**Title: Bound by the Heavens, Ascending by the Wife**
**Chapter 3: The Ghost Market and the Miracle of the Verdant Blood Vine**
The morning sun filtered through the intricate silk screens of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion's Heaven-grade suite, casting warm, golden geometric patterns across the plush carpet.
Han Lin sat at the edge of the massive, cedar-framed bed, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and rhythmic. With every exhalation, a faint, translucent white mist shot from his nostrils, dissipating into the air a full three feet away. This was the legendary 'Breathing Out the Old, Taking in the New'—a physical manifestation of a cultivator whose internal meridians were brimming with pure, unadulterated spiritual energy.
He opened his eyes. The world looked fundamentally different.
The chronic, oppressive myopia of his mortal existence was gone. Without moving his head, he could see the microscopic dust motes dancing in the sunbeams across the room. He could hear the faint, rhythmic scuttling of a spider weaving a web in the rafters three stories below. He could feel the exact density of the air, the subtle shifts in temperature, and the faint, chaotic hum of the mortal city waking up outside.
He raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist. A series of crisp, terrifying pops echoed from his knuckles, sounding like firecrackers.
"Level Five of Qi Condensation," Han Lin murmured, his voice rich and resonating with an invisible weight.
He drove his fist downward, stopping a mere fraction of an inch above the sturdy, iron-wood bedside table. The sheer kinetic force generated by the sudden stop, combined with a microscopic burst of spiritual energy from his pores, created a localized shockwave.
*Crack.*
A hairline fracture appeared in the solid iron-wood, spreading outward like a spiderweb.
Han Lin grinned, withdrawing his hand. The feeling of power was intoxicating. A day ago, he was a miserable Level 2 spiritual farmer who had to bow to low-level stewards and count individual grains of rice to survive. He was a pathetic, five-element trash root.
He was *still* a five-element trash root. His aptitude hadn't changed. But the sheer, brute-force volume of perfectly purified, neutral spiritual energy that the System had aggressively pumped into his body via the Tenfold Return had physically forced his meridians to expand, tearing through bottlenecks like a cannonball through wet paper. His foundation was arguably thicker and more robust than most single-element geniuses at the same level, simply because his body had been forced to adapt to a violently massive influx of power.
He turned his head to look at the center of the bed.
Su Qingxue was still asleep, curled up on her side beneath the silk blankets. The faint, ethereal green aura of her Heavenly Wood Spirit Root had entirely retracted into her body, leaving her looking like a perfectly ordinary, albeit stunningly beautiful, mortal girl. Her breathing was so silent and shallow that an ordinary person might have feared she was dead, but Han Lin's enhanced senses could hear the powerful, steady, thrumming beat of her heart, pumping blood enriched with pure Wood Qi throughout her newly awakened body.
Level One Qi Condensation. In a single night.
For a mortal to sense Qi, draw it in, complete a cycle, and solidify their foundation at Level One usually took three to six months of bitter, isolated meditation. Qingxue had done it in a handful of hours, entirely unconsciously, just by following a trash-tier breathing technique Han Lin had hastily explained to her.
As if sensing his gaze, her long eyelashes fluttered. Qingxue's deep obsidian eyes slowly opened.
For a moment, she looked panicked, disoriented by the softness of the bed and the smell of expensive incense. Her hand instinctively shot out, grasping for the familiar, comforting rough texture of her old beggar's sack. Instead, her fingers closed around fine silk.
The memories of the previous night came rushing back. The alleyway. The miraculous green pill. The terrifying, god-like man who had decimated her tormentors. The proposal. The feast.
She shot up into a sitting position, her eyes wide as they locked onto Han Lin. "H-Husband! I... I overslept! Please forgive this useless wife! I will fetch water! I will prepare breakfast!"
She scrambled toward the edge of the bed, her movements frantic. But as she moved, she suddenly froze, a look of profound shock washing over her delicate features.
"Husband..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "What is wrong with me? I feel... I feel light. As if I could jump over the roof. And the air... the air smells like... like old leaves and distant rain. I can hear people talking in the streets below."
