After leaving the trial location, the road through the ruins became wider, but not safer.
The cracked stone path stretched between collapsed buildings and black weeds that swayed without wind. Far away, broken towers leaned against the dim red sky. Corpse birds circled above one of the ruined courtyards, and from time to time, the sound of fighting echoed from distant streets before being swallowed by the mist.
The Green Bamboo Alliance did not rush.
After the Weapon Resting Hall, everyone understood that speed was not always courage. Sometimes, speed only meant reaching danger before others. Feng Jiu'er led the group at a steady pace, while Su Wanqing watched the left side and Han Zhi guarded the rear. Fang Lin walked near the middle, the Night Burial Sword quiet at his waist.
Several cultivators passed them on the road.
Some were injured. Some carried storage pouches with their hands pressed tightly over them. A few looked at the Green Bamboo Alliance with caution, but when their eyes landed on Feng Jiu'er and Fang Lin, they quickly chose another path.
Not long after, they encountered three cultivators resting beneath a broken stone arch. Their robes were torn, and one of them had a bandage wrapped around his neck. When they saw Feng Jiu'er, they stood at once and cupped their hands.
"Fairy Feng, are you heading toward Broken Banner City?" one of them asked.
Feng Jiu'er stopped. "Broken Banner City?"
The man nodded quickly. "It is not a real city. The major sect disciples and their tributary sect groups built a temporary gathering place around an old ruin square. There are camps, healing tents, trade stalls, and formation barriers. Many people are going there now to rest, exchange information, and sell spoils."
Zhao Feng's eyes brightened. "There is food?"
The injured cultivator paused. "There is spirit rice, dried beast meat, wine, and pill soup, but the prices are murderous."
Zhao Feng's expression became solemn. "Then it is truly a city."
Murong Yue glanced at him. "You judge civilization by whether someone overcharges for food?"
"Is there a better way?"
Even the injured cultivator nearly smiled, though he quickly held it back.
Fang Lin looked toward the direction the man had pointed. A temporary city inside the ruins was not surprising. When enough cultivators gathered in one dangerous place, trade would appear even before order did. Pills, talismans, maps, weapons, information, healing, and alliances were all resources. In a place where danger hid behind every broken wall, a safe corner could become more expensive than a treasure.
Feng Jiu'er asked a few more questions. The temporary city was several hours away, built around an ancient square where the ground was unusually stable and the surrounding ruined buildings could be used as barriers. Killing was not completely forbidden there, but anyone who attacked openly would offend too many eyes at once. The major sects had each occupied their own camp area, while medium and smaller sects gathered according to backing, friendship, fear, or convenience.
After receiving the information, Feng Jiu'er thanked the cultivators and led the Alliance onward.
The journey took nearly four hours.
Along the way, they saw more signs of movement. Footprints marked the dust. Broken talisman ash lay near a cracked wall. A corpse beast had been cut into pieces and stripped of its usable core. Once, they saw two groups arguing over a ruined courtyard, but when the arguing disciples noticed Feng Jiu'er approaching, both sides lowered their voices as if they had suddenly remembered manners.
Fang Lin watched all of it calmly.
The ruins were no longer only a place of trials. They had become a hunting ground, a market, a battlefield, and a stage where sect faces were measured. A man could sell medicine in the morning, rob his customer in the afternoon, and sit beside him at a wine stall by evening pretending nothing had happened.
When Broken Banner City finally appeared, Zhao Feng forgot to complain about walking.
The city stood inside a vast ruined square surrounded by collapsed stone halls. There were no proper walls, only broken pillars connected by ropes, formation flags, and hastily raised barriers of wood, stone, and spiritual light. Banners hung everywhere. Some were bright and proud, protected by glowing inscriptions. Some were torn, stained, and tied crookedly to spear shafts. Others had been painted in a hurry, as if the group that raised them had only decided to become an alliance after surviving long enough to need a name.
That was why people called it Broken Banner City.
It looked rough, temporary, and dangerous, but it was alive.
Stalls lined the cracked roads. Cultivators sold beast cores, old weapons, pill bottles, map fragments, bone pieces, talismans, herbs, formation plates, and strange stones dug from unknown corners of the ruins.
