The Ghost Market, Liansheng Sect

In a blink, the third day arrived.

At the first light of dawn, Chen Zhuo rose and changed into a set of plain robes he had prepared in advance. He slung a bamboo hat over his back and, after tucking his long saber into his waistband, stepped out of his door with a leisurely air.

Upon reaching the main gate, he claimed he was heading out for kitchen provisions. The yamen guards, finding nothing amiss, let him pass without a word.

Once out on the main street, Chen Zhuo did not leave immediately. Instead, he turned toward the yamen's designated shed and led out a donkey cart.

"It's fortunate you're humble and unremarkable enough that no one bothered to target you and slaughter you for a meal."

Chen Zhuo patted the little black donkey's back and fed it a carrot with a smile.

Pfft. Pfft.

The black donkey snorted twice and cast a sidelong glance at him.

Chen Zhuo hitched the donkey to the cart, walked a short distance, and then climbed aboard, heading straight toward the north of the outer city.

The Ghost Market opened four times a month. According to Senior Brother Yan, it would open tonight in the north of the outer city.

The donkey cart rolled slowly along the wide streets of the inner city. Chen Zhuo sat atop it, his body swaying gently with the jolts of the cart.

The morning glow flickered on the horizon, and the streets of the inner city were deserted.

But as soon as he reached the outer city, the bustle of daily life hit him instantly. The streets grew narrow, yet the crowds swelled.

From time to time, the cries of street vendors drifted over.

In the real world, there was little room for decadence; there was only the endless grind for survival.

Passing a noodle stall, Chen Zhuo's nostrils twitched, and he decisively hopped off the cart.

With a wave of his hand, he ordered five large bowls of wide noodles. The stall owner looked slightly surprised but said nothing, as if he were already accustomed to such things.

Two tables away from Chen Zhuo, a diner had already stacked seven or eight large bowls on her table.

She was a woman.

The other diners couldn't help but cast glances her way, and Chen Zhuo was no exception.

The woman had sharp, defined features, a high nose bridge, and lustrous, wheat-toned skin. A thick, glossy black braid was wrapped around her neck.

Every now and then, the braid would slip, and she would toss it back over her shoulder without a care, continuing to eat her noodles.

In the intervals between bites, Chen Zhuo noticed a large fish creel strapped to her waist, swaying with her movements.

"Another bowl."

With a clack, an empty bowl was added to the already towering stack.

The woman's voice was low and slightly raspy.

The stall owner didn't reply but hurried over, looking troubled. "Customer... we've run out of bowls."

The woman waved a hand without even looking up.

The owner scrambled to gather the empty bowls, carefully retreating into the stall.

For those who practiced martial arts, the deeper their cultivation, the greater their appetite. Judging by her physique, she was no weakling.

Chen Zhuo withdrew his gaze and stopped looking around.

"Check."

After finishing the noodles, Chen Zhuo tossed the money onto the table, stood up, and led his cart away from the stall.

He looked up at the sky; the morning glow had fully emerged.

The Ghost Market was likely opening right about now.

"You've been eating well and looking sturdy these past few days, so why are you so sluggish?"

"Get moving!"

Chen Zhuo jumped onto the cart, donned his bamboo hat, and urged the black donkey on without mercy.

The donkey seemed to understand him perfectly, turning its head to roll its eyes at him.

Smack! Chen Zhuo landed a solid slap on the donkey's rump.

"Hurry up."

"Hee-haw! Hee-haw!"

Stung, the black donkey broke into a frantic gallop.

Before long, the donkey had pulled the cart through eighteen streets, finally coming to a halt atop a wide arched bridge.

Standing at the crest of the bridge, Chen Zhuo's view suddenly opened up. Looking down, he saw a river running through the outer city, flanked by clusters of dilapidated grass huts huddled together to form a low-lying shantytown.

The area was teeming with people, a constant stream of traffic flowing through.

Even from this distance, he could faintly hear the cries of vendors.