Han Lin chuckled gently, reaching out to gently push her back into a seated position on the mattress. "There is nothing wrong with you, Qingxue. Quite the opposite. Everything is finally right with you. You are no longer a mortal. You have stepped through the gates of heaven. You are a cultivator at the First Level of Qi Condensation."
Qingxue stared at her own hands, turning them over. The dirt and grime of her past life were gone, replaced by skin as smooth and pale as white jade. But more importantly, beneath her skin, she could feel a warm, comforting current flowing—a tiny river of green light that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
"I am... an Immortal?" she asked, the concept entirely too massive for her young, traumatized mind to fully grasp.
"You are on the path to becoming one," Han Lin corrected gently. "Right now, you are at the very beginning. The cultivation world is divided into great realms. We are in the Qi Condensation realm, the foundation of all things. It is divided into nine levels. You are at Level One. I am at Level Five."
He didn't tell her about her Heavenly Spirit Root. He didn't want to inflate her ego, nor did he want her to understand exactly how valuable she was just yet. In her mind, she was a lowly beggar whom he had mercifully uplifted. That power dynamic, forged in the fires of mutual consent and the System's binding, was essential for his continued success.
"But Husband," Qingxue said, her brow furrowing with genuine worry. "If I am an Immortal... why am I not hungry? I haven't eaten since last night, but my stomach feels completely full. Will I ever eat again?"
To a girl who had spent her entire conscious life battling the agony of starvation, the sudden absence of hunger was terrifying.
"That is the power of Qi," Han Lin explained patiently. "Spiritual energy nourishes the body better than mortal food ever could. As long as you have Qi in your meridians, you will not starve. But do not worry," he added, seeing the panic lingering in her eyes. "Cultivators still eat. We eat spiritual meats, heavenly fruits, and meals prepared with exotic herbs that taste far better than mortal food. I promised you would never go hungry again, and I intend to keep that promise."
Qingxue let out a long sigh of relief, her shoulders dropping. She looked at Han Lin, her obsidian eyes shining with a devotion so pure and intense it was almost frightening. "Thank you, Husband. Qingxue will cultivate diligently so I do not become a burden to you."
Han Lin smiled. *A burden? You are a literal gold mine.*
"Speaking of cultivation," Han Lin said, his expression turning serious. He stood up and began pacing the room. "We have a severe problem."
Qingxue instantly tensed. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, you did perfectly," Han Lin assured her. "The problem is not your cultivation, but the world we live in. The cultivation world is not a place of benevolent immortals meditating on mountain peaks. It is a slaughterhouse. It is a dark forest where the strong eat the weak, and the weak are ground into dust."
He walked to the window and looked out over the sprawling expanse of Cloudfall City. Beyond the mortal architecture, in the far distance, the jagged, mist-shrouded peaks of the Azure Cloud Sect pierced the sky.
"Your aptitude for cultivation is... exceptional," Han Lin chose his words carefully. "You absorb Qi incredibly fast. If the elders of the Azure Cloud Sect discover you, they will take you away. They will force you into their inner sect, lock you in a cave to cultivate for decades, and sever all your worldly ties." He paused, looking back at her. "Including me."
Qingxue's face drained of all color. The very thought of being dragged away from the only person who had ever shown her kindness, the man who had pulled her from the gutter, filled her with absolute, unadulterated terror.
"No!" she cried out, scrambling off the bed and running to him, grabbing his sleeves with a desperate grip. "I won't go! I won't let them! I am your wife! I belong to you, Husband! If they try to take me, I will... I will stop cultivating! I will break my own meridians!"
Han Lin's heart skipped a beat. *Please don't do that, you're my only source of EXP.* He quickly wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders, holding her close. "Calm down, Qingxue. Nobody is taking you anywhere. I won't allow it. But to ensure they don't find out, we need to hide your aura. We need an artifact—a Spirit Obscuring Pendant—to mask your cultivation base so you appear as an ordinary mortal."
She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. "Then let us buy one, Husband!"
