Deep beneath the earth, the underground black market was dim and gloomy despite the lighting set at intervals, as if a heavy shadow lay over everything. The lanes were narrow and twisting; stalls crowded each other with no order at all, nothing like the neat rows aboveground. Most stall keepers wore masks and watched passersby with cold eyes. Those who passed walked quickly and kept their distance from one another.

Ancestor Sui Bian frowned: “This place is like a rat’s nest, cramped and chaotic, with hardly a place to set one’s feet.”

Old Black Daoist’s expression darkened: “There is too much killing intent here. Who knows how many lives have been lost.”

As they were still alertly taking in their surroundings, a commotion broke out ahead. Two cultivators had come to blows for some reason. Nearby stalls were overturned and goods scattered everywhere. One of the cultivators drew a curved blade and slashed for the other’s face. The other flung out an ancient bronze mirror in defense. The two clashed; the mirror held for only a moment before shattering with a crash. The blade-bearer gave a cold laugh, turned his wrist, and drew the edge across his opponent’s neck. A head rolled, and blood splashed across the stones.

The man bent, tore the Storage Pouch from the headless corpse’s waist, and strode off. The surrounding pedestrians acted as if they had seen this a thousand times; they scattered to avoid trouble, and some even stooped to snatch up dropped items before slipping away. The stall keepers, faces blank, righted their goods as if nothing had happened.

Yu Zhao stared, stunned.

Ancestor Sui Bian swore under his breath: “This place truly is lawless. People kill for treasure without even bothering to cover it up.”

Old Black Daoist edged closer to Senior Ling Long and nodded repeatedly.

Senior Ling Long already knew what this place was like and said without a ripple: “Pay it no mind. Keep moving. Remember, do not meddle and do not start conflicts lightly.”

They nodded, carefully detoured around the corpse, and went on. In the time it takes half a stick of incense to burn, they ran into two more robberies by murder; one succeeded, and one ended with the attacker killed instead. Blood crawled along the cracks in the stone.

From initial shock, their minds gradually shifted to the goods on offer. Old Black Daoist, sharp-eyed, noticed a Starry Sky Stone on a nearby stall that could not have been more humble. He asked, curious: “How much for this Starry Sky Stone?”

The stall keeper, a tall, thin man in a bronze mask, lazily lifted his eyelids and held up five fingers: “Five pieces of Spirit Jade. No bargaining.”

“Five?!” Old Black Daoist almost jumped, his voice rising: “They cost ten pieces of Spirit Jade in the market above. This price is not fake, is it?”

The stall keeper snorted: “Buy or do not; if not, get lost. Goods down here are always cheaper than above. If you dislike cheap, by all means go back up and buy the overpriced stuff.”

Old Black Daoist was struck speechless. He turned to the others, beating his chest in regret: “We were fleeced, fleeced. If I had known the black market was this cheap, why waste so much money upstairs?”

Miserly by nature, he felt as if he had been flensed when he realized he had overpaid.

Ancestor Sui Bian smacked his tongue: “The price is absurdly low. No wonder people risk their necks to come here.”

Senior Xiu Yu added, not without knowledge despite never having visited herself: “Most of the goods here came by crooked means, ripped from the dead or stolen. The stall keepers are eager to offload them, so prices are much lower than above. But buying them carries its own risk. If someone recognizes what you bought, trouble will follow.”

While Old Black Daoist was still lamenting, Senior Ling Long stepped forward, inspected the Starry Sky Stone with care, and told the stall keeper: “We will take it.”

The stall keeper grunted and passed it over. Senior Ling Long paid in Spirit Jade and flicked the stone into her storage ring.

Old Black Daoist clutched his chest: “If only I had known…”

Ancestor Sui Bian nudged his waist: “Enough, enough. It is bought and done. Keep your eyes open, we may find an even better bargain.”

Only then did Old Black Daoist pull himself together and follow the others on.

They went farther, turned two corners, and suddenly the lane widened. Stranger still, there were no stalls on this street at all, only tall iron cages stacked one atop another. The air reeked of blood, sweat, and filth, and something else that pressed on the lungs.

“What is this…” he began.

Through the bars, they met one deadened, hopeless gaze after another. At that moment, a hunched elder with a short whip in his hand noticed them and shuffled over, the tail of the whip dragging along the ground with a dry rasp.

“Take a look, sirs and madams. If you need anything, just command this old fellow.”

The elder’s eager smile looked grotesque in this sinister, perilous place. Yu Zhao instinctively tightened her grip on Senior Xiu Yu’s hand; she could clearly feel the elder’s gaze lingering longer on her than on the others.

Senior Ling Long frowned slightly and said in a flat voice: “Do you have any rare curiosities?”

“If you are looking for rarities, you have come to the right place,” the elder beamed, as if a great deal had just fallen into his lap. He flicked the short whip and pointed at the stacked cages with proprietary pride: “This is the largest live-goods market in the underground black market. Full selection, fair prices, satisfaction guaranteed.”

He walked to the nearest cage and tapped it with the tip of his whip. Inside, a young cultivator in rags sat chained by the wrists, eyes empty, not reacting to the rattle at all. Annoyance flashed in the elder’s eyes; when he turned back, the ingratiating smile had returned: “Do not be fooled by his slow response. He is the most popular young talent in his Small World among female cultivators. His cultivation is a little low, but he is young, clean, and his Spiritual Power is pure. Whether you want a Furnace Cauldron or a pet, he is excellent value.”

Ancestor Sui Bian’s lips trembled; he almost could not keep from cursing. Old Black Daoist’s face went black. To tread the path of cultivation is to stain one’s hands with blood, but to traffic in people like livestock was the utter extinction of conscience.

Senior Ling Long’s expression did not change as she asked coolly: “Do you have anything else?”