With determination etched into his face, Xiang Yun moved with clear purpose, leaving behind the main streets and plunging into the winding alleys that led to the hidden heart of Glory City: the black market.
The air here was heavier, thick with the scent of cheap incense, exotic herbs, and the sweat of greed and desperation.
Daylight barely penetrated the space, forcing the stalls to be lit by flickering oil lamps that cast long, dancing shadows, creating an atmosphere of fear and danger.
"Flaming Serpent Essence! Only five thousand a bottle! Cures poison and hangovers!"
"Palm technique manual, Mid-Bronze Rank! Who wants it, huh? Last copy!"
"Enchanted masks! Hide your cultivation even from a Heavenly Master!"
"Silver-level demon beast bones! Straight from the Misty Mountains!"
"Restorative pills! Three for two thousand! Only today!"
He observed the local fauna with a disbelieving look. Clearly, many of the things there were fake. But if he got lucky, maybe he could find a treasure being sold as worthless.
The people there were also extremely cautious.
From the cut of the fabric and their posture, one could tell there were nobles and members of aristocratic families searching for forbidden treasures or rare ingredients they couldn't acquire openly.
Their cloaks, though dark, were made of silk and velvet. Beside them, commoners in old, patched clothing wandered around, eyes hungry—perhaps selling the last belonging of their family or searching for a low-level pill that might give them a spark of hope for a better life. But regardless of status, most had their faces covered.
Yet, there were those who didn't care.
He saw a young woman, not much older than him, her face covered with a thick layer of makeup, offering herself to a burly man for a few hundred coins. At another stall, a cultivator with a missing arm tried to sell a spear technique manual—likely his only inheritance.
It was the embodiment of the law of the jungle, the dark side that existed beneath Glory City's peaceful façade.
Xiang Yun slowly shook his head—not in judgment, but with a cold understanding of reality. Power determined everything. Without it, people were forced to such extremes. That only solidified his resolve never to be weak again.
His gaze swept over the stalls until it landed on one selling masks. There were dozens of them, representing gods, beasts, and mostly demons.
One mask, in particular, caught his attention. It covered the entire face, split perfectly in half. One side was pristine white and smooth, with an eye that looked serene; the other was a deep, textured black, with an eye carved into a silent expression of fury. From the top, two short black horns curved forward. Yin and Yang. Order and Chaos. He felt a strange affinity with the duality it represented.
"How much for this one?" he asked, voice neutral.
The vendor, a thin man wearing a crow-colored mask, raised two fingers.
Xiang Yun didn't bargain. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two purple notes, each worth ten thousand demon coins. He tossed them onto the counter.
The vendor's eyes widened behind the mask at the amount. Twenty thousand coins for a mask with no magical properties was an absurd profit. He quickly grabbed the money and handed the mask to Xiang Yun with a respectful nod.
Xiang Yun put the mask on, feeling the world transform through the eye slits. The sensation of anonymity was liberating. As he adjusted to the new vision, he stopped in front of a stall selling weapons. He wasn't interested in the blades but in the basic inscriptions etched onto their surfaces.
Tilting his head as if admiring a broad, gleaming sword, his eyes focused on the reflection. There, about twenty meters away, standing near a potion tent, was a female figure. She wore a white fox mask with red markings, and unmistakable strands of crimson hair escaped from her hood.
A barely noticeable smile touched Xiang Yun's lips beneath the mask. He pretended not to see anything. Straightening up, he continued his walk, delving deeper into the market. His hearing picked up fragments of conversations: vendors shouting the supposed virtues of their dubious pills, the sound of a fight starting and ending quickly in a nearby alley, the muffled crying of someone who had just been tricked.
Truly, a lawless street. Nothing like what the anime or the novel had ever shown, much less explored.
Shen Xiu, in disguise, felt a pang of frustration. What was Xiang Yun doing? First, he spent a fortune on a plain mask. Now, he wandered aimlessly.
"What the hell is this brat thinking?" Shen Xiu muttered.
She had expected him to meet some mysterious master or buy forbidden items that would explain his advancement. But instead, he looked like a bored noble on an exotic stroll.
Still, she followed him, curiosity gnawing at her patience. She passed by the mask stall, casting a scornful glance at the objects. They were just wood and paint. Nothing special.
'That's...'
Suddenly, Xiang Yun stopped again. This time, in front of a small and decrepit stall run by an unshaven old man with tired eyes.
The stall mostly held junk: rusted artifacts, cracked jars, and ordinary stones. But in the center, on a threadbare velvet cloth, lay a peculiar stone. It was the size of a clenched fist, a deep, opaque violet, with no glow or fluctuation of soul energy. It looked completely useless.
'A Lunar Star Tear?' Xiang Yun stared at the stone for a long moment with excitement, but outwardly remained calm, even with the mask on. In a monotone voice, he pointed at it. "What's the price for this?"
The old man, seeing Xiang Yun's bearing and the quality of his clothes beneath the cloak, decided to take a chance with an exorbitant price. "F-fifty thousand demon coins, young gentleman," he said, nervously, already expecting a heated negotiation or a mocking laugh.
To his absolute shock, Xiang Yun simply nodded. He pulled out five purple notes and placed them in the old man's trembling hand. The vendor's heart pounded. He couldn't believe his luck. That stone had been in his stall for years, picked up in some random cave and used as a useless paperweight.
