightest mistake.
He withdrew his gaze and found an empty spot in a corner of the cavern with a stone pillar at his back. It was an excellent position, with support behind him and an unobstructed view of the passage ahead.
He took a half-burned charcoal stick from his robes, then pulled out an old wooden board he carried with him. Bending over, he scratched several words onto it.
[Clumsy Strength Art, three taels of silver.]
He had thought up the name on the way here. This art was the crudest scrap peeled from the Indestructible Vajra Body—a method that taught people how to tense their flesh and muscles and how to hold their breath and exert force. It could give ordinary people a bit more brute strength, but it was separated from true martial cultivation by a hundred and eight thousand miles.
The thing itself was genuine; its effects were simply limited. Yet to the common people struggling to survive in the Ghost Market, it might already be a rare path forward.
Three taels of silver was not cheap, but it was just enough to filter out those idle folk who only wanted to take advantage of him.
He propped the wooden board up in front of himself, then sat cross-legged. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed, his entire person seeming to melt into the stone pillar's shadow.
Time flowed slowly amid the clamor.
From time to time, someone stopped and pointed at the wooden board, letting out a few mocking laughs.
"Clumsy Strength Art? Now that's an honest name."
"Three taels of silver? This kid's gone mad dreaming of money!"
Ye Qingxuan paid them no mind, his body perfectly still.
After an unknown length of time, a figure stopped in front of his stall. The man was short and stout, wearing a broad bamboo hat that hid most of his face.
He stared at the wooden board for a long while before speaking in a muffled voice. "This 'Clumsy Strength Art' of yours—what sort of method is it? Tell me a thing or two. If it makes sense, we can discuss the price."
Ye Qingxuan did not even lift his eyelids. He merely spat out three words from beneath his face cloth.
"Money first, goods later."
The short, stout man gave a low chuckle deep in his throat. "Young man, that's not how business is done in the Ghost Market. You have to let the customer inspect the goods before he can make an offer, don't you?"
Ye Qingxuan said nothing more, like a stone statue.
Silence was the most direct refusal.
The short, stout man waited a while. Seeing that he received no reaction at all, he found himself rebuffed and shook his head before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
The little clash stirred no great waves, but it did draw another gaze.
A burly man had somehow appeared in front of the stall. His face was covered in a tangled beard, and his large, bell-like eyes swept up and down over Ye Qingxuan. The reek of cheap liquor mixed with sweat washed over him.
"'Clumsy Strength Art,' selling for three taels of silver?" The big man's voice was as harsh as a broken gong, thick with mockery. "Kid, are you selling a method for eating two extra bowls of rice?"
Several idlers nearby burst into laughter.
Only then did Ye Qingxuan slowly open his eyes and meet the man's gaze. The fellow had broad palms, with calluses covering every knuckle. At a glance, he was clearly a martial practitioner who made his living through sheer strength.
"It can increase strength." Ye Qingxuan's voice was hoarse, deliberately lowered.
"Bullshit!" The bearded man spat on the ground. "In this Ghost Market, nine out of ten people selling cultivation arts are swindlers. You pay money and take home several sheets of waste paper teaching you how to bask in the sun and how to visualize. How am I supposed to know yours isn't another scam?"
"You don't." Ye Qingxuan's answer was so direct that it caught him off guard.
The bearded man froze. He had expected the other party to argue glibly for a while.
"So you admit you're cheating people?"
"I'm selling. You're buying." Ye Qingxuan pointed at the wooden board in front of him. "The price is written there."
The bearded man narrowed his eyes. This masked man was too calm. If he was not a fool fresh out of the gate, then he was a tough customer with something to rely on.
"Let me inspect the goods first."
"Three taels of silver."
"What if it's fake?"
"Consider it bad luck."
"In the Ghost Market, selling counterfeit goods gets your hands chopped off!" The big man's tone darkened, his words carrying a threat.
"You can try." The hand Ye Qingxuan had placed on his knee moved ever so slightly.
It was an exceedingly subtle movement, yet it made the air around them suddenly draw taut.
Several nearby onlookers instinctively backed away a few steps, clearing an open space. They had smelled gunpowder.
The bearded man sized up Ye Qingxuan. He was slender, but his seated posture was steady as a rock. His eyes, exposed beyond the face cloth, were dark and deep, without the slightest trace of panic.
"Words without action are all empty." The big man bared a mouthful of yellow teeth. "You say your cultivation art can increase strength? Fine! Then let me see how strong you are!"
Before his voice had even faded, he abruptly slammed the thick elbow of his right arm onto a stone chest beside him that served as a table. With a bang, a cloud of dust billowed up.
"Arm wrestling!" His voice boomed like a bell as he pointed at Ye Qingxuan. "You. With me. Right here!"
The crowd stirred. This was the most common—and most direct—way to settle disputes in the Ghost Market.
"If you can hold out against me for ten breaths, I'll believe your cultivation art has some merit, and I'll pay the three taels!" Iron Arm Hu swept his gaze around, spittle flying. "But if you can't hold out... Hmph! You'll kneel and kowtow three times, admit you're a swindler, and then get the hell out of the Ghost Market!"
He cupped his fists toward the crowd. "Everyone here is a witness!"
Every gaze focused on Ye Qingxuan.
The stakes were undeniably heavy. This bearded man, known as Iron Arm Hu, had some renown in the Ghost Market. His sinews and bones had been hardened through brutal training, and he possessed boundless strength. Among those present, few dared boast that they could beat him at arm wrestling.
Ye Qingxuan's gaze swept over the man's arm, nearly as thick as his own thigh, then fell back to himself.
He said nothing, merely rising to his feet in silence.
He was slightly taller than the big man, but his frame appeared far thinner.
He walked to the stone chest and, beneath everyone's watchful eyes, slowly rolled up the sleeve of his right arm.
His arm lacked the bulging muscles of the bearded man's. Its skin was smooth, yet beneath the firelight it revealed a strange texture, like warm, polished jade that concealed the force of a thousand jun beneath it.
He placed his elbow firmly on the stone chest and faced the big man.
"Only ten breaths?" Ye Qingxuan's hoarse voice rang out, impossible to read.
Iron Arm Hu threw his head back and laughed. "What? Afraid you won't last even ten breaths?"
Ye Qingxuan did not answer. He merely raised his right hand.
Iron Arm Hu's grin deepened. His great fan-like hand reached out and seized Ye Qingxuan's. All five fingers exerted force, closing like iron pincers as he tried to give this ignorant brat a lesson right from the start.
But the expected sound of bones breaking never came.
That hand was hard as iron and steady as a mountain. It did not budge at all beneath his full-strength grip.
The smile on Iron Arm Hu's face stiffened slightly.
He increased the force in his hand again. Blue veins bulged along his arm like coiling horned dragons.
Ye Qingxuan's hand remained rock-steady.
"Have you started yet?" someone in the crowd shouted impatiently.
A low growl rumbled from Iron Arm Hu's throat. "Count!"
He leaned his upper body forward and drove power through his waist and back. A colossal force surged along his arm and suddenly pressed downward!
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