Path of the Sect Leader-Chapter 4: Setting Up Stall in the Ghost Market

A lone moon hung high, spilling molten silver across the Clear River. The water caught the light and turned into a gleaming ribbon that wound lazily downstream—serene, cold, and impossibly beautiful. Halfway along its course, a towering peak rose like a dark blade. The river grumbled, curved into a reluctant crescent around the mountain’s foot, then stubbornly resumed its westward journey.
At the summit, a perpetual bank of mist clung to the stone. Faint glimmers of lantern light flickered within. Only a Foundation Establishment cultivator—or someone carrying an illusion-breaking treasure—could pierce that veil and behold the true face of Clear River Market.
The market never slept. Yet in the deepest hours of the night, foot traffic thinned to a trickle.
A man and woman in matching cyan robes strolled in from the outskirts. The robes were clean but well-worn, the cloth nothing special. The man looked around thirty, tall, with a square jaw and thick brows that clashed oddly with his narrow eyes and thin lips. The woman appeared barely twenty, plain-featured yet radiating crisp competence. A goose-yellow sash cinched her waist, turning simple robes into something subtly alluring. She clung lightly to the man’s arm, body leaning just enough to declare: *mine*.
“Senior Brother, we took a bigger share this time. Old Sun looked upset. Should we make up the difference with some spirit stones?”
“Old Sun’s a decent sort—just stingy. The loot was awkward to split; he knows that. Someone always ends up with more or less. Stones would only bruise his pride. Let’s browse the ghost market later. If we spot something he’d like at a fair price, we’ll gift it when the chance comes.”
“Mm. Sounds good.”
They wandered the brightly lit pavilions first, window-shopping without buying. Every time they emerged empty-handed, the woman gave a soft laugh and a tiny shake of her head. Each time, pain flashed across the man’s eyes, followed by helpless guilt.
He reached down and pressed the hand looped through his arm. Their eyes met—understanding, sweet, and a little heartbreaking.
“To the ghost market, then,” he murmured, lingering on the word *later*.
“Later” tasted like a promise.
She answered with a firm little hum and nestled closer as they drifted toward the dimmer reaches.
The ghost market huddled beneath a single massive dome. One fist-sized glowstone embedded in the ceiling provided the only light—cheap, gloomy, perfect.
Fewer people meant the stalls clustered tight, yet the place felt anything but deserted. Voices stayed low, deals sealed with nods and the quiet clink of spirit stones sliding across cloth.
In the dead of night, closing rates actually rose. Everyone here meant business. Rumor claimed stolen goods sometimes surfaced too—nervous sellers, lightning-fast transactions, prices so low both parties pretended they hadn’t just committed a crime.
The woman gave a delicate cough and elbowed her companion. A subtle flick of her eyes directed him to a certain stall.
There, on a rough wooden sign:
*Pair of 80% new first-tier low-grade Spirit Bamboo Kites – price negotiable*
The stall owner was busy haggling with a pale-faced youth.
“One hundred first-tier stones is basically the same as one second-tier! Why won’t you take them?” the youth hissed, trying and failing to keep his voice down.
“Stop bullying me,” the stall owner shot back. “Everyone in Clear River knows the exchange rate. Anything less than one full second-tier stone and this talisman doesn’t move.”
“If it was any other element I’d pay without blinking! Water-aspect defense is the weakest!”
“Weakest, yes—until you’re standing in a sea of fire. Try popping a wood-aspect shield in a blaze and tell me how that works out. I’ve sold dozens. Never below one second-tier stone.”
They went back and forth until the youth noticed the pretty woman approaching. Pride kicked in.
“Fine, fine—I surrender. One hundred five first-tier stones, take it or leave it. I’m clean out of second-tier.”
He counted out the stones with bad grace, snatched the palm-sized yellow talisman, tucked it against his heart, and sauntered off—pausing only to wink at the girl.
“Pfft.” She failed to hide a laugh. “You two are ridiculous.”
