Chapter Seventy-Two: The Joy of Bargaining in the Nameless District

After refining the soul-blood of Mao Yishan and Ran Ziyu, Zhou Xuanhong left the forest with his three followers, whose faces were still somewhat pale, and flew toward the direction of Free City.

A few days later, the aftereffects of losing their soul-blood subsided. Color returned to their cheeks, though their eyes were filled with complicated emotions and a sense of powerlessness toward the future.

To have one’s soul-blood controlled by Zhou Xuanhong was to have one’s life in another’s hands—no one could accept such a fate. Yet the dust had settled; blame lay only with their own lack of strength. Under Zhou Xuanhong’s overwhelming psychological control, resistance could not even arise.

Mao Yishan spoke first: “Ma...Master, what plans do you have? What would you have us do?”

Ahead, Zhou Xuanhong returned to himself and shook his head. In truth, he had accepted these three subordinates on a whim; three cultivators at the peak of Foundation Establishment were not much use, only extra hands for the coming great battle.

He said casually, “Don’t worry. Serve me well. When the battle comes, I’ll assign you a few minor tasks—nothing that should endanger your lives. Afterward, I’ll return your soul-blood. After all, your strength is of little import to me.”

At these words, the three showed obvious delight. If that were indeed the case, perhaps it was not so hard to accept.

But Zhou Xuanhong continued, “Moreover, as I said before, there will be a great opportunity—enough for you to break through to the Golden Core stage. Whether you seize it depends on your performance.”

Hearing this, the three found the proposition more appealing. With their current talent, their chances of reaching the Golden Core were already considerable, but an extra layer of security was worth the risk.

Setting aside Tu Shaoyan, the heretic cultivator, even Mao Yishan had grown disillusioned with the Sect of Form and Evolution. When the great war came, he would not choose to perish with his sect. As for Ran Ziyu, she knew herself well enough—she was no longer that kind of person. If Zhou Xuanhong could guarantee her safety, she was willing to take the risk.

The method of offering a stick after a sweet date is the simplest way to keep subordinates in line. Zhou Xuanhong had no interest in wasting more time on the trio; his mind was occupied with the possible situations upon entering Free City and how to respond.

Soon, the four arrived at the city gates, where a long line had formed as always. The guards and various cultivators were noisily haggling over the entrance fee—a rather amusing scene.

Zhou Xuanhong glanced toward the direction of the City Lord’s estate and sensed two powerful divine senses sweeping over them. One belonged to the Black Ghost Daoist, though he did not come out to greet Zhou Xuanhong, apparently wary of the three with him and uncertain of what Zhou Xuanhong was planning.

The four had all altered their appearances, disguising themselves as itinerant cultivators. They blended into the long queue and waited nearly an hour for their turn.

This time, Zhou Xuanhong had learned his lesson. He disguised himself as a portly merchant cultivator, with small eyes, thick lips, and four or five storage pouches dangling from his belt—an image straight out of a merchant’s handbook. Mao Yishan and the others played the role of his attendants, tasked with ensuring his safety.

The guard’s interest was piqued at once. He began to set the price: “Four friends, here to do business in Free City, are you not? You’re unfamiliar faces—first time here, I suppose? Well, since you’re new, I’ll give you this price!” As he spoke, he raised a hand to indicate the sum—fifty spirit stones.

Zhou Xuanhong’s face lit up with joy. “Five spirit stones! You’re too generous, friend—thank you for your kindness!” He reached for his spirit stones.

The guard hurriedly stopped him, his smile forced: “You misunderstood, my friend—it’s fifty spirit stones.”

Zhou Xuanhong’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by disgruntlement. “Fifty spirit stones?! That’s outrageous! This is our first time here, and we’re just doing small business. If we hand over fifty spirit stones, there’ll be nothing left for us!”

Seeing Zhou Xuanhong growing agitated, the guard hastened to appease him. “No need to get upset, friend. There’s always room to bargain. Since it’s your first time, I’ll sincerely offer you a discount—forty-five spirit stones. Does that work for you?”

Zhou Xuanhong shook his head repeatedly. “Not a chance, not a chance. The four of us have it tough—besides our own cultivation, we have younger siblings to support. If the entrance fee is this high, we’d better look elsewhere!”

When Zhou Xuanhong made as if to leave, the guard quickly grabbed his sleeve. “Wait! I understand—it’s not easy. How about this: my final and biggest discount, thirty-five spirit stones! Only thirty-five! You know how crowded Free City is; you’ll sell your wares in no time and make good profit. Let us earn a little too, won’t you?”

Zhou Xuanhong hesitated, but then gritted his teeth. “Forget it. Other cities and towns may have fewer people, but most don’t charge entrance fees. My little business—selling herbs I risked my life to collect—can’t stand up to Free City’s high entry fee.”

“Don’t go, friend! With the Sect of Form and Evolution and the Corpse Shade Sect fighting so fiercely, every extra mile is more danger!”

“I know, but nothing is scarier than poverty. I’ve survived the claws of spirit beasts; if I can’t earn some spirit stones, I won’t be able to maintain my cultivation.”

The guard realized he’d met his match and grumbled inwardly. With that belly of yours, you dare claim you’re struggling—you look ready to drip oil! Trying to fool a ghost, are you?

Thus, the two bantered back and forth for nearly a quarter of an hour, while those in line behind grew impatient. Finally, the guard coughed, sipped some spirit-infused water, and waved a hand.

“Friend, your bargaining skills are impressive—I admit defeat. Eight spirit stones, no more. Go on in.”

