"High-Grade Essence Restoration Pills! One pill lasts three days!"
"An ancestral flying sword! Second only to an Immortal Artifact!"
"Spirit grain buns! Freshly baked spirit grain buns!"
Xie Changsheng stood at the entrance to the Market.
The cries of street vendors, footsteps, the laughter of playing children...
It was noisy.
Much noisier than the mine tunnels.
What did tens of thousands of reincarnations feel like?
Death had long since become the least of it.
What truly gnawed at him was the law deep within his Dao Eyes.
That was not something he should have touched.
At least, not at his current cultivation realm.
Time.
Every rewind tore at the boundaries of his soul.
It toyed with his memories, muddled cause and effect, and ground the existence called "Xie Changsheng" to pieces, bit by bit.
He frowned slightly and looked down at himself.
He was covered in blood and filth, still carrying a chipped sword.
Going in like this did not seem very appropriate.
So he turned around, crouched beside a stream outside the Market, slowly washed his face, and scrubbed his hands.
Blood stained the stream red and drifted downstream with the current.
In the distance, a woman washing clothes jumped at the sight of the red water, picked up her wooden basin, and left, cursing.
Xie Changsheng paid her no mind.
He washed very carefully, even picking the crusted blood out from under his fingernails.
When he finished, he stood up and walked toward the Market.
There was a shabby tea stall in a corner of the Market.
Xie Changsheng walked over and sat down.
The proprietor was an old man. His hands trembled at the bloody aura around Xie Changsheng, but he still brought over a bowl of his cheapest coarse tea.
Xie Changsheng took a sip,