Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Trade Market

At first, only a handful of people came here to sell things. Gradually, more sellers showed up, then more buyers, and before long it became a large trade market.

Before entering, Ling Mo saw a sign at the entrance listing the rules.

1. Setting up a stall required a service fee: 500 yuan per day per person, or half a jin of rice.
2. Theft, robbery, and similar behavior were forbidden. If caught, suffer the consequences yourself.
3. All transactions were voluntary…

Ling Mo still had some cash on hand. She figured she should spend what she could while money still meant anything.

Food wasn’t her problem, so she wouldn’t fight others for it. But maybe she could find something useful here.

The trade market wasn’t like a supermarket or a mall—no long queues at the entrance. Ling Mo moved with the crowd and drifted deeper inside.

Up close, it seemed like you could buy anything… except food.

Which made sense. Food was priceless now. Rice had shot up to 1,000 yuan per jin, and even then, you still couldn’t get it if you weren’t fast enough.

Ling Mo scanned the stalls. Some items were new, some old.

The old ones were mostly secondhand—people pulling unused things from home, hoping to trade for something practical. Clothes, bags, that kind of thing.

The new items came from mall vendors. After the mall cleared out the first three floors, or when vendors couldn’t afford the rent anymore, they brought their goods out here instead. Better to sell something and keep the household afloat than let inventory rot in a warehouse.

Ling Mo walked from one end to the other and didn’t see any miracle bargains.

Of course. Scoring some legendary deal was a fantasy that only happened in novels.

She didn’t let it discourage her. She bought some pots and pans, then wandered toward a cluster of shoe stalls, planning to pick up a few pairs.

There were several shoe vendors nearby. She didn’t feel like squeezing into a crowd, so she chose the stall with the fewest people.

After one careful look, she understood why. This stall’s quality was the best—and the reason it was empty was just as obvious.

It was expensive, and the boss didn’t bargain. Not even a little.

Customers pleaded and argued until they were hoarse. He didn’t drop the price by a single yuan.

“Boss,” Ling Mo asked, “how much are these?”

The boss looked her over. “Five hundred per pair. No bargaining.”

Having already seen the man’s stubbornness with other customers, Ling Mo didn’t waste breath. She pulled out her money and bought the pairs she wanted on the spot.

The boss blinked in surprise.

Plenty of people asked the price. Every one of them complained it was too expensive, then tried to haggle. This was the first person who’d paid without a fight.

Ling Mo chose five pairs in dark colors. Last round taught her a painful lesson—white sneakers got filthy too easily, and once they stained, they were a nightmare to scrub clean.

While bagging the shoes, the boss lowered his voice in warning. “Young lady, don’t pay so quickly when you buy things. You’ll get yourself watched.”

Ling Mo shot him a look. If he’d allowed bargaining, she would’ve bargained. He left her no room. She was only paying quickly because she didn’t want to waste time.

She opened her wallet and shrugged. “Even if they watch me, it won’t help. I just spent everything.”

The eyes tracking her from the shadows noticeably thinned.

As for the ones that remained, Ling Mo didn’t care.

A few days ago, authorities had busted a criminal gang and executed several people to scare the rest. The city was still chaotic in places, but overall the security officers were holding the line.

Compared to overseas, it was night and day. From the news, Ling Mo had seen that many awakened players abroad had already started carving out their own little kingdoms.

On her way home, she passed a garbage truck clearing trash from the street.

Then she noticed something strange.

There was nobody in the truck.

She looked again—really looked—and the machine itself felt familiar.

Wasn’t this the interstellar machine she sold earlier?

They’d repaired it. And not only that—they’d modified it into a fully automated garbage truck.

Talent. Pure talent.

Ling Mo felt even more certain she’d made the right call selling it. In her hands, it would’ve been nothing but scrap metal.

Back home, she plugged in her e-bike to charge, then stored everything she’d bought into her pocket space.

A mosquito buzzed near her ear.

Mosquitoes these days were nasty. One bite didn’t just draw blood—it itched like hell. Ling Mo had no interest in suffering through that.

Even with her mental power keeping them from biting her, the buzzing alone was enough to drive her insane.

She blended a few mint leaves with water into a thin juice, poured it into a spray bottle, and misted the room.

The effect was better than insecticide. And the air smelled fresh, without any worry about toxins.

Once the buzzing finally stopped, Ling Mo dropped onto the sofa and opened the game forum.

Two topics dominated the front page: water-chilling stone and the player deaths.

The twenty-some players who’d shown symptoms earlier were all confirmed dead now. Their bodies had been burned.

Messages scrolled past:

“Li Da Shao: I saw that lake too. The water smelled weird, so I didn’t go close.”

“Hahaha: You’re lucky. You brushed past death.”

“Spring Breeze Greens You: Soy Sauce Drunk, are you there? If you see this, reply. I’ll provide you a luxury apartment in the imperial capital—move-in ready. I can guarantee you the same lifestyle you had before the extreme heat.”

“Eating Is a Blessing: Give it up. Lots of people are looking for Soy Sauce Drunk. She probably won’t even read your offer. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

“Wild Rose: Heard someone didn’t believe the warnings and carried a water-chilling stone with them. Severe frostbite—sent straight to the hospital.”

“I Love Hotpot: With this happening, shouldn’t Soy Sauce Drunk step up and take responsibility?”

“Laugh and Watch: Are you blind? It literally said not to carry it. If someone wants to die, that’s their choice. What does it have to do with Soy Sauce Drunk?”

Ling Mo closed the forum and checked her messages. Plenty of people were trying to contact her, hoping she’d list more water-chilling stone.

The loudest of them was 123 Wood.

He’d kept up a steady rhythm—one message every five minutes. If she didn’t reply, he just sent another, each one ending with a pitiful Xi Xi sticker.

“123 Wood: How many waterwood stone do you have left? We want to buy in bulk.”

“Soy Sauce Drunk: Same as water-chilling stone. No bargaining.”

“123 Wood: No problem. But I want to ask—does waterwood stone also have a time limit like water-chilling stone?”

“Soy Sauce Drunk: Keep it near plants and it’s fine. If it’s away from plants, it lasts half a month, then becomes an ordinary stone and can’t be restored.”