Lin Shu began pacing around the house in circles, deep in thought.
"I have at most a day before I need to return to the mine—any longer and my late arrival will seem suspicious. But what should I do with that time? There's so much I haven't seen, and a lot of essential knowledge I still lack. There might even be a black market… or an auction I could attend. But even with the crazy amount of gold coins I have, I doubt I could buy a battle skill higher than low-tier Rank 1. Those are usually traded only for other battle skills or valuable materials of equal rank."
He paused, frowning.
"An auction might be good, but the items are random. There's no guarantee I'll find anything useful—or affordable. Better to focus on the black markets."
With that decision, Lin Shu left the house once more, heading toward the bustling markets of Cloudrest. He walked for a while, scanning the crowds and stalls, searching for anything suspicious. But finding the black markets wasn't easy, and he couldn't just ask someone outright—that would only invite trouble. So instead, he started visiting shady stores that dealt in poisons, forbidden materials, and other goods people would call immoral.
Eventually, he wandered into the darker side of the markets, a place almost devoid of ordinary mortals. Here, the atmosphere was tense, and people wore scarves or masks to hide their identities. Lin Shu did the same. As he moved through the alleys, he looked for signs, for clues—anything to lead him to the black markets.
He wanted to ask someone, but that would mark him as new to the area—an easy target for trickery, ambush, or worse. Anyone could give him false directions and lead him into a trap. And though he had grown stronger, he wasn't arrogant enough to assume others were weak. He saw even cultivators below his level as potential threats.
Then he spotted two individuals walking together and quietly followed them. If he couldn't find the markets alone, then he'd trail someone who might.
"I hate wandering aimlessly like this. I need a reliable source of information—an informant or an organization that deals in intelligence. I can't keep relying on luck forever."
After following several people to dead ends, Lin Shu finally gave up and decided to act. He followed a lone man into a dark, empty alley. In a flash, he exploded forward, seizing the man by the back of the neck and slamming him to the ground. As the man opened his mouth to shout, Lin Shu clamped a hand over it.
"You're going to answer a few questions. Do that, and I'll let you go."
Terrified, the man nodded. Lin Shu leaned in.
"Where do I find a black market or illegal auction?"
The man, trembling, whispered, "Down Blue Lanterns Alley… there's a black market inside Old Man Chen's store."
"Who controls that place?"
"A gang… they go by the name Mistveil Serpents. Please, I told you what you wanted! Let me go!"
But Lin Shu didn't believe him. With one hand still gripping the man's neck, he activated his art—white bone blades erupted from his arm and pierced the man's throat. Once the body fell limp, Lin Shu dragged it to a garbage pile and left.
He wasn't going to risk being followed or deceived.
Soon after, he found Blue Lanterns Alley—true to its name, the buildings were lined with soft, flickering blue lanterns. It didn't take him long to locate the shop the man had mentioned. People were going in and out of it, and Lin Shu noted that the place was heavily guarded—though the guards blended into the surroundings, their presence was unmistakable to trained eyes.
Lin Shu entered. The shop was large, filled with strange goods and curious items, but he knew this wasn't the real market. He started observing closely. There was a door behind the clerk's counter, and those who spoke to the clerk—and discreetly showed him something—were allowed through.
He watched one man display a sword, another show a pouch that glinted with the shine of gold. It became clear: entry wasn't free. You had to prove your wealth or value before they let you in. They didn't want their time wasted.
Lin Shu approached the counter. The top barely came up to his chest, but he didn't care. He was used to it by now—and besides, he wasn't the only child here. Several other cultivators his age were also inside. And with his cultivation unrestrained, no one dared underestimate him.
Lin Shu pulled out a pouch containing 500 gold coins and placed it calmly on the counter. He didn't know the exact amount required for entry, but he had no intention of exposing himself as a newcomer. From his earlier observations, he estimated that 500 was a safe number—enough to make a statement without looking suspicious.
The clerk took the pouch, weighed it in his hand briefly, then nodded and handed it back without a word. He motioned silently toward the door behind him.
Without hesitation, Lin Shu stepped through.