Han Lin let out a bitter laugh, releasing her and pulling his storage pouch from his belt. He tipped it upside down over the table.
*Clink. Clink.*
Two chipped, dull, low-grade spirit stones rolled onto the polished wood.
"This is my entire net worth," Han Lin said flatly. "A high-tier Spirit Obscuring artifact—the kind needed to fool a Core Formation elder of the sect—costs at least two thousand low-grade spirit stones."
Qingxue stared at the two pathetic stones. Even with her limited knowledge, the mathematical disparity was obvious. "Two thousand... how do we get that much?"
"In the cultivation world, there are four paths to wealth: pill concocting, artifact forging, formation setting, and spiritual farming," Han Lin explained. "I am a spiritual farmer. Or, at least, I was. But growing ordinary Spirit-Thread Rice takes months and only yields a few stones. We don't have months. We need to buy that artifact today, before we return to the sect's territory."
He walked over to his discarded grey robe, ignoring the dirt stains, and dug into an inner pocket. He pulled out a small, tightly sealed leather pouch. Opening it, he poured a dozen small, shriveled, grayish-brown seeds into his palm.
"These are the seeds of the Verdant Blood Vine," Han Lin said, holding his palm out to her. "It is a low-tier medicinal herb used by alchemists to brew basic Blood Coagulation Pills for mortal martial artists and low-level cultivators. A mature, ten-year-old vine might sell for one spirit stone. A fifty-year-old vine could sell for fifty stones."
Qingxue looked at the shriveled seeds. "But Husband... seeds take years to grow into vines. We don't have time."
"Normally, yes," Han Lin said, his eyes gleaming with a sudden, intense light. "But your spiritual root is different. It is of the pure Wood attribute. Wood governs life, growth, and nature. I have a theory. I want you to take one of these seeds, hold it in your hand, and push your Qi into it. Do not attack it. Nourish it. Imagine the Qi acting as sunlight and water."
Qingxue looked doubtful, but she would never disobey him. She picked up a single, dry seed from his palm. It felt like a tiny pebble, devoid of life.
She closed her eyes, mimicking the meditative state from the previous night. She located the small reservoir of pure green liquid-light in her dantian—her newly formed Qi—and slowly guided a thread of it up her arm, through her meridians, and into the palm of her hand.
The moment her pure, Heavenly Wood Qi touched the seed, the room seemed to hold its breath.
*Thump.*
Han Lin literally heard a heartbeat come from the seed.
In Qingxue's palm, the grayish-brown husk of the seed cracked open with a sharp snap. A brilliant, glowing emerald sprout burst forth. It didn't just grow; it erupted. Within seconds, the sprout thickened into a vine, wrapping itself around Qingxue's pale fingers. Leaves unfurled—not green, but a deep, vibrant crimson, pulsing with vitality.
"Husband!" Qingxue gasped, her eyes flying open in shock as the vine continued to lengthen, rapidly crawling up her forearm. "It's drinking my Qi!"
"Keep feeding it!" Han Lin ordered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Don't stop!"
The vine thickened further, its color deepening from crimson to a dark, almost black-red hue that resembled coagulated blood. The ambient spiritual energy in the room became thick and fragrant, smelling of rich soil and ancient forests.
Ten seconds passed. The vine was now three feet long, thick as a man's thumb, and radiating a powerful, medicinal aura that made Han Lin's own blood flow faster just by standing near it.
Fifty seconds. The vine sprouted tiny, blood-red flowers that bloomed and wilted in a matter of moments, leaving behind small, crystallized red berries.
"I... I can't... my Qi is almost empty..." Qingxue gasped, her face suddenly turning pale. She had drained almost all the energy she had gathered the previous night.
"Stop!" Han Lin commanded.
Qingxue instantly cut off the flow of Qi. The violent, hyper-accelerated growth of the Verdant Blood Vine ceased immediately.
What lay draped across Qingxue's arm was no longer a common weed. It was a massive, pulsing, crystalline vine, heavy with spiritual energy, exuding a fragrance so dense it was almost intoxicating.
