Chuanwu Market

"Sister Zhou Ying? Do you mean Senior Sister Li Zhouying?"

Jiang Yang had entered and left Dawn Rain Peak under this Senior Sister Li's arrangements, even blundering into the formation in a farcical misunderstanding. How could he have forgotten that name?

Shang Qingzheng bent down and lifted Little Sixteen from the ground onto her lap. After racing through the drizzle for so long, the little creature's fur had not caught a single drop of rain. While playing, Little Sixteen had seemed perfectly ordinary, but now the wondrous bloodline of a noble breed showed through.

Stroking Little Sixteen's intricately patterned back, Shang Qingzheng nodded and said:

"That's right. Sister Zhou Ying is my master's personal maid. Although her cultivation isn't high, she manages the affairs of the entire peak. Her position is special, and the True Person trusts her deeply."

Shang Qingzheng showed no surprise that Jiang Yang knew Li Zhouying. After all, Li Zhouying had assigned the work of tending this peak's jade bamboo. It was only natural that the two had met.

"Oh... so that's her background..."

Understanding dawned on Jiang Yang's face. He was on someone else's turf, after all, tending these seedlings every day with his heart in his throat. Yet since making the arrangements, Senior Sister Li had never visited even once. He wondered whether she simply did not care or was remarkably untroubled.

He still vividly remembered her chilling words back then. It seemed their next encounter would have to wait until the inspection.

Shang Qingzheng stayed a little longer before taking her leave, drifting gracefully away with Little Sixteen in her arms.

An hour passed. The curtain of rain gradually lifted, and the lingering clouds dispersed, allowing brilliant sunlight to spill over the ground once more.

The girl always came from deep within the bamboo grove and departed through billowing mist and rain.

Her temperament was gentle with a playful streak, and her beauty was unrivaled by anyone Jiang Yang had seen, in either his previous life or this one.

Although Jiang Yang never said so, he felt quite warmly toward Shang Qingzheng. He simply kept getting the impression that she harbored some secret worries, mysterious and hidden, as though she dared not even enjoy happiness to the fullest.

They had not known each other long yet, and despite his curiosity, Jiang Yang had never asked.

Hmph, with no woman in my heart, my sword will strike like a god! I'm going to command a dao fruit someday—how could I achieve greatness by lingering over beauty?

Noticing the unusual stirrings in his heart, Jiang Yang gave an inward snort and a little pep talk.

His task of tending the spirit bamboo was finished for the day. Bored out of his mind, he held Finger-Sword Awakening of Insects but could barely focus on it, so he simply put it back into his Storage Bag.

Standing up, Jiang Yang muttered to himself:

"How about taking a look around Market Ward?"

He had wanted to visit for some time, but his duties had always kept him busy. Now that over a month had passed, the bamboo seedlings had taken root and anchored the soil. He only needed to watch out for borer insects, rather than staying by them every day as before.

Once the thought arose, he could no longer suppress it. If he wanted to go, he would go. Jiang Yang turned and prepared to head down the mountain.

He waved his waist token before the formation, stepped through, and made straight for Market Ward below.

He sped along the mountain path. The closest Market Ward was the one he had passed before, situated between Cold Creek Valley and Morning Rain Peak and named Chuanwu.

Market Ward was not large. Most of its visitors were disciples from Falling Rain, Morning Rain, and Marsh Rain Peaks. Since it lay deep within Xiang Mountain, disciples from other peaks rarely visited.

They preferred the larger Jade Grove Market, which lay on the outskirts of Rain Xiang Mountain and welcomed not only disciples of the sect but outside rogue cultivators as well.

It was therefore livelier, but also farther from Jiang Yang. He could not yet ride the wind in flight, so for this trip, he naturally chose the nearest option: Chuanwu.

Before long, the youth came racing up and stood before the Market Ward entrance, his blue robe vivid and a gray brocade pouch hanging at his waist. His clothes were hardly luxurious, but he cut a spirited, imposing figure.

Only an incense stick's worth of time had passed before Market Ward's mountain gate loomed before him. It stood twelve zhang tall, carved with intricate patterns, with the name "Chuanwu" inscribed above.

This is the place...