The stall owner—face still flushed from the argument—managed a sheepish grin while pocketing the stones. “Desperate for spirit stones, or I wouldn’t have argued so long. What can I do for you?”
The woman stated their interest. The stall owner produced the two bamboo-and-silk kites. Her companion began a slow, meticulous inspection.
With nothing to do, the woman studied the seller.
Skinny. Thirtyish. Bright, darting eyes. Clean-shaven, average features—almost handsome, if not for the feverish restlessness that clung to him like cheap incense. Shoulders hunched, neck craned, he watched every movement of the man’s hands as though expecting the kites to be snatched away. Mouth ringed with cracked skin. The posture of a man who slept with one hand on his storage pouch.
*Scrooge incarnate,* she judged. *This one’s going to be a pain.*
Half an hour later…
Qi Xiu lay flat on his back in the inn, staring at the ceiling as if it had personally betrayed him.
“That woman could haggle the devil out of his horns…”
Two Spirit Bamboo Kites plus one elemental defense talisman—ten second-tier stones total. She’d forced him to throw in several vials of minor healing and qi-recovery pills as “goodwill.”
He ran the numbers again. If the Golden Light Cymbals fetched seventy at auction (after commission), he’d scrape together exactly enough for the Foundation Establishment Pill without selling the storage bag. Fifty-five meant pawning the bag. Sixty-eight was the new prayer threshold after today’s windfall.
“I was too greedy the first few days,” he muttered. “Turned away perfectly decent offers because I wanted top price. Then panic set in and I started taking less than those early buyers offered. Idiot.”
Self-loathing carried him into uneasy sleep.
He woke at dusk, wolfed down a bowl of noodles, and hurried back to the ghost market. By now half the permanent hawkers greeted him by face if not by name.
Stalling was brutal work.
Prime spots belonged to late-stage Qi Refining cultivators by unspoken law. Bottom-feeders like Qi Xiu were relegated to corners where feet barely passed.
Yet corners could be rented by the month. Leave a sign with your hours and wares, and serious buyers would seek you out.
The trick was never looking prosperous. High-value deals were concluded only after Qi Xiu pretended negotiations had failed, put on a long-suffering face, and “reluctantly” produced more stock from his room. Wealth on display invited knives in the dark.
He had barely settled onto his straw mat when a white-robed middle-aged cultivator strode up, nose in the air.
“Earth-aspect defense talisman. Still got it?”
“Right here.” Qi Xiu’s heart leapt.
“How many? Price?”
“Last one. Two second-tier stones.”
The man tossed down two glittering stones without blinking, snatched the talisman, and vanished into the gloom.
Qi Xiu nearly laughed aloud. A genuine mark—finally.
Lady Luck, it seemed, had decided to blow him a kiss.
By midnight the stall was empty. Every last talisman, pill, and scrap of herb—gone. At excellent prices.
Storage bag now held nothing but spirit stones and the clothes on his back. Even his spare Cleansing Talismans had walked away for half a stone apiece.
Thanks to the final day’s miracle, sixty-eight second-tier stones from the cymbals would let him keep the bag. Master had never said he could sell it—and without it, ferrying sect treasures in secret became impossible.
Qi Xiu returned to the inn early, lightness in his step. For one heartbeat he almost skipped like a child.
He caught himself mid-bounce, cheeks heating.
“Almost thirty years old and still hopping when happy… Guess when the pressure lifts, the boy comes back out.”
He laughed softly, sat cross-legged on the bed, and began circulating the Evergreen Art.
To his shock, the spiritual energy that had refused to budge for nearly fifteen years shivered—ever so slightly—like a rusted gate creaking open for the first time.
【Terminology Updates – Chapter 4】
- Earth-aspect defense talisman (土元素防御罩): first-tier high-grade elemental shield talisman
- Water-aspect defense talisman (水元素防御罩): noted for situational strengths despite lower raw defense
- Ghost market stall rules: prime spots reserved for late-stage Qi Refining; corners for early-stage; monthly rental common