Han Lin's breath hitched. He had worked the spiritual fields for a year. He knew his herbs.
This was not a ten-year-old vine. It wasn't even a fifty-year-old vine.
Based on the density of the blood-red color and the crystallization of the berries, this Verdant Blood Vine possessed an medicinal age of at least *five hundred years*.
In the span of one minute, Qingxue's Heavenly Wood Root had artificially aged a garbage-tier seed by five centuries.
Before Han Lin could even process the magnitude of this cheat, the System's blue screen forcefully inserted itself into his vision, flashing a brilliant, blinding gold.
*Ding!*
[ **Dao Companion Su Qingxue has utilized Wood Qi for Spiritual Plant Catalysis.** ]
[ **Skill Mastery: Plant Catalysis (Beginner) unlocked.** ]
[ **Aptitude Multiplier applied (Heavenly Root).** ]
[ **Base EXP generated: 800 Wood Qi points.** ]
[ **Tenfold Return triggered!** ]
[ **Host receives: 8000 Pure, Converted Neutral Qi points!** ]
[ **Host receives: Skill Mastery - Plant Catalysis (Perfected)!** ]
*BOOM!*
For the second time in twelve hours, Han Lin was struck by a metaphysical lightning bolt.
A torrent of pure, neutral spiritual energy crashed into his dantian. The sheer volume was staggering. His expanded meridians handled it better this time, but the pressure was still immense. The energy roared through his body like a dragon, crashing against the barrier of the Sixth Level of Qi Condensation.
*Crack!*
The barrier splintered, then shattered completely.
Han Lin groaned, his aura exploding outward, rippling the silk curtains and violently rattling the porcelain teacups on the table. The air in the room grew heavy and oppressive, filled with the dense, terrifying pressure of a mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivator.
Level Six.
He had just hit Level Six simply because his wife grew a plant.
But the physical growth wasn't the only reward. A flood of alien knowledge forcefully inserted itself into his brain. It was a profound, instinctual understanding of plant life. He suddenly knew exactly how to channel his own chaotic five-element Qi to stimulate seeds, how to detect blights in spiritual soil, and how to hybridize different strains of spiritual herbs. He had instantly attained 'Perfected' mastery over a skill that master spiritual farmers spent centuries trying to comprehend.
Han Lin stood there, panting slightly, as the residual energy settled into his dantian. He looked at his hands, then at the 500-year-old Verdant Blood Vine resting on Qingxue's arm.
"Are you okay, Husband?" Qingxue asked, looking at him with wide, worried eyes. "Your aura... it exploded again."
Han Lin slowly looked up, meeting her gaze. A slow, dangerous, and incredibly arrogant grin spread across his face.
"I am perfectly fine, Wife," he said, stepping forward and carefully taking the heavy, pulsing vine from her arm. "In fact, I have never been better. Get dressed. The Drunken Immortal Pavilion will provide whatever you need. We are going shopping."
An hour later, two figures emerged from the back entrance of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion, stepping into a discreet, narrow alleyway.
Han Lin had abandoned his dirty, patched grey robe. He now wore a set of high-quality, midnight-black martial arts robes he had forced the pavilion manager to procure from a nearby boutique. Over the robes, he wore a voluminous black cloak, its hood pulled low to obscure his features.
Beside him walked Qingxue. She was dressed in a simple but elegant white dress, devoid of any ostentatious jewelry that might attract mortal thieves. Her face, too striking and beautiful to be shown in the underbelly of the city, was hidden behind a wide-brimmed bamboo hat fitted with a thick white veil that draped down to her shoulders.
"Stay close to me," Han Lin murmured, his voice low. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not look at anyone directly. If trouble happens, hide behind me."
"Yes, Husband," Qingxue whispered, gripping the edge of his black cloak tightly.
Han Lin led them through a labyrinth of twisting, increasingly squalid alleyways. They moved away from the wealthy center of Cloudfall City, heading toward the northern slums—a place where the city guards refused to patrol, and where the line between the mortal world and the hidden, violent world of loose cultivators blurred into nothingness.
