Chapter 7: Local Cultivators Cheat, Swindle, and Deceive
“Erniu’s meaning was almost obvious: the Zhou family of beast tamers had a talisman-crafting inheritance.
But, thinking about it, it made sense—after all, the Zhou family of beast tamers had centuries of foundation.”
Looking at the night outside, Lin Chang’an frowned, then finally let out a wave of emotion.
“I didn’t expect that just half a year ago I was still running around for spirit crystals, and now I’m already planning for mid-grade first-level talisman techniques.
Indeed, human nature is greedy.”
Lin Chang’an 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 larger—starting at three spirit stones.
“But it’s not that they don’t exist outside, it’s just that very few cultivators have mastery of them, and occasionally they show up at auctions.”
“But the downside of joining a cultivation clan is the lack of freedom. With this grand marketplace pioneering operation, it probably won’t settle down for the next two or three years. At such a time, the terms offered by the major families should be more generous.”
Lin Chang’an analyzed this internally, and his hands weren’t 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 Chang’an finally lifted his head to look outside.
“First, let me go to the black market—try my luck, and more importantly, exchange for some spirit crystals.”
Then Lin Chang’an 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 wasn’t merely out of novelty.
It was to master finding the optimal position, so he could swiftly retrieve the artifact.
“I’m going to sell some low-grade first-level talismans to the poor—who the hell, a mid-stage Qi Refinement cultivator, would want these? Unless they’re madly poor.”
Staring into the mirror, Lin Chang’an 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 hadn’t used in a long time, Lin Chang’an wore a satisfied smile.
“This way, going to the black market is much safer.”
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 nobility—he chose to go to the capital.
Unexpectedly, by chance, inside the prince’s mansion he met Elder Lu, Master Lu.
That’s how he came to have the subsequent twenty years of cultivation experience.
“But I still can’t be careless.”
After using the mastery-level Breath Concealment Technique, he lowered his aura to the second level of Qi Refinement.
With this skill, Lin Chang’an was confident that unless someone was at sixth level Qi Refinement or above, ordinary fourth- or fifth-level Qi cultivators couldn’t detect him.
Looking at his disguised appearance, Lin Chang’an 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.
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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 couldn’t 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 hawkers—only stall signs stood in front of each stall.
【Beast-beast meat: 12 catties for one spirit crystal】
【Fireball Talisman: two spirit crystals per piece; six pieces for ten spirit crystals】
Lin Chang’an, 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:
【Low-grade first-level Swift Talisman: two spirit crystals per piece; six pieces for ten spirit crystals】
Talismans were consumables—especially high-mobility ones like Swift and defensive types that enhance survival chances—always in short supply.
“Six pieces!”
Lin Chang’an had barely finished setting up when a hooded figure approached.
Without a word, they tossed down ten spirit crystals in a low voice.
Lin Chang’an silently took out six Swift Talismans.
The first transaction was completed.
He knew that if he offered seven talismans for ten spirit crystals, they’d all sell out quickly—but 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.
“Sure enough, many people have come into the marketplace recently.”
While selling at his stall, Lin Chang’an 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 marketplace’s 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 Chang’an’s Swift Talismans were all sold out, but he didn’t feel relieved—instead, he felt some worry.
The increase in cultivators meant goods were selling, but it also meant more outsiders.
Outsiders posed the biggest problem: they didn’t follow rules.
“I hope this time there’s no major unrest.”
Having lived around here for twenty years and having experienced such events multiple times, Lin Chang’an considered himself somewhat of an elder.
He secretly shook his head—fortunately, he no longer lived on the outskirts.
He then packed up his stall and headed deeper into the black market to try his luck—see if he could find any genuine mid-grade first-level talisman handbooks.
After wandering around, Lin Chang’an’s mouth twitched.
As expected, he'd been too optimistic—it wasn’t that there weren’t any, but there were too many.
Talisman handbooks, alchemy formulas, even artifact refinement manuals and formation diagrams—they were all here.
But the prices were absurd—from a few spirit crystals to over a dozen spirit stones for the priciest.
“Sure enough, with more outsiders, the old-timers in the marketplace started setting traps.”
If you said outsiders didn’t observe rules, local cultivators scammed at will.
Who would dare buy that?
Nobody could guarantee it was real—and this was the black market: once scammed, you couldn’t 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.
That’s the black market—anything 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.
“Looked through a bunch—just fakes.”
Hoping to rely on his experience to sniff out a bargain, Lin Chang’an shook his head.
As it turned out, those tales of great deals only existed in stories.
“Genuine mid-grade first-level talisman handbooks really are scarce.”
Unwilling to give up, he circled one more time, but in the end Lin Chang’an resigned himself and gave up.
Even if he couldn’t pick up a bargain, there were still illicit goods occasionally appearing in the black market—perhaps from a hapless talisman master or their descendants being gutted; their dark items would surface here.
Sadly, Lin Chang’an didn’t have that kind of luck.
Before dawn, he shook his head and left the black market.
“Best to stick to solid work.”
Just as Lin Chang’an left the marketplace, he was spotted.
Under the night sky, three figures walked out of the black market—one ahead, two behind.
“Big brother, this is the guy—I've been watching him for a long time. He circled around three times and didn’t buy anything.”
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!