Changes in the Market District, a Summons

The cold mist of Green Vine Ravine wrapped around time as six months flowed by in silence. Having just received a summons, Lu Zhao was recalling his experiences over the past half year.

Half a year earlier, Lu Zhao had shortened the interval between his trips to Zhou Household Market from once every three months to once a month.

Whenever he went out, the Storage Bag at his waist invariably held four newly made Frost Rat Puppets and one Flowing Cloud Sparrow-the "eyes" and "claws" tacitly understood between him and the shopkeeper of Nine Abyss Pavilion.

Their transactions always took place before the counter steeped in the heavy scent of wood at Nine Abyss Pavilion. As the old shopkeeper inspected the puppets with his withered fingers, his gaze was somewhat keener than before.

Once the Spirit Stones changed hands, Lu Zhao would always strike up a seemingly casual conversation. The topics wound this way and that, finally settling on news from beyond Changfeng Commandery, developments within the Zhou Household, and... those subtle, barely perceptible fluctuations in the Market District.

Like a watchful spider, he quietly spread the threads of his divine sense. The stalls in the Market District's eastern quarter were a place he never failed to visit.

He squatted before Hu San's pile of fangs still clinging with rat fur, listening to the one-eyed man complain that the trading firms buying pelts were driving prices down too ruthlessly; he went to the talisman stall in the West Market and watched Old Huang scrape the old price off the Spirit-Cleansing Talisman's wooden placard with a worried face and carve in a new figure, muttering, "Talisman paper's gone up another five percent."

His fingertips brushed over the newly carved price of spirit grain rice on the rice shop's blue stone slab. He even kept an eye on the old rogue cultivator selling medicinal powders for injuries in the corner. Every fluctuation in price was a key through which he sensed changes in the outside world.

The first two months were so uneventful that they weighed on his heart. The Market District remained noisy, its crowds weaving to and fro, and the rough laughter and curses of cultivators who hunted beasts still carried far.

The old shopkeeper of Nine Abyss Pavilion flicked his abacus beads, offering only stock phrases about open trade routes and plentiful goods during their conversations.

The price of spirit rice remained firmly carved into the blue stone slab, and Spirit-Recovery Pills were priced as they had always been.

Lu Zhao silently purchased what he needed and directed his puppets back to the valley, yet with each confirmation that things were "as usual," the invisible string in his heart tightened another notch without a sound.

When he stepped onto the Market District's stone platform in the third month, that string was abruptly plucked.

The anomaly came not from the center of the bustle, but from the rice shop in the corner. On the blue stone slab marked "low-grade spirit rice," the old lettering had been forcibly scraped away, and the newly carved figure was a full five percent higher!

Several familiar low-ranking rogue cultivators gathered in a corner, their sighs spreading like damp moss. "Spirit rice has gone up... if this keeps on, the Ironclaw Mountain Cats I kill won't even buy me two full meals!"

Lu Zhao betrayed nothing. When he went to Nine Abyss Pavilion to hand over his puppets, the shopkeeper's gaze lingered a moment longer as he examined the Flowing Cloud Sparrow's bone wings. His withered fingers tapped unconsciously on the counter before he slowly said, "Fellow Daoist Lu, next month's wind-pattern stone... may arrive a little late. The merchant caravan upstream has been delayed."

Lu Zhao paid for black iron and ironwood-sure enough, they too had risen by five percent-and nodded without asking another question.

The mountain wind struck his face on the return journey, colder than the chill mist of Green Vine Ravine. The news would soon be impossible to suppress. He looked at the old vines hanging motionless on the sheer mountain walls to either side, his gaze heavy as iron.

In the fourth month, when Lu Zhao returned to the Market District, a chill surrounded him before the mountain wind did. There were fewer people. The shoulder-to-shoulder crowds and boiling clamor around the stone platform were gone, leaving it looking almost desolately spacious.

When he entered Nine Abyss Pavilion, a different sort of stagnation had mingled with that heavy scent of wood.

The shopkeeper took the three Frost Rat Puppets and one Flowing Cloud Sparrow he offered, inspecting them distractedly as his cloudy eyes kept darting toward the sparse figures outside.

After handing over the Spirit Stones, he merely said dryly, "Take care, Fellow Daoist Lu. Today... I'm beset by little matters, so I won't keep you."

Lu Zhao nodded silently and joined the deserted streets. This time, he walked more slowly, his gaze like a carving knife as he branded every number on every price tag deep into his mind.

At the talisman stall, the Body-Protection Talisman's price board had likewise been updated, with a shocking increase-fifty percent! Even the old rogue cultivator in the corner selling basic medicinal powders for injuries had raised his prices by fifty percent.