A Pill Dawn Sect disciple sat behind a table with three medicine boxes open before him, calmly raising prices every time someone coughed blood nearby.
A Hundred Formation Tower disciple repaired damaged formation flags while two customers argued about whether a crack counted as "minor damage" or "almost dead."
Near a row of broken statues, a thin rogue cultivator held up a bronze bell and shouted, "Ancient demon-suppressing treasure! Found beside a corpse with half a golden robe!"
A passerby sneered. "That bell has fresh mud on it."
The thin man did not blink. "Then the mud is ancient too."
Zhao Feng stared at him with admiration. "That man has reached a realm I cannot understand."
Fang Lin said, "You are close."
Zhao Feng turned, looking touched. "Fellow Daoist Shen, are you praising me?"
"No. Warning you."
Murong Yue laughed, and even Bai Qing's lips curved.
As the Green Bamboo Alliance entered deeper, more eyes turned toward them. Some looked at Feng Jiu'er. Some looked at the Green Bamboo insignia. More than a few looked at Fang Lin's sword.
Whispers followed.
"Silent Mountain Sword."
"He came out of the Weapon Resting Hall."
"That is the black sword."
"River Sword Sect paid him compensation."
"Do not say too much. I heard he charges by the sentence."
Fang Lin's expression did not change.
Zhao Feng looked at him suspiciously again. "Fellow Daoist Shen, why do I feel that rumor is getting better every time someone repeats it?"
Fang Lin replied, "Good rumors cultivate by themselves."
Feng Jiu'er walked ahead, but her shoulders seemed to move slightly. Whether she was holding back laughter or anger, no one could tell.
The Green Bamboo camp was located beneath the broader protection of the Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect side. It was not the largest camp in Broken Banner City, but it was clean and disciplined. Green banners stood at four corners, each tied to bamboo-patterned formation flags. Tents were arranged in layers so that anyone attacking from outside would be seen before reaching the inner area.
When the Alliance arrived, the disciples already stationed there quickly came forward to greet Feng Jiu'er. Reports followed one after another. More people had entered the ruins. Several major sect disciples had already clashed near the eastern medicine gardens. Black marks had appeared on some cultivators after different trial sites, but no one knew their meaning. Some thought they were hidden blessings. Some feared they were demonic contamination. Others were already using the marks as excuses to pressure weaker cultivators.
Feng Jiu'er listened without interrupting.
Fang Lin stood to the side, quiet and unremarkable, but he remembered every useful detail.
When the reports ended, the Green Bamboo disciples began arranging rooms and tents. Fang Lin was about to cup his hands and leave for a separate resting place. He did not truly belong to the Green Bamboo Sect under this identity, and staying too close for too long always carried risk.
Before he spoke, Feng Jiu'er looked at him.
"Fellow Daoist Shen, stay in our camp temporarily."
The nearby disciples quieted slightly.
Fang Lin met her gaze. "Fairy Feng is very trusting."
"You traveled with us, fought with us, and offended people beside us. If you leave now, those people may think Green Bamboo Sect fears trouble."
Her words were calm, but there was weight beneath them.
Fang Lin understood.
This was not only kindness. It was also protection, face, and position. If Shen Mo left alone immediately after helping them, others could say Green Bamboo used people and threw them away. If enemies attacked him outside, they could pretend it had nothing to do with Green Bamboo. By inviting him to stay, Feng Jiu'er was quietly declaring that Shen Mo was under their camp's watch, at least for now.
Zhao Feng nodded with exaggerated seriousness. "Senior Sister Feng is right. Fellow Daoist Shen, you should stay. If you leave, people may think we are poor hosts. Also, if you stay, perhaps your expensive reputation will scare away some thieves."
Li Shan glanced at him. "You said the second reason too honestly."
Zhao Feng sighed. "A pure heart cannot hide easily."
Fang Lin looked at Feng Jiu'er, then smiled faintly. "Then I will trouble Fairy Feng for one day."
Feng Jiu'er nodded. "Rest first. You have drawn too many eyes."
Murong Yue looked between the two of them with interest, but she said nothing. Some teasing was best saved for when the target could not immediately retaliate.