In all of Baiyun County, the area near the north of the outer city was the most crowded, the poorest, and the most chaotic. But the Ghost Market was not bound by a fixed location; as long as there were buyers, there would be sellers.

Chen Zhuo did not linger and immediately drove the cart down toward the settlement.

At this moment, two people with black scarves covering their faces and wearing black robes walked up to him, blocking his path. They clasped their hands together and said, "Pity us mortals, for our suffering is truly great."

"Benefactor, the road ahead is fraught with hardship. Would you like to invite a Venerable Duku to protect you from all worries?"

As they spoke, one of the black-robed figures lifted his robe and extended a wooden statue.

Carved upon it was a deity with three heads and four arms, a coiling serpent around its head, and a stern countenance.

Liansheng Sect...

Chen Zhuo nodded slightly, not surprised. He reached out and took the statue, then took twenty coins from his waist and handed them over.

"Thank you, Benefactor. May the Venerable protect you."

After receiving the money, the black-robed figure clasped his hands in thanks and stepped aside, clearing the path forward.

Chen Zhuo no longer rode the donkey cart. He took the reins and led the little black donkey forward.

After only a few steps, he heard a commotion from behind. He turned his head and saw the two black-robed figures approaching another person, repeating the same actions they had just performed on him.

"Pity us mortals?"

Chen Zhuo lowered his head and looked at the wooden carving in his hand, a cold sneer forming in his heart.

Twenty coins, enough to buy over a pound of pork, yet...

He had exchanged it for this.

"One sect, three gangs, five schools. The Liansheng Sect truly lives up to its reputation for always being one step ahead of the Long River Gang. Just by controlling the Ghost Market, they rake in a fortune, not to mention the daily offerings from their believers."

Chen Zhuo shook his head inwardly.

The Liansheng Sect had existed in Baiyun County for who knew how many years. They were powerful and wealthy. If not for the yamen above them, Baiyun County would have long since become their private domain.

He had heard a lot about the Ghost Market from Yan Ming these past two days, which was why he was not surprised by the actions of the two black-robed figures just now.

The entire Ghost Market was the private property of the Liansheng Sect.

As his thoughts swirled, Chen Zhuo slowly walked in.

The streets were lined with all sorts of stalls, each displaying a dazzling array of goods that could easily overwhelm the eye.

Medicinal herbs, artifacts, furs, demon bones...

As Chen Zhuo walked, he found that he had never seen more than half of the items.

However, he did not linger out of curiosity. Instead, he quickened his pace, heading towards his intended destination.

Unexpectedly, halfway there, his path was blocked by a prisoner transport cart filled with people.

"It's not a prisoner transport cart."

Chen Zhuo moved closer and saw that on top of the flatbed cart was an iron cage, larger than a prisoner transport cart.

He hadn't counted, but a rough estimate suggested there were at least ten people inside.

"Make way."

The person in charge was a square-faced, burly man, shouting at the crowd and waving them away.

After pulling the donkey cart to the side, Chen Zhuo was pushed to the roadside by the crowd. He looked at the man again and was suddenly surprised.

"This person... looks so familiar?"

Chen Zhuo pondered for a moment and recalled that this square-faced, burly man should be a swordsman from the Long River Gang.

Not long ago, in the northern outer city, several swordsmen had tried to kill him.

He had killed four of them. Except for Huang Sanyou, who died in the yamen, only one had survived.

He remembered that the one who survived had his entire arm severed at the root.

Chen Zhuo peered closely.

Indeed.

The square-faced, burly man's other arm was empty at the root. Even with some concealment, it was obvious that one hand was missing.

Chen Zhuo frowned slightly, then slowly relaxed.

He knew that Huang Yuan'er indeed had the ability to get this person out of the yamen, so he wasn't surprised.

But now...

Chen Zhuo's eyes, hidden beneath his straw hat, swept coldly over the square-faced man, then gradually shifted backward.

He became curious. Why was the Long River Gang so openly transporting so many people in an iron cage?

Chen Zhuo's gaze fell upon the iron cage. As his eyes focused on the interior, his pupils suddenly contracted.

"Aren't these people all..."