Chapter 23: Revenge

Qinglin Marketplace.

A slightly chubby youth with an unremarkable face strode into it.

This man was none other than Fang Xing!

Since breaking through into the Muscle-Bone Realm, Fang Xing discovered he could even “fine-tune” his physique—gaining or losing weight at will; he assumed that once his Muscle-Bone Realm reached profound depths, he could alter his height and bones freely.

Thus, he changed his appearance entirely and reentered this cultivator marketplace.

“Golden Spirit Fruit! Delicious Golden Spirit Fruit! Just one spirit sand!”

“Selling talismans—every kind imaginable, thirty percent cheaper than shops!”

“Artifacts! There are even artifacts here!”

The marketplace was as bustling as ever.

Fang Xing even saw a crowd gathered around a stall, staring at the vendor—a man radiating murderous aura, clearly dangerous.

Or rather, gazing intently at a flying sword artifact before him, their faces alight with eagerness.

“This is… an artifact?”

Fang Xing glanced over and saw a black iron sword, only the length of a palm, its surface marred by chips and scars.

“Secondhand low-grade artifact—‘Black Feather Sword’… only twenty spirit stones!”

The vendor crossed his arms, a flicker of impatience crossing his face: “If you’re poor, don’t bother!”

Likely due to his deep cultivation, those nearby awkwardly stepped back, none daring to challenge him.

“Ah, what a pity—it’s not a ‘Blood-Refined Artifact’?”

A Preternatural Martial Artist sighed, staring at the black flying sword.

Artifacts demand far higher control than talismans!

Even Preternatural Martial Artists cannot wield low-grade artifacts.

Unless… it’s a specially crafted ‘Blood-Refined Artifact,’ which allows martial artists to activate it with their own true qi or even blood.

“Blood-Refined Artifacts may not be powerful—only comparable to ordinary low-grade artifacts—but they’re difficult to make and require rare materials… at least a hundred low-grade spirit stones, so don’t even dream of it.”

A nearby cultivator snorted in amusement.

Fang Xing watched the spectacle for a while, then walked off on his own.

After all, he couldn’t afford it…

Qingdan Shop.

The serving girl from last time was gone; this time, a woman in her early twenties had replaced her.

Dressed in a peach-red Daoist robe, cut elegantly, radiating a bright charm, she smiled before speaking: “Guest, how may I assist you?”

“Selling herbs!”

Fang Xing spoke tersely, pulling out a white fruit.

The fruit was the size of an infant’s fist, its surface patterned with snake-like veins, emitting a faint fishy odor.

“This is… Snake Orchid Fruit? This spirit herb is rare—I can offer you two spirit stones for it.”

The Daoist woman’s eyes lit up: “How many do you have, guest?”

“Only two—both barely won at the cost of my life…”

Fang Xing pulled out a second Snake Orchid Fruit, sighing.

In truth, he had a whole box of them!

The harvesting site was dangerous—the lair of a giant serpent in the river, which had already swallowed several simulated birds!

Judging from all signs, this serpent was stronger than a wild boar beast, clearly more dangerous; the herbs near its nest were likely rarer and more valuable.

This test confirmed it!

With four low-grade spirit stones in hand, Fang Xing first bought a bottle of ‘Blood-Qi Pills,’ then, upon leaving Qingdan Shop, spotted the sign of Xiao Fu Hall and unconsciously walked in: “Give me a Spirit-Testing Talisman!”

“Perhaps… the talismans at Xiao Fu Hall are flawed.”

“Anecdotes don’t prove anything—I must test more than once to be sure!”

After leaving Xiao Fu Hall, Fang Xing wandered nearby, preparing to buy another ‘Spirit-Testing Talisman’ from a stall!

If all three results matched, he’d have to accept it.

“Guest, would you like spirit rice?”

As Fang Xing searched for a talisman stall, a timid voice suddenly interjected.

He turned and saw a spirit rice stall.

A girl in red clothing gazed at him with nervous hope.

