Volume Twelve: Invitation to Hell - Chapter Thirty-Six: Undercurrents of Turmoil

They hadn't walked more than a few steps when they spotted Du Ping. It was a classic case of "enemies are destined to meet," as he was just stepping out of a stall a short distance ahead. Yaoguang locked eyes with him instantly.

The group felt it was an omen of bad luck and decided to ignore him, but he caught sight of Yaoguang and suddenly grinned—a smile that bordered on manic.

This was utterly baffling, but Yaoguang couldn't be bothered to entertain him. She pretended not to see him and kept walking, passing right by him.

Just then, a hushed voice reached their ears: "I didn't expect the show to start so soon. Not only you, Phoenix, but all of you have been sold for a good price by me. Hahaha!" This was followed by an unabashed, wild laugh.

Yaoguang stopped in her tracks and turned to see Du Ping’s face, which was twisted in a brazen sneer.

Before she could speak, Du Ping shouted, "Master, one of the people I told you about is right here. Come out and take a look!"

What was this supposed to mean? Yaoguang frowned, staring back at the tent-like stall.

"Then have her stay behind," a haughty voice called out from inside the stall before the person even appeared. There was no pretense of friendliness; it was as if Yaoguang remaining behind was a foregone conclusion. Yaoguang found this amusing. Have her stay? There had to be a limit to such absurdity.

Within two seconds of the voice, an exceptionally tall figure emerged. The moment he stepped out, the group felt an illusion, or perhaps a psychological pressure.

As the tall figure in Taoist robes appeared, everyone felt a sinister chill creep across their skin and a gloom settle in their hearts. For a moment, it felt as though the light around them had vanished, leaving only that towering figure in their vision. They felt as if their very eyeballs were being compressed, and the noisy market fell silent, as if they had been thrust into a space of absolute stillness. Jiang Yun gripped Yaoguang’s arm tighter.

Releasing his spiritual energy to disrupt the surrounding magnetic field—Yaoguang didn't even raise her hand, yet a subtle layer of spiritual energy emanated from her, instantly neutralizing the dark, oppressive field.

Suddenly, the surroundings returned to normal. The sunlight reappeared, and the clamor of the crowd resumed. The figure in the Taoist robes seemed to retract his astonishing presence, checked his watch, and remarked meaningfully, "Very good. You recovered in less than five seconds."

Yaoguang remained completely unfazed. Was that all he had? This display of aura was purely a technique to suppress others with sheer force. However, among cultivators, those capable of releasing their aura were all masters of profound skill. This man could retract his presence at will, which was a higher level of mastery. Yaoguang, meanwhile, had neutralized it invisibly, proving that her cultivation was superior; she had simply been discreet enough to avoid notice.

Yaoguang studied the man for a moment and understood. He was riddled with Yin energy, eerie cold, and ghost qi—he was a practitioner of the dark arts, a true "Evil Cultivator." It was common knowledge that orthodox cultivators refined their inner vitality and absorbed the natural spiritual energy of the world. No matter how eccentric their behavior, their methods were fundamentally righteous.

But the Evil Cultivators? They practiced by absorbing Yin energy, and when necessary, corpse qi, death qi, and ghost qi.

It was simple: they were taking shortcuts. Too lazy for the arduous path of cultivation and the harmonization of Yin and Yang, they directly absorbed Yin energy to bolster their souls.

A strengthened soul meant extreme power, and all their techniques were devastatingly potent because every spell involved soul force.

However, Yin energy was inherently filled with negativity. Absorbing too much of it inevitably made these practitioners extreme and radical in personality. In this world, most Yin energy was derived from death and places where spirits gathered; one could imagine the negative effects of such an influence.

Therefore, Yaoguang did not take the man’s cold remarks as a compliment. He could turn hostile at any moment. The temperaments of Evil Cultivators were unpredictable, especially one with such high-level cultivation.

"Hahaha, then I shall take my leave," Du Ping laughed wildly, bowed respectfully to the man, and walked away.

The group didn't quite understand, but Yaoguang already grasped the situation. She gave Du Ping a cold look and said nothing, though a murderous intent stirred within her. For years, she had shown restraint, thinking he was merely a punk, but it was clear now that was not the case. Still, this wasn't the time to act; once the market officially opened, she would have a legitimate reason to deal with him.

"Very good. You remain so calm even when facing me," the man said, noting Yaoguang's silence.

"What else would you have me do?" Yaoguang replied coldly. She never sought trouble, but trouble had come knocking.

"Good. You have quite a backbone. That annoying boy didn't make it clear who you are. So, would you like to tell me yourself?" He spoke with his hands behind his back, his tone one of genuine interest.

