Lin Changheng's eyes flickered. He crouched and scooped up a handful of soil, then contacted the Origin Cauldron in his sea of consciousness, but received no response.
He could not help shaking his head.
He drew a deep breath through his nose, but could not detect even a trace of lingering Demon Beast blood. Perhaps a hundred years had dispersed it all, or perhaps the story was nothing more than a tale fabricated in the streets.
"Fellow Daoist, please pay the spirit stone entrance fee."
After he took a few more steps, a mild voice sounded. Only then did Lin Changheng notice a squad of cultivators in short tunics stationed behind a boulder, all at least at mid-Qi refining.
Their faces were covered, but their eyes were sharp and their bodies radiated killing intent. They were not people to cross.
Behind them lay a quiet valley, without a soul in sight.
Yet Lin Changheng could sense the faint fluctuations of a formation.
"Very well."
Lin Changheng had already pieced together the general situation at the teahouse and knew what to expect. After paying the spirit stones, he passed through the formation.
Ripples shimmered like water, and everything changed at once.
Ahead of him stretched an enormous square of red earth.
Long tables stood end to end in a layout like nested squares, with all manner of goods displayed on them. Each had a person stationed behind it, forming a stall.
At a glance, there had to be sixty or seventy.
Passageways had been left between them for people to walk through.
A quick sweep revealed at least several dozen people browsing and picking through the goods.
But they all had one thing in common: loose, voluminous robes, face coverings, and bamboo hats that concealed both their original builds and their