They arrived at a dead-end courtyard behind a slaughterhouse. The stench of blood and rotting meat was overpowering. In the center of the brick wall at the end of the courtyard, there was a heavy iron door, completely devoid of handles or keyholes.
Standing in front of the door were two men dressed in tattered grey robes. They looked like beggars, but Han Lin's Level Six senses immediately detected the distinct, albeit chaotic, fluctuations of spiritual energy radiating from their bodies.
Level Three and Level Four Qi Condensation. Loose cultivators acting as bouncers.
This was the entrance to the Ghost Market—the underground bazaar where unaffiliated cultivators, demonic practitioners, and sect outcasts came to trade stolen goods, dark arts manuals, and unverified treasures, far from the prying eyes of the righteous sects.
As Han Lin approached, the Level Four guard stepped forward, resting his hand on the hilt of a rusted broadsword.
"Halt," the guard rasped, his eyes narrowing as he tried to peer beneath Han Lin's hood. "Token."
Han Lin didn't speak. He didn't have a token. Instead, he employed the most universal language in the cultivation world.
He released a fraction of his spiritual pressure.
He didn't unleash the full might of his Level Six cultivation, nor did he let the violently pure nature of his system-granted Qi show. He simply compressed his aura, projecting a dense, heavy, and extremely hostile intent that felt like a localized gravity well.
The two guards instantly stiffened. The arrogance vanished from their faces, replaced by a deep, instinctual wariness. In the loose cultivator world, a strong aura meant death to those who offended it.
"Senior," the Level Four guard said, his tone shifting immediately to one of deep respect. He stepped aside and performed a shallow bow. "Forgive my lack of eyes. The Ghost Market welcomes you."
He turned and pressed a specific sequence of bricks on the wall next to the iron door. A faint, glowing blue rune flared to life, and the heavy door silently swung inward, revealing a descending stone staircase illuminated by eerie, green-glowing moss.
Han Lin nodded silently, pulling Qingxue close, and stepped into the darkness.
The Ghost Market was not a single room, but a massive, subterranean cavern network situated directly beneath the northern slums of Cloudfall City. It was a chaotic, claustrophobic bazaar filled with rows of makeshift stalls, illuminated by floating, luminescent stones and flickering torches.
The air was thick with the smell of exotic incense, blood, unwashed bodies, and ozone. Hundreds of figures in cloaks, masks, and veils moved through the narrow aisles, haggling in hushed, desperate voices.
*"Freshly harvested Tier-1 Iron-Horn Boar core! Only fifty spirit stones!"*
*"Incomplete Blood-Refining Manual! Guaranteed to break you into Level Four! Trading for healing pills!"*
*"Selling a mysterious rusted sword found in a Core Formation ruin! Who wants to gamble their destiny?"*
Han Lin ignored the cacophony. He had a specific destination in mind. He guided Qingxue through the throng, his sharp eyes scanning the crude wooden signs hanging above the larger, permanent storefronts carved into the cavern walls.
Finally, he found it.
A three-story building constructed entirely of dark, polished mahogany—a stark contrast to the surrounding squalor. A large plaque above the entrance read: *Myriad Treasures Pavilion - Ghost Market Branch*.
Unlike the other stalls, this shop was owned by a massive, continent-spanning merchant alliance. They were notoriously neutral, incredibly wealthy, and ruthless in their business dealings. They didn't ask where goods came from; they only cared about the profit margin.
Han Lin pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.
The interior was quiet, heavily perfumed, and lined with glass display cases containing glowing artifacts, jade slips, and sealed pill bottles. Standing behind a long, jade-carved counter was an elderly man with a long white beard, wearing a pristine grey scholar's robe.
Han Lin's eyes narrowed. The old man looked frail, but his spiritual fluctuations were deep and terrifyingly stable.
*Level Seven Qi Condensation. Late stage.* In the outer rim of the Azure Cloud Sect, a Level Seven cultivator was an elite, capable of acting as a deacon or an inner sect enforcer. Finding one running a pawn shop in the mortal realm's black market meant this pavilion possessed immense backing.