The Zhou Household guards patrolling the Market District had tripled in number. Every one of them wore a grim face, hands resting on the saber hilts at their waists as their gazes swept back and forth, sharp as blades.

Cultivators hurried along, keeping their voices extremely low when they spoke to one another, their eyes shifting warily like birds startled by a bowstring. Worry was written on every face that hurried past.

"Have you heard? Orders have come down from the Zhou Household's higher-ups. They're taking stock of their stores and requisitioning spirit materials..."

"These prices... they're practically drinking our blood! If this goes on, how the hell are poor bastards like us supposed to cultivate..."

"There's going to be a war. There's definitely going to be a war! Who the hell can bear to spend money now? Everyone's stockpiling talismans, pills, and things to keep themselves alive!"

"Ah, when immortals fight, little fish and shrimp like us..."

Lu Zhao passed silently through the streets and returned to Green Vine Ravine faster than ever before. Wind howled past his ears. Three years? In the end, I won't be able to stay in Green Vine Ravine for three years!

His fifth visit to the Market District began amid a suffocating deathly silence, like the stillness before a mountain storm. The instant he stepped into the streets, that nearly stagnant chill struck him in the face. Empty-everywhere he looked, there was an emptiness that left his heart unsettled.

More than thirty percent of the stall spaces stood empty. At most of the remaining stalls, the vendors wore wooden expressions, staring blankly at their wares or simply dozing, unable even to muster the energy to call out to the sparse passersby.

There were now fewer than half as many cultivators walking about as when Lu Zhao had first come to this Market District! Those who remained moved faster, their gazes parting the instant they met. They hurriedly bought what they needed, then lowered their heads and rushed away.

Inside Nine Abyss Pavilion, the desolation was even greater. Only one attendant was at work in the vast shop.

The old shopkeeper stood alone behind the counter, a handful of counting rods in his hand, though his gaze had wandered into some unknown void.

"Fellow Daoist Lu... you're here." His voice was dry and hoarse.

Lu Zhao took out three Frost Rat Puppets and one Flowing Cloud Sparrow as before. The transaction was swift, and words had become scarce.

Once the transaction was complete, Lu Zhao put away the Spirit Stones but did not hurry to leave. Seemingly offhand, he spoke in a voice low enough for only the two of them to hear. "Shopkeeper, the market is so desolate, yet prices have risen even more outrageously."

The shopkeeper glanced at him and spoke in that dry voice. "Three days ago, the Zhao Family of Tianfang Commandery sent elite forces charging deep into Changfeng Commandery!"

"The Wuliu Xue Family and the Jinshui Sun Family, not far from Heavencloud Mountain's northern foothills... and other small families affiliated with the lineage were slaughtered on the spot. Their stores of Spirit Stones and pills were looted clean. Their cultivators... probably sixty or seventy percent were killed or wounded!

"Even the nearby Blue Stone Market, which catered specifically to them, was breached and plundered as well!

"The Zhou Household... was furious. I heard several of the elders in charge went green with rage. They've already begun sending people to the various affiliated families with urgent orders..."

"The call-up for Guest Elders like you is coming too..."

Every word was an Ice Cone chiseling into Lu Zhao's heart. The Tianfang Zhao Family had made its move, so directly, so ruthlessly! The Zhou Household's counterattack would be a sweeping mobilization that engulfed everything!

The peace of Green Vine Ravine... just as I expected, it's over. Little changed on Lu Zhao's face. He merely nodded almost imperceptibly. "Thank you for the warning, shopkeeper."

He hurried back to Green Vine Ravine, fierce winds striking his face all the way. Returning to the familiar stone house, he quietly opened the formation. Rather than immediately cultivating or making puppets as usual, he stood motionless, his heavy gaze sweeping over this simple stone chamber where he had already spent two years.

This temporary refuge was already a phantom in the eye of the storm. He probably had few good days left here. After a moment, he sat cross-legged and slowly circulated his spiritual power according to the Little Spirit Rain Art's formula, absorbing spiritual energy into his dantian.

Time was more precious than Spirit Stones. Even accumulating one more thread of strength now might allow him to wrest a sliver of survival from the raging tides ahead!

Sure enough, fewer than ten days passed.

That day, the white mist at the valley floor remained damp, cold, and thick. Stirred by the mountain wind, it flowed slowly like a pale, silent living creature. Lu Zhao abruptly opened his eyes as he sat cross-legged inside the stone chamber!

Buzz! A voice-transmission talisman flew toward him!

A vast, cold voice, devoid of emotion yet striking his chest like a heavy hammer, exploded deep within his sea of consciousness. "Guest Elder Lu Zhao, you are ordered to report at once to the Zhou Clan Retainer Pavilion for roll call and orders! You have three days. Failure to arrive before the deadline will be deemed treason!"