Chapter 7: Local Cultivators Cheat, Swindle, and Deceive
âErniuâs meaning was almost obvious: the Zhou family of beast tamers had a talisman-crafting inheritance.
But, thinking about it, it made senseâafter all, the Zhou family of beast tamers had centuries of foundation.â
Looking at the night outside, Lin Changâan frowned, then finally let out a wave of emotion.
âI didnât expect that just half a year ago I was still running around for spirit crystals, and now Iâm already planning for mid-grade first-level talisman techniques.
Indeed, human nature is greedy.â
Lin Changâan shook his head with a smile.
A low-grade first-level talisman spanned from spirit crystals to spirit stones.
So the span for a mid-grade first-level talisman would be even largerâstarting at three spirit stones.
âBut itâs not that they donât exist outside, itâs just that very few cultivators have mastery of them, and occasionally they show up at auctions.â
âBut the downside of joining a cultivation clan is the lack of freedom. With this grand marketplace pioneering operation, it probably wonât settle down for the next two or three years. At such a time, the terms offered by the major families should be more generous.â
Lin Changâan analyzed this internally, and his hands werenât idle.
He kept manipulating the Green Bamboo Sword, continuously taking it in and out of his storage pouch.
Until the night deepened and the marketplace fell silent, Lin Changâan finally lifted his head to look outside.
âFirst, let me go to the black marketâtry my luck, and more importantly, exchange for some spirit crystals.â
Then Lin Changâan placed the thick stack of low-grade first-level Swift Talismans he had drawn into his storage pouch.
He also stored the Green Bamboo Sword in the pouch.
His constant practice manipulating the artifact in and out of storage during his free time wasnât merely out of novelty.
It was to master finding the optimal position, so he could swiftly retrieve the artifact.
âIâm going to sell some low-grade first-level talismans to the poorâwho the hell, a mid-stage Qi Refinement cultivator, would want these? Unless theyâre madly poor.â
Staring into the mirror, Lin Changâan smiled, but the next moment the muscles in his face began to twitch, and even his body changed a bit.
A face full of rugged flesh, a grim visage emerged, looking entirely different from his original appearance.
After using a skill he hadnât used in a long time, Lin Changâan wore a satisfied smile.
âThis way, going to the black market is much safer.â
Before entering the cultivation world, he had been practicing martial arts in the mortal realm.
As they say, mastering both literature and martial arts grants access to riches and nobilityâhe chose to go to the capital.
Unexpectedly, by chance, inside the princeâs mansion he met Elder Lu, Master Lu.
Thatâs how he came to have the subsequent twenty years of cultivation experience.
âBut I still canât be careless.â
After using the mastery-level Breath Concealment Technique, he lowered his aura to the second level of Qi Refinement.
With this skill, Lin Changâan was confident that unless someone was at sixth level Qi Refinement or above, ordinary fourth- or fifth-level Qi cultivators couldnât detect him.
Looking at his disguised appearance, Lin Changâan nodded in satisfaction.
He changed into a black robe and bamboo hat; before heading out, he also grabbed an ordinary-world treasure sword he had purchased earlier.
---
Under the night sky, many figures were already present in a shantytown on the outskirts of the marketplace.
This was the so-called black market.
Besides goods that couldnât be openly displayed or were feared to be coveted, there was another important point: stall fees here were extremely low.
Beast-beast meat, talismans, elixirs, and even artifacts could all be found here.
People who came here were in a hurry, heads down, silently snapping up what they wanted and leaving immediately.
After all, extremely low stall fees implied relative insecurity.
So everyone here tried hard to hide their identities.
The black market only existed for two hours each night; once dawn broke, it would be deserted.
There were no hawkersâonly stall signs stood in front of each stall.
ăBeast-beast meat: 12 catties for one spirit crystală
ăFireball Talisman: two spirit crystals per piece; six pieces for ten spirit crystalsă
Lin Changâan, who was familiar with the black market, handed over a spirit crystal.