A look of triumph flashed across Zhou Xuanhong’s face; not even subduing Mao Yishan, Tu Shaoyan, and Ran Ziyu had made him this pleased.

“Agreed, agreed—let’s go!” He handed over eight spirit stones and led his three companions through the gates, heading toward the City Lord’s estate.

Mao Yishan, curious, asked, “Junior Brother, where are we going?”

Zhou Xuanhong replied calmly, “No need to ask. You’ll know in due time.”

Upon arriving at the City Lord’s estate, the guards asked nothing, simply ushering the four inside. They had received orders from the Black Ghost Daoist in advance.

The estate was as it had been before—dark clouds shrouded the sky, black mists coiled everywhere, skeletons and corpses lay scattered about, and the wailing of ghosts never ceased. Mao Yishan and Ran Ziyu, entering for the first time, couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath, while Tu Shaoyan, being a heretic cultivator, was unfazed—only intrigued that Zhou Xuanhong had dealings with the Black Ghost Daoist.

The Black Ghost Daoist’s voice echoed in Zhou Xuanhong’s mind-sea. “Young friend, why have you brought these three?”

Zhou Xuanhong replied, “Ignore them. They are my servants—their lives are in my hands.”

A swirl of black mist rose from the ground, trying to drag Zhou Xuanhong into the subterranean halls, but he blocked it with his divine soul.

He turned to Mao Yishan and the others. “Wait here.”

Then his body sank, descending hundreds of meters underground into a hollow space, its walls densely inlaid with white bones—a chilling sight.

The place was unchanged; the people familiar.

Zhou Xuanhong settled cross-legged on a cushion before a small table and smiled at the Black Ghost Daoist across from him. “Elder, it’s been a long time! Judging by your state, it looks like you’re close to breaking through to Nascent Soul.”

With a soul as strong as a late-stage Golden Core cultivator, Zhou Xuanhong could see that the Black Ghost Daoist’s cultivation was at the peak of Golden Core—closer to Nascent Soul than even Xuan Qizi and Liu Xiang!

Realizing Zhou Xuanhong had seen through his cultivation, the Black Ghost Daoist narrowed his eyes, trying to discern Zhou Xuanhong’s own level, but failed. Around Zhou Xuanhong’s neck hung a necklace—a mid-grade spiritual artifact acquired from a Golden Core master’s cave estate. Below Nascent Soul, few could see through his true cultivation.

The Black Ghost Daoist chuckled. “You’re quite capable, young friend. It seems your progress over these ten years is more than it appears. But you certainly made me wait—my Fierce Ghost Sect is about to fully merge with the Corpse Shade Sect. If you hadn’t come out of seclusion, I would have lost patience.”

Zhou Xuanhong had revealed the Black Ghost Daoist’s cultivation first to seize the initiative, but the Daoist tried to reclaim it by mentioning Zhou’s long seclusion and the Fierce Ghost Sect’s affairs.

Zhou Xuanhong laughed. “Ten years is a long time? Yet here I am. If your disciples were so easily assimilated, that must have been your intention, yes?”

Seeing the mockery in Zhou Xuanhong’s eyes, the Black Ghost Daoist burst into a raspy laugh. “You’re getting sharper, young friend—nothing escapes you. I’ve changed my mind. The combined power of the Fierce Ghost and Corpse Shade Sects has surprised even me. United, we’ll be second only to the Supreme Corpse Sect!”

Zhou Xuanhong shook his head. “Yet you still chose to work with me, because you’re unwilling to become a vassal of the Corpse Shade Sect. Besides, you must fend off pressure from other major powers and you’re uncertain of your position—after all, the Fierce Ghost Sect has only the vanished Free Immortal. But what if I told you that the Supreme Corpse Sect now treats the Corpse Shade and Form and Evolution Sects as mere fertilizer, and that Xuan Qizi, patriarch of the Form and Evolution Sect, is still alive? What then?”

The Black Ghost Daoist shot to his feet, black mist surging around him, his face incredulous. “Impossible!”

Zhou Xuanhong turned toward another direction and spoke: “Young Master Gu, what about you—how do you view these two revelations?”

In the space that had contained only two people, another two figures appeared: Gu Zhen and his white fox revealed themselves.

Gu Zhen chuckled. “Zhou, your divine soul is formidable—it explains your increasingly bold manner.”

Gu Zhen took a seat at the small table, stroking the white fox’s fur as he smiled. “What’s it to me? I’m just an observer. If anyone should be troubled, it’s our friend the Black Ghost Daoist.”

Zhou Xuanhong gazed into Gu Zhen’s eyes, then suddenly smiled. “I remember the meat of the Green-scaled Eagle was quite tender, especially the second one.”

Gu Zhen, always composed, paused mid-motion, a flicker of embarrassment and anger in his eyes, but it passed quickly. He smiled. “It was indeed excellent. Clearly, you’re well-informed, Zhou. I suppose the little insects in the small world were your doing?”

Zhou Xuanhong shook his head. “What insects? I was in seclusion at the time. It was the two peerless geniuses who shared that with me. Enough small talk—let’s discuss Xu Yuqi’s survival.”

He then laid out the Formation Evolution Manual and the Grand Evolution Art, as well as the anomalies within the Form and Evolution Sect over the years, presenting all his deductions and confirming that Xu Yuqi was alive—at least, that a strand of his soul remained. This astonished both listeners.

The Black Ghost Daoist asked, “So you must have a way to break the Evolution God Seal and thwart Xu Yuqi’s possession, do you not?”