“Is this low-grade spirit rice?”

Fang Xing stepped forward, scooping up a handful, asking casually.

The spirit rice was much larger than ordinary white rice, carrying a lotus leaf fragrance that alone made one’s mouth water.

“Yes! Just one spirit sand per jin!”

The girl quickly offered a pleasing smile: “Cultivators eat this daily! Supposedly, ordinary people who consume too much may give birth to offspring with spiritual roots.”

“Oh? If I eat a lot, can I grow a spiritual root myself?” Fang Xing became interested.

“Impossible! There’s never been a case of someone gaining a spiritual root after birth!” The girl shook her head vigorously, as if stating common knowledge.

Fang Xing felt a pang of gloom: “Then I won’t buy it—I’m not a cultivator, so it’s useless to me!”

“Who says it’s useless? Powerful martial artists eat spirit rice too… it enhances blood and qi, and it’s completely natural—zero medicinal toxins!” the girl hurriedly replied.

“Medicinal toxins?”

Fang Xing halted.

“Yes—frequent use of pills causes medicinal toxins. If they accumulate, they damage the body, even stunt potential, trapping cultivators at bottlenecks with no progress… so cultivators eat spirit rice daily and only take pills during critical breakthroughs.”

The girl added: “My grandfather told me.”

Fang Xing grew curious; sensing the girl’s naivety, he chatted with her a bit longer.

He learned that while pills did carry medicinal toxins, for cultivators, it wasn’t a major issue.

After all, many hermits were already deadlocked before reaching major realms.

Moreover, as one’s cultivation advanced—or especially during major breakthroughs—a process of tendon-strengthening and marrow-washing naturally expelled some bodily toxins.

Besides, the human body has self-cleansing functions; as long as toxin accumulation doesn’t exceed a threshold, it’s no big deal.

“Thank you, young miss—I’ll buy… ten jin of spirit rice. By the way, what’s your name?”

By the end, Fang Xing felt slightly guilty about getting so much for so little, and pulled out spirit stones himself.

“I’m Ding Hongxiu. My Lotus-Fragrant Spirit Rice is the best among low-grade spirit rice!” Ding Hongxiu proudly puffed out her small chest.

“Heh, I’ll remember.”

Fang Xing slung the bag of rice over his shoulder, waved goodbye, and vanished into the crowd.

Moments later.

“Hmm?”

After comparing prices and finally securing a cheaper ‘Spirit-Testing Talisman,’ Fang Xing spotted a herb stall—and his eyes sharpened.

The vendor there was unmistakably the pipe-smoking old man who had trailed him before!

But he clearly hadn’t recognized Fang Xing in his disguise.

‘Perfect—I’ve broken through. Time to settle scores.’

Fang Xing considered, turned into an alley, and swept his hand across his face.

His flesh rippled, and his features shifted into a simple, earnest look—the same disguise he’d used before.

‘No need to approach the old man directly—just let him see me by accident…’

Fang Xing swiftly devised a plan: ‘In this world, martial artists max out at Preternatural. This old man isn’t a cultivator—maximum Preternatural. He might have hidden tricks; I’ll need to prepare.’

…

Several hours later.

Fang Xing strolled out of Qinglin Marketplace and plunged into the wild wasteland.

Behind him, the pipe-smoking old man narrowed his eyes and followed closely.

‘Hmm? So he followed after all?’

Fang Xing maintained a steady pace, keeping distance, running over ten miles.

He opened his wristwatch and immediately saw the aerial surveillance feed from the simulated bird drone.

‘And… no one else nearby—no backup.’

‘From his movement and speed, confirmed—he’s just a martial artist, as he claimed… no lie.’

‘Then…’

Fang Xing pressed his chest—a layer of silver-white nanofiber armor instantly enveloped him; the electric baton materialized in his right hand.

‘Huh? Where’d he go? Did the fat lamb slip away again?’

The old man burst into a dense forest, finding no trace of Fang Xing—his face twisted with frustration.

