Chapter 73

Jiang Xia’s eyes sharpened, just as he was about to act, a cold shout came from nearby: “Ye Feng, do Itachi intend to cause trouble at the entrance of the Tianji Pavilion?”

Everyone turned to look and saw a girl in silver armor striding forward, her waist-mounted sword gleaming with cold light—the standard equipment of the Demon Suppression Army.

The girl walked up beside Jiang Xia and the other, her gaze icy as she fixed it on Ye Feng: “A major battle is imminent. General Ye has ordered that no faction engage in private combat in the marketplace. Do Itachi dare defy military orders?”

Ye Feng’s face darkened—he clearly recognized the girl—but he still gritted his teeth and said: “Su Muxue, General Ye is my grandfather. Do Itachi dare use that excuse to control me?”

“And what if he is?” Su Muxue drew her sword, the tip aimed directly at Ye Feng. “At Shanhai Pass, no matter who Itachi are, I answer only to military orders. Leave now, or don’t blame me for being uncivil.”

Ye Feng met the coldness in Su Muxue’s eyes, glanced at the guards at the Tianji Pavilion entrance, then clenched his teeth and shot Jiang Xia a furious glare.

“Itachi got lucky this time—we’ll settle this in the training camp!” With that, he and his men left in sullen frustration.

Wang Teng watched Ye Feng’s retreating back and sneered: “What a piece of trash—only dares to bully others with family power.”

Su Muxue sheathed her sword and turned to Jiang Xia with a nod: “I’m Lieutenant Su Muxue of the Demon Suppression Army, sent by Lei Di to deliver the full training camp regulations to Itachi.”

“Lei Di?”

Seeing their puzzled expressions, Su Muxue explained: “That’s your Night Watch commander, Senior Lu Wujiu.”

“He’s worried Itachi’re new to Shanhai Pass and might get taken advantage of because Itachi don’t know the rules.”

Jiang Xia suddenly understood: “Thank Itachi, Lieutenant Su. Please also thank Senior Lu for us.”

Su Muxue smiled, a hint of curiosity in her eyes: “I’ve heard rumors that the Night Watch has produced two prodigies. Now that I’ve seen Itachi, the rumors are true.”

“Ye Feng is a genius of the Ye family, impulsive by nature. Don’t take it to heart. The next few days will likely bring more trouble like this—be careful.”

She paused, then added: “If Itachi run into trouble Itachi can’t handle, come to the Demon Suppression Army headquarters and find me—I’m stationed at the training camp.”

“By the way, here’s my phone number. Feel free to contact me directly if Itachi need anything.”

Jiang Xia took the slip of paper with the number, bid Su Muxue farewell, and walked with Wang Teng toward the black market.

On the way, Wang Teng couldn’t help but sigh: “Shanhai Pass really is full of hidden dragons and tigers—we’ve barely arrived and already ran into so much. Looks like training camp won’t be easy.”

Jiang Xia looked at the slip in his hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips: “The harder it is, the more interesting it becomes.”

“Perfect. Let me see just how capable these Shanhai Pass prodigies really are.”

The entrance to the West Market black market was hidden deep in an alley hung with tattered banners, the damp cobblestones coated with a faint layer of spiritual energy.

Occasional masked cultivators brushed past, casting brief, wary glances at Jiang Xia and Wang Teng before hurrying away.

Wang Teng peered inside—the narrow alley was lined tightly with stalls, most vendors wearing conical hats or face masks, their expressions guarded.

The cultivators coming and going were a mixed crowd: ordinary free cultivators in plain clothes, disciples in various uniforms, each radiating a subtle air of suspicion.

“This place doesn’t look ordinary—might actually find something good here.”

Wang Teng rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming, and hurried after Jiang Xia.

The two pushed through the dense crowd, the stalls on either side packed tightly together.

A burly man in a floral shirt squatted on a small stool, a black cloth spread before him displaying several ancient coins etched with strange patterns, claiming they could “withstand a single strike from a Wu Zong.”

Next to him, an old woman sold Super Strength Pills—Wang Teng leaned in to sniff, and immediately stood up straight.

“Stop wandering around—good stuff’s deeper in the black market. Let’s go further in.”

Jiang Xia pulled Wang Teng away from haggling with the old woman, his gaze sweeping past the crowded stall ahead, finally landing on a nearly empty one in the corner.

Jiang Xia’s eyes locked onto a seemingly broken jade seal at the center of the stall.

The seal was cracked all over, its dragon patterns nearly worn away, one corner chipped off, like trash dug up from a construction site.

“Boss, how much for this jade seal?” Jiang Xia crouched down, his fingertip lightly brushing its surface—a strange sense of familiarity suddenly surged within him.

The vendor was an old man in a faded shirt and a sunhat with holes, curled up on a folding chair, dozing off.

Before he could speak, a haughty voice rang out from beyond the crowd: “I’ve taken a liking to this jade seal—it’s destined for me. Don’t compete with me.”

Everyone turned to see a young man in purple combat gear walking forward, tall and straight, his brow radiating arrogant defiance, faint electric currents flickering around him.

The young man’s gaze settled on Jiang Xia’s face, his eyebrows lifting slightly: “Itachi’re Jiang Xia, the one who just made the list? Seventh on the Prodigy List—actually looks better than your photo.”

“Qin Qianjue?” Wang Teng’s eyes widened—he’d seen this face just moments ago on the Prodigy List.

A thunder-ability genius of the Qin family, tenth on the Prodigy List, said to control voltages of a million volts, ruthless in combat.

Qin Qianjue ignored Wang Teng, his eyes locked on the jade seal, his tone commanding: “Old man, I want this seal. Name your price.”

Wang Teng stepped forward immediately, rolling up his sleeves: “Who the hell are Itachi? Don’t Itachi know the rules? First come, first served?”

The dozing old man had somehow woken up. His cloudy eyes flashed with sharpness as he drew on his pipe, tapping the stem against the folding table: “Why the rush? Two kids—Itachi want this thing? Follow the rules.”

Qin Qianjue frowned: “What rules? Just name a price—if it’s reasonable, the Qin family can pay.”

“I don’t sell for money—I sell by fate,” the old man exhaled a smoke ring, pointing at himself.

“Block my three strikes. Whoever can withstand them gets the seal. If neither can, then it hasn’t chosen a master—go do whatever Itachi were doing.”

Qin Qianjue sneered: “Old man, don’t waste my time. I’ll take your three strikes—don’t regret it later.”

The old man said nothing, slowly raising his right hand. The moment he lifted it, Jiang Xia’s eyes narrowed.

The old man’s arm moved slowly, yet every motion avoided spatial nodes; the wind in his palm carried not spiritual energy, but pure physical force.

“First strike.”

Before the words finished, the old man’s palm struck Qin Qianjue’s chest.

Qin Qianjue’s pupils shrank—he erupted in blinding lightning. “Thunder Armor!”

Silver lightning formed a suit of armor around him—but the moment the old man’s palm touched the lightning, the violent bolts instantly shattered.

Qin Qianjue felt a crushing force slam into his chest, staggering back three steps, his back crashing into a fire hydrant with a loud clang.