Nighttime Ghost Market! Five Blades, Three Sets of Armor!

The matter of killing Great Western Army soldiers and obtaining their blades was not something to be publicized. Without alerting anyone, Su Haoran quietly left the Labor Courtyard under cover of night and went to a concealed crack in the rocks on the back mountain that he had marked long ago.

After moving aside the scattered stones used as camouflage, a tightly oilcloth-wrapped bundle was revealed.

Opening it, he found the spoils he had seized from the three defeated Great Western Army soldiers: five finely made standard-issue steel blades and three sets of padded armor.

He packed everything up again, tied it to his back with a thick hemp rope, then draped a roomy old Monk Robe over it for concealment before setting off.

He already knew the road down the mountain like the back of his hand.

Rather than taking the noisy main road, Su Haoran silently left the grounds of Prajna Temple.

By the time dawn broke, the outline of Qingshi City was already visible ahead.

Following the directions Zeng Qiu had deliberately left him before departing, Su Haoran did not enter the city. Instead, he circled around to a broad stretch of riverside flats south of the city.

This was the location of Xunri Market.

As its name suggested, the market opened once every ten days and was the largest gathering place for trade across the surrounding villages.

By the time Su Haoran arrived, the riverbank was already a roaring sea of voices and bustle.

Farmers carried shoulder poles laden with the small amounts of grain and vegetables grown in their fields; hunters spread out animal hides covered with dried game and furs; artisans sold handmade bamboo wares, clay jars, and other household goods.

As far as the eye could see, it was a peaceful scene of trade, no different from any ordinary market.

With the bundle on his back, Su Haoran walked through the crowd at an unhurried pace. He appeared to be browsing, but was secretly observing everything around him.

He found an old man selling medicinal herbs and asked seemingly casually, "Elder, I have some old family heirlooms that I'd like to exchange for silver. Is there a shop in this market that specifically buys antiques and old goods?"

The old man looked Su Haoran over. Though he wore a tattered Monk Robe, he stood straight and had steady eyes, unlike an ordinary laborer. Lowering his voice, the old man said, "Young man, you look like someone who understands the ropes. Xunri Market has a daytime side and a nighttime side. If those 'old goods' of yours can't see the light of day, come back after dark."

Su Haoran understood at once. After thanking him, he found an inconspicuous corner, sat down cross-legged, closed his eyes, and quietly waited.

Time slowly passed, and the sun slanted westward.

The vendors selling ordinary wares during the day gradually packed up their things and left with their shoulder poles.

The once-noisy riverbank thinned out as the crowds dispersed, becoming increasingly deserted.

Yet when the last ray of daylight vanished beneath the horizon and night fell, the riverbank grew noisy once more.

Figures emerged from the darkness one after another, like ghosts.

Most wore bamboo hats or covered their faces with black cloth. They moved without a sound, skillfully spreading cloth over the previous Open Spaces and laying out their goods.

Dim candlelight flickered to life, illuminating the things displayed on the stalls.

Su Haoran rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over them.

The stalls held all manner of goods, most of them contraband rarely seen in ordinary markets.

There were bundles of arrows, swords and blades polished to an oily sheen, and even several complete sets of armor.

Elsewhere, people were selling military supplies such as tung oil and ox sinew.

Farther away, some stalls displayed small porcelain bottles with labels reading "Trauma Powder," "Qi Recovery Powder," "Soul Bewitching Incense," and the like—clearly medicines of dubious origin.

The entire market was steeped in a dangerous air of tension, oppression, and temptation.

This was the true face of Xunri Market.

Su Haoran took a deep breath, pulled the hood of his Monk Robe lower to hide most of his face, and quickly fixed his eyes on a stall specializing in weapons and armor.

The stall owner was a burly man with a piece of black cloth covering his face. Several ring-pommel blades and two battered leather shields lay on display before him.

Su Haoran walked up to the stall and got straight to the point. "Do you buy goods?"

"Depends what you've got."

The masked stall owner glanced at the bulging bundle on Su Haoran's back and replied in a hoarse voice.

"Five blades, three sets of armor," Su Haoran said flatly.

Interest flickered in the stall owner's eyes.

"What condition?"

"Government-made. Ninety percent new."

"Oh?" The stall owner gave an unreadable snort and held up three fingers. "Thirty taels. I'll take it all."

Su Haoran sneered inwardly at once.

Thirty taels? Was he trying to fob off a beggar?

A well-maintained government-made steel blade was worth at least fifteen taels of silver on the black market. The three sets of padded armor together should fetch seventy or eighty taels at the very least.

"At that price, you can buy kitchen knives at most." Su Haoran shook his head.

"Heh, young man, you talk big." The stall owner sneered and leaned forward slightly. "Who knows which unlucky bastard you stripped these goods from? If they're stolen military goods leaked from a camp, and the authorities trace them back, heads will roll. I'm taking the risk here. This price is already fair."

"Risk?" Su Haoran asked. "You do business here, and you're afraid of risk?"

"It's not that I'm afraid. You are." The stall owner leaned back in his chair with the air of someone who had nothing to fear. "Since you're not afraid, take them out and let me have a look. If it's scrap copper and rotten iron, don't blame me for speaking ugly words first."

The owners of several surrounding stalls also turned their gazes over, clearly eager to watch the show.

In a place like this, bullying newcomers was commonplace.

If Su Haoran showed even the slightest weakness, he likely would not merely fail to sell his goods today—both he and his wares might be buried here.

Yet Su Haoran showed no trace of nervousness. Calmly, he untied the bundle from his back, set it before the stall, and slowly unfolded the oilcloth.

Five steel blades and three sets of padded armor were laid out in neat order.

Beneath the dim light, the blades reflected a cold, chilling gleam. They had clearly been kept in excellent condition.

The stall owner's eyes narrowed slightly, though several traces of disdain remained.

He had seen plenty of government-made goods.

He casually picked up one of the steel blades, intending to weigh it in his hand and inspect its edge.

Su Haoran did not stop him. He merely extended a finger and lightly brushed the end of the hilt.

A clear insignia was revealed beneath the grime that had concealed it.

A design formed by two antlers.

The stall owner's pupils contracted!

"Hiss—"

It was not only him. The expressions of the nearby stall owners who had been watching the spectacle all changed the instant they saw the antler insignia.

Their gazes toward Su Haoran gained a hint of wariness.

The Great Western Army!

They knew that insignia all too well.

It was the mark of the Great Western Army, which had swept across several provinces in recent years and repeatedly sent even the imperial army retreating in defeat!

And judging from the bloodstains and wear on the blade, these were not military supplies being resold. They were truly vicious spoils seized from the battlefield.

The burly stall owner no longer dared show the slightest contempt. Rubbing the hilt in his hand again and again, he tentatively said, "These goods..."

"How much can you offer for them?"

Su Haoran slowly drew the blade back from his hand, placed it back into the bundle without the slightest air of aggression, and spoke in the same calm tone.