As a low-tier figure in Qinglin Marketplace, his targets for murder and theft were limited.

To find a suitable fat lamb was rare—and now he’d lost him twice? It was truly…

At that moment, his ear twitched—he suddenly looked up.

A small bird, like a yellow finch, perched on a tree branch, staring at him without blinking.

‘Am I growing old? Even a common bird feels threatening?’

The old man sighed wistfully.

In his youth, he had been undefeated in the local martial world, almost a supreme martial sovereign.

If only he hadn’t been bewitched by folly and followed some Immortal Master seeking the Dao of cultivation among mortals, he wouldn’t have been relocated to this godforsaken place, and his Immortal Master wouldn’t have died—leaving him merely clinging to life.

Pfft!

As the old man lost focus, the yellow finch suddenly flapped its wings and swooped down.

Clutched in its talons was a talisman, its vermilion cinnabar ink glaringly bright, radiating a dangerous aura.

“No—that’s… a Fireball Talisman?!”

Fireball Talisman!

One of the rare talismans mortals could activate by simply tearing it.

But without a cultivator’s Qi to guide and aim it, it often backfired, so its market price was low—just one low-grade Spirit Stone!

The next instant!

Boom!

A burst of flame erupted, engulfing the finch—and the old man along with it.

Not far away, Fang Xing watched this scene, a faint smile tugging at his lips: “Non-contact warfare, huh…”

Just a drone paired with a weapon—and you instantly upgrade into a terrifying life-reaping machine!

Of course, the Blue Star Federation still enforced strict weapon controls.

But in this other world? Different story.

Here, with Spirit Stones, you can buy anything—even weapons that fear they’re not powerful enough!

Fang Xing sold Snake Orchid Fruit and earned four low-grade Spirit Stones: one for Blood-Revitalizing Pill, one for Spirit-Detection Talisman, one for Lotus-Scented Spirit Rice, and the last one bought the ‘Fireball Talisman’!

Of course, he already had two Spirit-Detection Talismans, but the vendor at the stall, after he haggled, accepted only seven Spirit Sands—his previous savings easily covered it.

“Drone plus Fireball Talisman? A flying bomb—with no risk of self-harm… Huh?”

Fang Xing glanced again, and his eyes suddenly sharpened.

On the screen, after the flames cleared, the disheveled figure of the old man emerged.

His hair and beard were charred black, yet a faint golden light enveloped his body.

The golden light was so weak that after another second, it vanished entirely…

“First-rank low-grade Defense Talisman—Golden Light Talisman? Weaker than the Golden Bell Talisman. Is this your last resort?”

Fang Xing remotely summoned more drones; several small birds, each clutching a talisman, flew toward the old man.

Seeing this, the old man’s soul nearly fled his body—he turned and ran!

“So his Defense Talisman… only had one left…”

Fang Xing made his judgment, and in a flash, he dashed into the dense forest.

The drones that appeared later were real—but the talismans were fake, just cheap yellow paper and red ink, yet the old man dared not inspect them closely.

Getting him to reveal so much was already enough.

“Damn it—I’m going down this time!”

The old man retreated swiftly, his face twisted in fury.

Then he saw a silver-white figure appear ahead, a black rod pointing toward him.

“Hah!”

He raised his long-stemmed pipe to block the black rod’s strike.

Sssss!

The next instant, a beam of silver-white electricity shot from the tip of the black rod, streaking toward his face!

“Ahh! Let’s die together!”

The old man’s face wore a calm acceptance of death as he triggered the mechanism on his pipe; a poison needle shot out like a viper’s fang—deadly and treacherous!

It was a hidden weapon he’d accidentally acquired in the mortal martial world: the ‘Heaven-Severing Needle,’ ranked number one on the Martial Assassination Weapons List!

Ding!

A black poison needle struck his nanosuit and fell to the ground; the surrounding grass and plants withered instantly.

Then the old man’s charred corpse flew backward and crashed to the earth…