"Guess," Yaoguang replied, feeling playful as she began to observe him carefully.

He was tall, perhaps nearly 1.9 meters, with broad shoulders and a sturdy frame that added to his imposing presence. His features were clean—not exactly handsome, but simple and neat. However, his eyes were gloomy and fierce, carrying an indescribable trace of evil. He tried to suppress that look, but it was impossible; an Evil Cultivator always carried a nauseating stench of malice.

He wore black Taoist robes, but they were open at the chest, revealing a shirt underneath—an inexplicably bizarre look that reflected his twisted nature.

Faced with Yaoguang’s blunt reply, he wasn't bothered. "These people are all with you. Come with me."

His tone was that of a command, and his eyes narrowed slightly, habitually turning fierce.

Xuan Chen muttered, "We don't look for trouble, but trouble finds us. If it comes, so be it; we aren't afraid. Who does this guy think he is, acting like a street hoodlum? Are we supposed to listen to him? How arrogant."

Chu Tianyou, hands in his pockets, tilted his head and said flatly, "We don't know you. Who are you?"

"Hahaha, good, very good." The man laughed, then stepped forward. As his smile vanished and his brows furrowed, his appearance became terrifying, fitting his aura. It looked as if he were ready to fight at the slightest provocation.

Several men in black gathered around, and Yaoguang noticed one slipping away in a hurry.

They were likely cursing their luck, thinking this group was nothing but trouble—first causing a scene that blocked the market, and now challenging this formidable figure.

"What's so good?" Chen Haixu pretended not to understand, picked at his ear, and turned away. "If there's nothing else, we're leaving." He knew they couldn't fight here, so there was no point in wasting words.

Yaoguang smiled and began to turn, but in that moment, she heard the man’s ragged, dark breathing—he was clearly enraged. She heard someone whisper, "Ancestor, let it go. We can't do it here."

Yaoguang saw out of the corner of her eye that the speaker was a young man.

It seemed this man wasn't alone; he belonged to one of the hidden factions here and held a high position. But none of that concerned her; she wasn't about to ruin her own business.

"Fine. I admit you have courage, plenty of it. My patience is limited. Sell me the artifacts you’re carrying; the price is negotiable, and I’ll even grant you my favor. If you don't sell... hmph." The man's voice sounded behind her.

Huo Mingkun’s anger surged. "So that’s how Du Ping sold us out. How do they know what we’re carrying?"

Yaoguang turned back and asked with a smile, "And what if we don't?"

"If you don't, your days in the Ghost Market will be difficult. And once you leave, you might find you can't sell them for anything at all," the man replied.

Yaoguang laughed and whispered to the others, "It’s just a threat. If we don't sell, he’ll make our stay here miserable. Even after we leave the Ghost Market, he has ways to deal with us outside so we can’t sell our items. Or perhaps he means to kill us and turn our belongings into ownerless property. Simply put, he thinks he has us cornered."

"Pfft," Huo Mingkun scoffed.

"If we do sell, what's your price?" Nalan Yu asked with a grin.

"So you’re not stupid after all. We can talk about the price. You’re a junior, so I won't bully you. If you want money or status, that’s even easier. I guarantee you’ll walk out of this market a person of great wealth and prestige." The man’s expression softened, and he sounded quite sincere.

He added, "It’s not convenient to talk here. Come inside."

"Oh, I was just asking. I didn't know these things were worth anything. Thanks for telling me!" With that, Nalan Yu turned and walked away. Why would he sell something his sister gave him? He was worried the man would just dirty them. He had already died once, and with his sister here, what was there to fear? He felt nothing but disdain for the man.

Yaoguang shook her head, amused, and held Jiang Yun’s hand as they followed Nalan Yu.

"You will regret this," the man hissed. Out of the corner of her eye, Yaoguang saw several men in black trailing them, clearly wanting to find their lodging.

As they walked, a sudden whirlwind kicked up behind them, blinding the men in black with dust and sand.

The Evil Cultivator’s eyes flashed with fierce, unsatisfied malice.

"Sis, I didn't check the calendar today. We go for a stroll and get bitten by a dog," Chen Haixu grumbled.

"And not just one—no, two old dogs," Jiang Yun added.

Nalan Yu laughed unreservedly.

Yaoguang joined in the laughter. As she did, she felt a resentful gaze fixed on her. She turned to see Du Ping, waiting to see her look miserable.

Yaoguang didn't let her smile fade; she ignored him completely and continued chatting with her friends.

An hour later, they finally exited the market. Neither Du Ping nor the man in black had followed them out, likely occupied with unfinished business. The group felt relieved and continued their banter, not giving those people another thought.