Taihang Market, western free-stall area.
The sun had just passed its zenith, the busiest time for rogue cultivators to set up and pack away their stalls.
Chen Ping hunched his shoulders and searched through the packed crowd for a long while before finding a gap in the corner just wide enough for one person to sit cross-legged.
With practiced speed, he spread out a piece of gray cloth washed nearly white, then carefully took three talismans from his robes and arranged them in a triangular pattern.
The talisman paper was somewhat crumpled, and on close inspection, the vermilion lines showed signs of hesitation and discontinuity. Their Spiritual Light was even dimmer, as though it might go out at any moment.
Chen Ping took a wooden placard from his sleeve and propped it up beside him. A crooked line of writing read:
Purification Talismans, two Fragmented Spirit Stones each.
Once he had finished, he sat cross-legged and tucked his hands into his sleeves. His expression remained placid as still water, but inside his sleeves, his fingers unconsciously rubbed the cold mechanism of his Sleeve Dart.
This was his first time turning his "craft" into money. Whether he succeeded or failed would affect the lives of him and Yun Niang.
"Well, well. New around here?"
At the stall beside his, a scruffy old cultivator in a ragged Daoist robe shot him a sidelong glance.
Several bottles of low-grade pills sat before him, but business was dead.
The old cultivator's eyes swept over Chen Ping's three pitiful-looking talismans. He snorted, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
"Little Daoist friend, did you draw those with your feet? The spiritual resonance is all choppy. They'll probably catch fire as soon as you stick them on. Two Fragmented Spirit Stones? Toss them on the ground, and