Chen Pingâan knew the location of the Black Market.
When Old Chen was still around, he had taken him there once. Although the Black Market was chaotic, with Old Chen present, his safety had been guaranteed.
The Black Market was located in a desolate alley in Nanquan Lane. At the very end of the alley was a clearing of considerable size. By a tacit agreement among the various powers, the surrounding area was kept sparsely populated.
Chen Pingâan clutched the booklet, a chopping knife hidden under his clothes, and walked quickly through the alley.
Even after night fell, there would still be night patrol officers from the Garrison Commandantâs Office on the streets and alleys of Nanquan Lane.
Compared to the daytime, the number of night patrol officers and their shifts were far fewer. They usually carried a copper gong, which they would strike immediately to sound an alarm if anything happened.
Chen Pingâan was naturally aware of the ins and outs of this.
He himself would be assigned to a night patrol about once a month.
Each night patrol consisted of a two-man team, watching each otherâs backs.
Wary of being spotted by the night patrol officers, Chen Pingâan moved with extreme caution. He had now reached Qi Blood First Level Perfection, and his bodyâs coordination and endurance were greatly enhanced.
As luck would have it, combined with his deliberate caution, he didnât encounter any night patrol officers along the way.
A burly man guarded the entrance to the Black Market. Seeing the masked Chen Pingâan approach, he stated expressionlessly,
"Two small coins to enter. No fighting inside. Otherwise, youâll face the consequences!"
Chen Pingâan was prepared for this. He paid the two small coins without a word and walked into the Black Market.
The Black Market was quite lively, with a considerable number of people coming and going. However, most were either masked, wearing hoods, or had on bamboo hats. Almost everyone wore an outfit meant to conceal their identity.
Chen Pingâan deliberately avoided these people as he sized up his surroundings.
On both sides, people had set up stalls at regular intervals. A cloth spread on the ground with a few items on it was all it took to make a stall.
The Black Market wasnât large, and Chen Pingâan quickly made a circuit. He found all sorts of things for sale.
There were antiques and curios, swords and spears, Soft Armor and Leather Armor, and even Medicinal Ginseng...
Chen Pingâan even saw someone selling a small crossbow.
That was a dangerous weapon, a regulated item!
With it, even an ordinary person could, at the right moment, severely injure or even kill someone who had stepped onto the path of Martial Dao Cultivation.
Even with his Qi Blood First Level Perfection and skin as tough as thin cowhide, he would still find it difficult to withstand the power of a crossbow bolt.
The crossbow was powerful, but Chen Pingâanâs mind was as calm as still water. He had no intention of asking about it. He had come here for one purpose only: to sell the Iron Cloth Shirt.
He found a relatively empty spot, placed his handwritten copy of the Iron Cloth Shirt Technique on the ground, and sat down cross-legged.
Although he was in a hurry to sell it, he didnât plan on hawking it to everyone he saw.
Doing so would, for one, be much riskier. And two, it would needlessly devalue the Iron Cloth Shirt.
Most people who came to the Black Market were deeply calculating and would already be suspicious of his techniqueâs authenticity. If he actively tried to push it, he would seem too desperate, making them even more distrustful.
Rather than do that, it was better to wait quietly.
Chen Pingâan had only just sat down when someone approached his stall.
The man was short and stout, dressed in black, and wore a bamboo hat.
"What are you selling here?"
"A Martial Arts Technique, Iron Cloth Shirt!"
Chen Pingâan looked up, gave him a cool glance, and adopted an aloof demeanor.
"Tch. The bookletâs binding is so plain. You say itâs a Martial Arts Technique, and Iâm just supposed to believe itâs a Martial Arts Technique?"
The man sneered.
But despite his words, he squatted down, intending to flip through the booklet.
SMACK!
Chen Pingâanâs hand was like a gust of wind, slapping the manâs outstretched hand away.
"Donât touch it if youâre not buying!"
This move from Chen Pingâan startled the short, stout man in the bamboo hat.
"Fine, I wonât look! Whatâd you hit me for?!"
He muttered and walked away resentfully.
âHe must have at least reached the entry level of Martial Dao Cultivation!â
âThe stall owner had looked so frail. He had been hoping to take advantage and see if he could get something for nothing, but he hadnât expected the guy to be a tough nut to crack.â
After the short man in the bamboo hat left, people would occasionally come over to ask what he was selling. But most were just asking, with no intention of buying.
A full hour passed, and Chen Pingâan still hadnât sold the Iron Cloth Shirt.
âThese Black Market deals are really cautious, especially when it comes to Martial Arts Techniques. Do I really have to ask Monkey Head and the others for some silver tomorrow?â
Just as Chen Pingâan was lost in thought, a figure stopped in front of his stall.
The figure was burly and unmasked, with a full beard and bright, piercing eyes. One look was enough to tell he wasnât someone to be trifled with.
"What are you selling?"
"Iron Cloth Shirt."
Chen Pingâan glanced at the man and felt a faint sense of threat. However, based on his feeling, the man didnât seem to have reached Qi Blood First Level Perfection.
âHis body is brimming with Qi Blood; heâs probably reached the entry level of the Martial Dao.â
"The Black Market is full of fakes. How can you guarantee this technique of yours is real!?"
The bearded man stared at Chen Pingâan.
Sensing that the man seemed genuinely interested in buying, Chen Pingâan finally focused his gaze on him.
"You can look through the first few pages of the Iron Cloth Shirt and judge for yourself. Also, Iâve learned the Iron Cloth Shirt myself, from this very booklet."
"Oh?"
The bearded man sized up Chen Pingâan with interest.
Although Chen Pingâan was masked and his features were unclear, his physique couldnât be hidden.
Iron Cloth Shirt, an Outer Sect Hard Skill!
Cultivators of this skill develop a powerful physique, a thick build, strong bones and muscles, and abundant Qi Blood.
But looking at Chen Pingâan, there was no trace that he had cultivated the Iron Cloth Shirt.
Indeed, perhaps due to his Golden Finger, even though Chen Pingâan had reached Minor Achievement in the Iron Cloth Shirt, his appearance was unchanged, with no significant change in his build.
"If you donât believe me, youâre welcome to test it!"
Chen Pingâan calmly looked at the bearded man before him.
"Interesting."
The bearded man laughed.
"You say youâve cultivated the Iron Cloth Shirt. How about this: you take a punch from me. If you can remain standing, Iâll buy this Iron Cloth Shirt manual from you. How about it!?"
"Fighting is forbidden in the Black Market!"
Chen Pingâan said coolly.
"Tch, coward! Next time you try to bluff, make it more believable. With your skinny frame, Iron Cloth Shirt? More like a babyâs exercise!"
The bearded man sneered a few more times and was about to leave.
"We canât fight inside the Black Market. If you donât believe me, letâs compete in strength instead. If I win, you buy this Iron Cloth Shirt for ten taels of silver!"
Chen Pingâanâs voice rang out. The bearded man, who had just taken a step to leave, pulled his foot back upon hearing this.
"And what if you lose?"
"If I lose, Iâll give you one tael of silver."
"Hahaha, a free tael of silver! Compete in strength? How?"
"Something simple. Weâll arm wrestle!" Chen Pingâan said calmly.
"Alright! Arm wrestling with me, youâve got guts!"
The bearded man flexed his arm, which was as thick as an ordinary personâs thigh.
"Letâs go over there!"
Chen Pingâan pointed to a rock not far away.
"Fine, letâs go!"