Chapter 60

Chapter 60: Black Market Deal

Meanwhile, Ye Chu Xue was finally found by the disciples sent to search for her and rushed back to the sect.

When An Ze and Bai Yang saw her—blood-soaked, her condition uncertain—they panicked and hurried to beg the Sect Master for help.

With no other choice, the Sect Master summoned Lan Le.

Lan Le still held a grudge. The moment he arrived and saw the unconscious master and disciple, he clicked his tongue.

[Retribution?]

[One still hadn’t woken up, and the other had fresh injuries. How interesting.]

Obeying orders, he gave Ye Chu Xue a cursory examination, then lazily produced a pill and had someone feed it to her.

“All right. She’ll wake up soon. That’s all I can do. Let them sort out the rest themselves. Senior Sister Ye is an expert in alchemy—people like us can’t compare.”

“Junior Brother Lan, why are you still being so snide?” the Sect Master snapped.

Already frantic, he only bristled more under Lan Le’s mocking tone.

Lan Le glanced at him with cool indifference, flicked his sleeve, and walked away as if he couldn’t be bothered to look back.

He’d only come at all out of respect for the Sect Master.

Otherwise, even if they died, why would he lift a finger and invite trouble?

“…”

The Sect Master’s eyelids twitched. Helplessness rose like a tide in his chest.

[These people are getting harder and harder to manage!]

“Senior Sister Ye! Senior Sister Ye!” An Ze hovered beside the bed, taut as a bowstring. “Are you feeling any better?”

Seeing Ye Chu Xue covered in blood earlier had nearly made his heart stop.

[Nothing can happen to her.]

Ye Chu Xue’s lashes trembled. She forced her eyes open, but before she could answer, she jerked and spat out several mouthfuls of blood.

“Ugh…”

Dark clots mixed into the red, thick and ugly.

“Pills… my pills…” Even as she gagged, she fumbled for her storage ring—then froze.

The ring was gone.

“The ring… my ring… it’s gone!”

Her pupils shook. She searched her sleeves, her waist, the bedding—everywhere. Panic flushed her face an unnatural red.

“What? Your storage ring is missing?” An Ze blurted.

Everyone around the bed went still.

They made her look again and again, then dragged in the disciples who’d carried her back to question them. One by one, they shook their heads—no one had seen it.

“Impossible…” Ye Chu Xue’s voice turned hoarse. “My ring… my pills are in there. Everything is in there!”

She tried to sit up, then to get out of bed. Her legs gave, and An Ze caught her, supporting her as she staggered forward.

“It was… someone from the Shen Xing Auction House,” she gasped, hatred turning her eyes bloodshot. “Their people… that person was a demonic cultivator! The auction house… hiding a demonic cultivator…”

“Sect Master… you have to help us!”

The moment she thought of that demonic cultivator, it felt like her heart was bleeding.

[If I hadn’t run into him, I would’ve brought the pills back already.]

“A demonic cultivator?” Bai Yang jolted. “There’s a demonic cultivator at the auction house?”

[He hadn’t noticed anything at all.]

“Yes…” Ye Chu Xue nodded hard, breath shaking. “That auction host—he’s a demonic cultivator!”

Her fingers curled into a claw. “He appeared the moment I left. He tried to steal my pills… It had to be him. It had to be him who took my storage ring…”

She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

After cultivating for so many years, everything she owned was in that storage ring. Losing it wasn’t much different from having her life taken.

“Enough.” The Sect Master’s fury surged. “We’re going to the Shen Xing Auction House. They dared to shelter a demonic cultivator and set their sights on a true disciple of the Heaven-Questioning Sect. I want to see what explanation they think they can give!”

He called two elders at once and led Ye Chu Xue and the others straight out.

[He would demand an explanation.]

—

In the Black Market trading district, Song Wan Ning moved beneath a black robe that hid her from head to toe.

The moment she stepped into the main hall, someone approached with practiced speed.

“Fellow Daoist, are you here to sell or to buy?”

“To sell.” Song Wan Ning kept her voice low. “And what I’m selling isn’t ordinary. I want a face-to-face deal with your boss.”

The Black Market had branches throughout the Immortal Realm. This one was only two cities away from the auction house—close enough to sell, return, and keep her timing clean.

Back at the Song Family, that Spirit Bead was still stubbornly enduring scorching flames. She didn’t have time to deal with it yet.

First, she would sell the storage ring.

“Heh. Our boss isn’t someone you can meet whenever you please.” The attendant clasped his hands with a bright smile, but his feet didn’t budge. “I hope Fellow Daoist will forgive us.”

Song Wan Ning didn’t press. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, amused. “Fine. I don’t have to meet them. I’m only worried you won’t be able to handle this treasure.”

Her ease—almost arrogant in its carelessness—made the attendant’s smile tighten.

[If I let a real treasure slip away, I’ll be the one punished.]

“Please wait, Fellow Daoist. I’ll report it at once!”

Song Wan Ning nodded and wandered the hall at an unhurried pace.

Most cultivators here were shrouded like she was, unwilling to be recognized. The goods that changed hands in the Black Market rarely saw the light of day.

Ye Chu Xue’s storage ring had been given by Gu Qing Yuan when she first joined. There were restrictions inside. If Song Wan Ning forcibly erased Ye Chu Xue’s spiritual imprint, Gu Qing Yuan would definitely notice.

[It would invite trouble for no benefit.]

Better to toss it into the Black Market.

[Two birds with one stone.]

Before long, the attendant returned, his demeanor markedly more respectful.

“The master will see you.”

Song Wan Ning’s lips curved. She followed him into a hidden room.

Only a candle the size of a bean burned faintly, its thin flame casting wavering shadows across the walls.

The door shut with a slow, soft click.

Song Wan Ning dragged a chair back, sat, and crossed one leg over the other with blatant ease.

A figure stepped out from the darkness. A soft chuckle spilled into the room.

“Fellow Daoist,” the newcomer purred, “you’ve got some nerve.”

The Black Market master emerged into the candlelight—a peerless beauty dressed in fitted black, every line of her posture made for seduction.

Song Wan Ning lifted her brows, surprise flickering into open admiration.

So this was the master of the Black Market.

“Ha…” The woman’s eyes swept over Song Wan Ning. “So Fellow Daoist is a young lady…”

She walked over with effortless confidence. In just a few steps she was close enough to lean against Song Wan Ning as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Slender hands settled on Song Wan Ning’s shoulders, then began to drift lower with leisurely intent. Her gaze was a hook, her smile sweet as poison.

Song Wan Ning caught those wandering hands and chuckled.

“Put away your Soul-Seizing Art. It won’t work on me.”

For a heartbeat, the Black Market master’s smile stiffened—then deepened, as if she’d found the whole thing even more entertaining.

She stroked the back of Song Wan Ning’s hand before withdrawing.

“So you’re a Nascent Soul Stage True Lord.” Her tone softened into something like respect. “My apologies. I failed to show proper courtesy.”

She settled into the chair across from Song Wan Ning, eyes glittering.

“Speak. What kind of deal do you want with me?”