Jiang Yang glanced up at the gateway, then stepped inside.

"Whoosh..."

Passing through the barrier, which rippled like water, Jiang Yang seemed to enter a bustling bazaar in an instant, with people thronging everywhere and voices boiling all around him.

Outside Market Ward, Jiang Yang had barely seen anyone and had worried that it would be deserted. He had never expected it to be so lively inside. It truly opened his eyes.

Two broad streets crossed before him, crowded with people coming and going. Everywhere he looked, streams of people filled his view, while conversations and vendors' cries rang without pause.

It was Jiang Yang's first time seeing so many fellow disciples. Some wandered about, others occupied the stalls lining either side, and farther away, rows of multistory buildings rose amid the bustle.

"Blank talisman paper! Three Spirit Stones a dozen, ten Spirit Stones for three dozen! Honest prices for young and old alike—buy while you can!"

"Crimson sun grass, spiny vitex seed! Fully matured, full measures! Miss them now and they're gone!"

"Buying all varieties of spirit water and killing intent long-term. Prices negotiable."

"Essence-Establishing Pills, Essence-Nourishing Pills, Origin-Restoring Pills, Grain-Avoidance Pills! Limited stock, first come, first served!"

Jiang Yang followed the crowd slowly along the street, surrounded by cries advertising all manner of things, some familiar and some not. For a moment, he did not know where to look.

He had no particular goal, merely looking here and peering there, constantly feeling that one pair of eyes was not enough.

Everything I own amounts to only fifty Spirit Stones. I wonder what I can buy?

Jiang Yang studied the prices, one hand resting on his Storage Bag, looking for anything he currently needed.

Back in the Lower Court, he had received just one Spirit Stone a month and could never save any.

Now, his surroundings brimmed with spiritual energy, and he did not have to fight anyone for it. Naturally, he no longer needed to draw spiritual energy from Spirit Stones to supplement his cultivation, so Jiang Yang had saved all fifty.

After browsing more than a dozen stalls, Jiang Yang gradually realized that the small allowance of Spirit Stones issued by the sect still had some purchasing power.

It was neither a great deal nor very little. By his reckoning, he could buy several dozen low-level talismans, or a bottle or half a bottle of the medicinal pills he had long coveted. He was not rich, but neither was he destitute.

As for the magical artifacts he most looked forward to seeing, Jiang Yang had not spotted any at all. Presumably, they were expensive and sold only in the shops housed in those multistory buildings.

Still, given his current cultivation and magical power, even if someone handed him a magical artifact, he would not be able to wield it smoothly. He would have to reach at least the middle stage before he could sustain its consumption.

Jiang Yang had come mostly to broaden his horizons, so he remained cautious and restrained along the way, never asking about prices.

He reached the end of one street and found a crossroads ahead, where the crowd suddenly thinned considerably.

The street to the left was lined with multistory shops, each displaying a signboard with gold lettering. Most of those coming and going were cultivators in splendid clothes, their bodies radiant with spiritual light and the gleam of treasures.

To the right lay branching alleys, where a few disciples had set up stalls in scattered clusters. Unlike the cultivators he had seen earlier, these people were relatively quiet. They did not shout their wares, merely sitting cross-legged in silence.

Jiang Yang stopped at the crossroads. The left side consisted entirely of established storefronts. With his purse so thin, he could not stroll inside for leisurely discussions like those richly dressed disciples, so he had no choice but to turn right and take a look.

Though it was daytime, entering the alley reminded Jiang Yang of the Tianqiao ghost market he had visited with his father as a child. Even the occasional exchanges were hushed, with none of the noisy clamor.

At the first stall sat a disciple in blue who appeared middle-aged, with a short, squat build and a sparse beard. His blue enchanted robe was dull and filthy, as though he had neither changed nor washed it in a long time.

His stall held a heap of miscellaneous odds and ends: irregular stones, fragments of metal, pitch-black statues, strange scrolls, and other things Jiang Yang had never seen or heard of.

As soon as the middle-aged man saw Jiang Yang stop, he looked up and called out:

"Junior brother, junior brother, don't hurry away! Meeting means fate has brought us together. Come take a look at my stall."