The old man, Elder Mo, looked up from a ledger he was reading. His sharp, hawkish eyes swept over Han Lin and Qingxue. He felt nothing from the veiled girl—clearly a mortal pet. But when he looked at the cloaked figure, he frowned slightly. He could sense the man was at Level Six, but the aura felt strangely dense, heavier than a normal five-element loose cultivator.
"Welcome to the Myriad Treasures Pavilion," Elder Mo said, his voice smooth and professional. "Are you looking to buy, or looking to sell?"
Han Lin walked up to the counter, keeping his hood low. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He reached beneath his cloak and pulled out a long, rectangular wooden box he had taken from the inn.
He placed the box on the jade counter.
"Sell," Han Lin said, his voice artificially deepened and roughened.
Elder Mo raised an eyebrow. He reached out and unlatched the wooden box, flipping the lid open.
Instantly, a wave of dense, intoxicating, blood-red spiritual energy washed over the room. The scent of rich soil and potent medicinal efficacy filled the air, so strong that the ambient Qi in the room visibly warped around the box.
Elder Mo's eyes widened. His professional facade cracked instantly. He leaned forward, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at the massive, pulsing, crystalline dark-red vine resting on the velvet lining.
"Heavens..." Elder Mo breathed, reaching into his robes to pull out a specialized monocle carved from spirit crystal. He jammed it into his eye and leaned closer, inspecting the crystallized berries and the density of the red hue.
"A Verdant Blood Vine," Elder Mo muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But the size... the color... the crystallization... This isn't ten years. It isn't fifty. This... this is at least five hundred years old! A half-millennium herb!"
He looked up at Han Lin, his hawkish eyes burning with intense greed and suspicion. "Where did a Level Six loose cultivator acquire a five-hundred-year-old spiritual herb? Such a treasure only grows in the deepest, most dangerous core regions of the Azure Cloud Mountain Range, guarded by Tier-3 demonic beasts!"
Han Lin let out a low, chilling chuckle. He leaned over the counter, closing the distance between him and the Level Seven elder.
"My Myriad Treasures Pavilion has a rule, does it not, Elder?" Han Lin said coldly. "We do not ask the origin of the goods. We only negotiate the price. If you are afraid the blood on this vine will stain your hands, I can take it to the Heavenly Core Auction House down the street."
He reached out, pretending to close the box.
"Wait!" Elder Mo snapped, slamming his hand down on the lid to keep it open. A 500-year-old Verdant Blood Vine was incredibly rare. To a high-level alchemist attempting to brew Foundation Establishment tier healing pills, it was a priceless catalyst. If he bought it here and sent it to the Pavilion's headquarters, his commission would be astronomical.
He took a deep breath, composing himself, though his eyes never left the vine.
"Forgive me, Daoist Friend. It is merely... shocking," Elder Mo said, forcing a smile. "You are correct. Origins do not matter. Let us discuss the price. A normal fifty-year vine goes for fifty low-grade stones. The price increases exponentially with age. For a five-hundred-year vine... I am willing to offer you one thousand low-grade spirit stones."
Han Lin stared at him through the shadows of his hood. Then, he simply reached down, grabbed the box, and turned around to leave.
"One thousand five hundred!" Elder Mo barked, his calm demeanor slipping.
Han Lin didn't stop. He took Qingxue's hand and took another step toward the door.
"Two thousand! Daoist Friend, that is my final offer! Two thousand low-grade spirit stones is enough wealth for a loose cultivator to comfortably cultivate for twenty years!"
Han Lin stopped. He slowly turned his head. "Do you take me for a country bumpkin, Elder Mo? This vine can refine a dozen Grand Blood Replenishment Pills. A single one of those pills sells for five hundred stones to desperate cultivators entering secret realms. Your profit margin is disgusting."
Han Lin projected his aura, artificially compressing the terrifyingly pure, neutral Qi the system had given him, making his Level Six aura feel as dense and oppressive as a Level Eight.