'I only spent fifty thousand on a Lunar Star Tear that can hold a Black-Gold Rank inscription? What a bargain!' Xiang Yun thought.
"Young gentleman, such good eyes! Such generosity!" the old man stammered, elated. He quickly picked up the violet stone and wrapped it in a piece of clean cloth, handing it to Xiang Yun with an awkward bow.
A few meters away, Shen Xiu watched the transaction in disbelief. Fifty thousand! For a rock! Her suspicions deepened. That stone had to be some kind of treasure. But how had he figured that out? She couldn't understand it.
As soon as Xiang Yun walked away, she approached the old man's stall.
"The stone you just sold. What was it?" she asked, her voice altered by the mask to sound deeper.
The old man, counting the money with a grin stretching from ear to ear, shrugged. "Just an old rock, ma'am. The young gentleman seems to have peculiar taste," he said, showing his yellow teeth. He wasn't about to give away any information that could jeopardize his unexpected profit. What was he supposed to say? That it was a worthless stone nobody wanted? He wouldn't tempt fate like that.
"Damn it!"
Frustrated by the lack of answers, Shen Xiu moved away, her eyes fixed on Xiang Yun's back, more convinced than ever that he was hiding a great secret.
Xiang Yun, however, didn't hold on to his new prize for long.
As soon as he turned a corner, he unwrapped the stone. Holding it tightly in his left hand, he began sliding the index finger of his right hand over its smooth surface.
A faint blue light—his Soul Force—gathered at the tip of his finger. He moved with hypnotic speed and precision, tracing fine, complex lines on the stone. One stroke, five, ten, twenty. The pattern grew denser, a web of ancient runes that no inscription master in Glory City would recognize.
Thirty strokes. Xiang Yun's forehead began to sweat beneath the mask. This inscription required immense control and a colossal amount of Soul Force. Forty strokes. His hand trembled slightly, but his finger never wavered from its path. He finished the forty-ninth stroke with a sharp, final movement.
He took a deep breath, chest heaving from the effort. The violet stone, once opaque, now seemed to pulse with an almost imperceptible inner light, covered by a matrix of inscriptions so dense they looked like a second skin etched into its surface. He tucked it inside his cloak, and a cold, calculated smile spread in his eyes—hidden from the world behind the demon mask.
"Silver-Rank Paralysis Inscription. Looks like with my current strength, my limit is Five-Star Silver Rank inscriptions." He sighed, though somewhat satisfied with himself. He had practically skipped an entire rank to create that inscription.
Xiang Yun resumed walking, but his path shifted. Now, he was deliberately heading toward the quieter, more deserted areas of the market, where stalls were sparse and shadows deeper.
Shen Xiu followed him, her earlier caution giving way to impatience. It never crossed her mind that she might be walking straight into a trap.
Finally, Xiang Yun entered a narrow, dead-end alley flanked by tall, mold-stained walls. A blind alley. A trap.
"Hahaha! Looks like even the Gods are on my side."
Shen Xiu smiled behind her fox mask. To her, Xiang Yun had cornered himself.
"That's enough playing around." She stepped into the alley, her own Soul Force beginning to surge around her, her cultivation rising steadily to Three-Star Silver Rank. The temperature in the air climbed as red flames enveloped her body, forming into claw-like shapes around her right hand.
"Playtime's over, boy. Hand over the treasure you acquired, and maybe I'll let you live," she said, her voice full of power and arrogance. But her voice was still disguised. Even though she was stronger, she remained cautious.
Xiang Yun turned slowly, showing no surprise. Well, even if he did, she wouldn't be able to see it through the mask.
Wooosh!
Seeing that he hadn't moved after her warning, Shen Xiu attacked. She lunged like a red blur, launching a devastating palm strike full of crackling fire straight at Xiang Yun's chest. The attack was fast, powerful, and meant to instantly incapacitate.
But he was ready. The instant she moved, Xiang Yun bent his knees and twisted his body to the side with a fluidity that defied his age.
Bang! Boom!
The flaming palm passed mere inches from his chest, the scorching heat singing his cloak and slamming into the stone wall behind him, leaving a black, smoking mark.
"What!?" Shen Xiu cried out, incredulous.
Xiang Yun hadn't just dodged. He had used the momentum of her attack to position himself perfectly, as if he'd been expecting it.
Before Shen Xiu could recover from the missed strike, Xiang Yun was already moving.
"Let's see how you escape this!"
He pulled the inscribed violet stone from his cloak and, in one swift and brutal motion, slammed it with full force into Shen Xiu's back.
The impact was muffled, but the result was spectacular.
The moment the stone touched Shen Xiu's body, it flared with a blinding violet light. Immediately, the matrix of forty-nine inscriptions activated. The entire stone disintegrated—not into fragments, but into a fine, glowing dust that, against all laws of physics, didn't fall to the ground. Instead, it was drawn inward, passing through Shen Xiu's clothes and into her skin, as if her body were a magnet.
Shen Xiu froze, stunned by both the strike and the bizarre phenomenon. She felt a deep, penetrating cold spreading from the point of impact, a sensation that clashed violently with her fiery Soul Force. Her eyes widened in panic and confusion behind the fox mask. What had he done to her?
But before she could even think of moving, all her Soul Force was paralyzed inside her body—along with her muscles and bones.