Fang Lin was given a small stone room at the rear of the camp. Half of the original building had collapsed, but the remaining walls were thick. A basic concealment formation was placed outside, and a Green Bamboo disciple left a small wooden token that allowed him to enter and exit without disturbing the camp barrier.
For the next day, Fang Lin did not leave.
He rested first.
The battles from the Weapon Resting Hall had not exhausted him deeply, but pretending to be weaker than he was took its own kind of effort. He had to let his aura appear unstable without making it look fake, reveal enough pressure to frighten enemies without exposing too much, and use the Night Burial Sword without allowing others to see what truly lay beneath his cultivation.
After several hours, his breathing steadied.
Only then did he open the recent spoils.
The first pouch belonged to the River Sword disciple who had paid compensation earlier. It contained ninety-six low-grade spirit stones, two middle-grade spirit stones, a bottle of Riverflow Recovery Pills, one River Sword attack talisman, and a small Sword Tempering Stone. Not bad for a debt, but not enough to make him forget the hand behind it.
Ruan Cheng's pouch was better. One hundred and sixty-eight low-grade spirit stones, four middle-grade spirit stones, a bottle of Moon Dew Healing Pills, three Jade Mist Veil Talismans, and an incomplete Mist Lotus Finger fragment. Fang Lin held the jade slip for a moment before putting it aside. The technique required mist-water affinity and carried traces of Jade Mist Palace style. Useful, but troublesome if exposed carelessly.
The dead Black Mountain Gate disciples had carried more practical things. One hundred and ninety low-grade spirit stones, five middle-grade spirit stones, a Black Rock Guard Bead, two Earth Armor Talismans, two jars of Black Stone Marrow Paste, and a broken Mountain-Splitting Axe manual fragment. Fang Lin looked at the Black Rock Guard Bead longer than the rest. It was a one-time defensive treasure, crude but useful. Against ordinary Spirit Foundation attacks, it could buy a breath of time.
Sometimes, one breath was worth more than a pouch of stones.
The dead Jade Mist disciple's pouch held one hundred and forty-two low-grade spirit stones, three middle-grade spirit stones, six Jade Mist Recovery Pills, two more Jade Mist Veil Talismans, and an incomplete Misty Willow Step fragment. Fang Lin sorted them carefully. He had no intention of cultivating Jade Mist methods, but talismans and pills did not care about sect grudges.
Finally, he opened Xu Hanjiang's two compensation pouches.
The first was indeed light compared to his status. The second made it barely acceptable. Together, they held three hundred and twelve low-grade spirit stones, nine middle-grade spirit stones, four mid-grade recovery pills, two Spirit Cleansing Pills, a damaged Cloud Thread Formation Flag, and a jade slip wrapped in old yellow cloth.
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed slightly when his divine sense entered the jade slip.
Falling Rain Needle Manual.
It was a Superior Spirit Foundation hidden-weapon and piercing attack technique from an unknown source. The method was sharp, quiet, and difficult to defend against, but it required delicate weapon control and a path that did not match Fang Lin's current direction. It was not useless. In fact, for the right cultivator, it was quite valuable.
For him, it was better as trade.
Fang Lin placed the jade slip in a separate pouch.
After sorting everything, his recent opened gains came to nine hundred and eight low-grade spirit stones and twenty-three middle-grade spirit stones, not counting pills, talismans, materials, and technique fragments. His expression remained calm, but his fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Killing enemies was dangerous.
Letting enemies deliver wealth to him after failing to kill him was much better.
Outside the stone room, Broken Banner City grew louder as night deepened. Someone argued over pill prices. Someone laughed drunkenly in a wine tent. A formation alarm rang once before being silenced. Farther away, a disciple shouted that his map was real, while another shouted that the map had led him into a corpse pit.
Fang Lin ignored all of it.
He stored the spirit stones, separated the sensitive sect items, kept the talismans near at hand, and placed the Night Burial Sword across his knees. The black blade remained quiet, its faint red lines dim beneath the formation light.
A full day passed in rest, sorting, and silent recovery.
When Fang Lin finally opened his eyes again, the noise outside had changed.
It was no longer the restless noise of night.
It was the sharper, hungrier noise of morning trade.
Broken Banner City had woken up, and with it came food, wine, rumors, greed, and opportunity.
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