"Three thousand low-grade spirit stones," Han Lin stated, his voice ringing with absolute finality. "Not a stone less. And I require a High-Tier Spirit Obscuring Jade Pendant as part of the transaction."
Elder Mo gritted his teeth. He felt the suffocating pressure radiating from the cloaked figure. *This man is hiding his true cultivation,* Mo thought, misinterpreting Han Lin's pure Qi. *He must be at least at the peak of Level Eight, perhaps even a disguised Core Formation rogue cultivator. Offending him for a few stones is suicide.*
"Fine," Elder Mo hissed, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "Three thousand. And the pendant."
He turned and unlocked a heavy iron safe behind him. He pulled out three bulging, heavily enchanted spatial pouches. He tossed them onto the counter. "Each pouch contains exactly one thousand standard, low-grade spirit stones. Check them if you wish."
He then opened a glass display case and carefully lifted out a flawless, circular pendant carved from milky-white jade, strung on a simple black cord.
"A High-Tier Illusionary Cloud Pendant," Elder Mo explained, his tone sour. "Forged by a Level Two Formation Master. Once worn, it completely masks the user's spiritual fluctuations. Even a Core Formation elder would have to physically grab their wrist and inject Qi to detect their true cultivation base. Its market value is one thousand stones. I will deduct it from the total."
Han Lin nodded. He opened the spatial pouches one by one, sweeping his spiritual sense over them. Mountains of glowing, perfectly cut spirit stones greeted his mind's eye. It was wealth beyond his wildest dreams.
He took the two pouches containing two thousand stones and tied them to his belt. He then took the pendant, sliding it across the counter.
Han Lin turned to Qingxue. Gently, he lifted the edge of her veil and slipped the white jade pendant over her head, letting it rest against her collarbone beneath her dress.
"Inject a sliver of Qi into it," Han Lin whispered.
Qingxue obeyed. The moment her Qi touched the jade, the pendant flashed briefly. Instantly, the faint, lingering scent of ancient forests and the subtle, unconscious pressure of her Heavenly Root vanished completely. To Han Lin's spiritual senses, she was now perfectly, utterly mundane—a true mortal.
"Perfect," Han Lin muttered. He looked back at Elder Mo, tossing the wooden box containing the vine onto the counter. "A pleasure doing business, Elder. May the Dao guide your path."
Without waiting for a response, Han Lin swept his cloak back and strode out of the Myriad Treasures Pavilion, pulling Qingxue alongside him.
As they stepped back out into the chaotic, sprawling expanse of the Ghost Market, Han Lin felt a profound sense of relief. The biggest threat—the exposure of Qingxue's talent—was neutralized. He had wealth. He had power.
But as they navigated the crowded, dimly lit aisles, heading back toward the exit, the hairs on the back of Han Lin's neck suddenly stood up.
His enhanced, Level Six senses picked up a subtle shift in the ambient intent around him. The chaotic noise of the market seemed to dull, replaced by the faint, rhythmic sound of footsteps syncing perfectly with his own.
He didn't need to look back to know what was happening.
In the cultivation world, wealth was a sin if you didn't have the strength to protect it. He had just walked out of the premier appraisal shop in the market. Even though the transaction was private, the greedy eyes of the desperate rats lurking in the shadows had noticed the confident stride of a man whose pockets were suddenly heavy.
Han Lin tightened his grip on Qingxue's hand.
"Husband?" she whispered, sensing the sudden tension radiating from his body.
"Keep walking, Qingxue," Han Lin replied, his voice completely devoid of warmth, replaced by the cold, calculating absolute zero of a predator about to turn on its hunters. "We are going to take the scenic route out of the city. I need to test a few things."
He adjusted his path, moving away from the main exit leading back to the slums, and instead walked toward a darker, completely unlit tunnel at the edge of the cavern—a smuggler's route that led to the desolate, rocky wastelands outside the city walls.
The hunt had begun. But the rats following him didn't realize they were chasing a dragon.