Under his bamboo hat, his grim visage made many lower their heads.
At his stall, he had placed a sign:
ăLow-grade first-level Swift Talisman: two spirit crystals per piece; six pieces for ten spirit crystalsă
Talismans were consumablesâespecially high-mobility ones like Swift and defensive types that enhance survival chancesâalways in short supply.
âSix pieces!â
Lin Changâan had barely finished setting up when a hooded figure approached.
Without a word, they tossed down ten spirit crystals in a low voice.
Lin Changâan silently took out six Swift Talismans.
The first transaction was completed.
He knew that if he offered seven talismans for ten spirit crystals, theyâd all sell out quicklyâbut that would draw too much attention.
To stand out is admirable only if you have the ability.
When you lack that ability, blending in is the path to survival.
âSure enough, many people have come into the marketplace recently.â
While selling at his stall, Lin Changâan was also observing the people around him.
Having once lived here for five years before moving out, he was quite familiar with this place.
It was obvious that the marketplaceâs pioneering operation had attracted many drifting cultivators; the population had increased at least threefold.
This caused the outermost goods to sell particularly fast.
Within half an hour, Lin Changâanâs Swift Talismans were all sold out, but he didnât feel relievedâinstead, he felt some worry.
The increase in cultivators meant goods were selling, but it also meant more outsiders.
Outsiders posed the biggest problem: they didnât follow rules.
âI hope this time thereâs no major unrest.â
Having lived around here for twenty years and having experienced such events multiple times, Lin Changâan considered himself somewhat of an elder.
He secretly shook his headâfortunately, he no longer lived on the outskirts.
He then packed up his stall and headed deeper into the black market to try his luckâsee if he could find any genuine mid-grade first-level talisman handbooks.
After wandering around, Lin Changâanâs mouth twitched.
As expected, he'd been too optimisticâit wasnât that there werenât any, but there were too many.
Talisman handbooks, alchemy formulas, even artifact refinement manuals and formation diagramsâthey were all here.
But the prices were absurdâfrom a few spirit crystals to over a dozen spirit stones for the priciest.
âSure enough, with more outsiders, the old-timers in the marketplace started setting traps.â
If you said outsiders didnât observe rules, local cultivators scammed at will.
Who would dare buy that?
Nobody could guarantee it was realâand this was the black market: once scammed, you couldnât find anyone to hold accountable.
Of course, experienced people could recognize fakes just from glimpsed content.
But the danger lies in those more professional: they show you a genuine piece, then the rest is fake.
Thatâs the black marketâanything is possible.
Despite that, countless new cultivators entered the cultivation world every year, dreaming of riding flying swords across the sky and becoming foundation-establishing masters.
âLooked through a bunchâjust fakes.â
Hoping to rely on his experience to sniff out a bargain, Lin Changâan shook his head.
As it turned out, those tales of great deals only existed in stories.
âGenuine mid-grade first-level talisman handbooks really are scarce.â
Unwilling to give up, he circled one more time, but in the end Lin Changâan resigned himself and gave up.
Even if he couldnât pick up a bargain, there were still illicit goods occasionally appearing in the black marketâperhaps from a hapless talisman master or their descendants being gutted; their dark items would surface here.
Sadly, Lin Changâan didnât have that kind of luck.
Before dawn, he shook his head and left the black market.
âBest to stick to solid work.â
Just as Lin Changâan left the marketplace, he was spotted.
Under the night sky, three figures walked out of the black marketâone ahead, two behind.
âBig brother, this is the guyâI've been watching him for a long time. He circled around three times and didnât buy anything.â
The three nodded in the dark.
No one wanders the black market without purpose.
Buying nothing meant one thing: his pockets were empty.
Empty pockets meant a poor ghost.
A poor ghost meant low cultivation.
Low cultivation meant easy to bully.
They can fleece him!