Beyond the door was a narrow stairway leading underground. Lin Shu descended, each step taking him deeper into the bowels of Cloudrest. At the bottom, he arrived at a modest open space—no larger than an average room. Two guards stood on either side of a reinforced door.
They spoke without waiting for him to ask.
"No fighting, no stealing, and no selling of fake items," one of them said flatly. "If you want to sell, pay for a vendor spot. If you want to buy, the entry fee is 50 gold."
Lin Shu handed over the coins without a word.
The guards stepped aside and pushed open the heavy door. "Continue down the path. You'll exit into the market tunnels."
Their tone was indifferent, as if it didn't matter whether he was a regular or completely new.
Lin Shu walked down the tunnel, silent and alert. Minutes passed. The air grew colder, and the dim glow of blue light seeped through cracks in the stone. Finally, he reached an exit—and stepped into the black market.
The sight before him was strange and mesmerizing. The entire cavern was bathed in soft, cold blue light, casting eerie shadows over the irregular stone walls. The temperature was low enough to make his breath mist in the air. Dozens of stalls lined the area, some proper, others just people seated on the ground with blankets displaying forbidden goods. Cultivators moved between them, haggling, whispering, trading.
Lin Shu wandered quietly through the crowd, scanning everything. Weapons? Not interested. His bones were his blades. Cultivation techniques? Tempting, but dangerous. Most were either stolen, illegal, or both. Buying one could mean inheriting the grudge of a powerful clan or sect. If he used such a technique openly and was recognized, he'd be hunted down.
Still, Lin Shu didn't care. He would never leave witnesses behind.
But even he understood the risks of buying techniques in a place where sect members also shopped. The wrong scroll could draw the wrong kind of attention even here, where one would expect anonymity.
He continued walking, silently absorbing the atmosphere—until something caught his eye.
Lin Shu noticed a scroll laid neatly atop a worn cloth—a mid-tier Rank 1 technique titled Burning Vein Art. It was a flame-based healing art, allowing the user to rapidly mend internal and external wounds using their own spiritual fire. Lin Shu's eyes lit up—not just from interest, but recognition.
"Heh… what luck," he thought to himself. "That's definitely a Chi Clan technique."
The Burning Vein Art was famous, used only by the inner members of the Chi Clan, known for their flame-based cultivation and brutal enforcement of their secrets. If it was here, it was stolen—without a doubt.
Lin Shu gave the seller a glance. The man looked calm, maybe too calm, but the surrounding space told another story. No one was going near him. No customers. No whispers. Just a bubble of quiet around the stall.
" he's Either brave or incredibly stupid," Lin Shu mused. "And I'm not stupid enough to buy that in front of everyone. If the Chi Clan finds out, they'll hunt down anyone involved. I need to take it off his hands—but somewhere else."
He passed by the stall, slipping a folded note from his ring and flicking it under the man's table. The man picked it up quickly and read:
"I want to buy the technique."
A few seconds later, the man packed up without a word and left. Lin Shu had already hidden himself behind a nearby stall. When the man arrived, Lin Shu stepped out, leading him into a dim side passage behind the stalls. The man didn't speak. Lin Shu did.
"Let's make this quick. What do you want for the Burning Vein Art?"
The man stroked his beard, trying to keep a straight face. "A defensive technique. Same rank."
Lin Shu chuckled coldly. "You think I'm a fool, old man? Everyone with half a brain knows that's a Chi Clan technique. If I buy it, I'm also buying the bounty that's on your head and turning it onto myself. You're lucky to even find a buyer in this cursed black market. So let's skip the games. I'm paying in gold. Only gold. Name your price."
The seller grimaced. He'd hoped the boy was just an ignorant brat with too much money. Instead, he found himself outplayed. But he was desperate. No one dared come near his stall, and it was only a matter of time before the Chi Clan learned where their scroll had gone.
"…15,000 gold coins," he muttered. "No less."
Lin Shu nodded without hesitation, pulling out a storage pouch and transferring the amount over. The man accepted it quickly, hands shaking slightly with relief.
"Pleasure doing business, kid," he muttered. "But like you said… this art is cursed. If anyone sees you using it, they'll come for your head."
He turned and left, quickly disappearing into the shadows of the tunnels.
Lin Shu didn't linger either. He didn't trust the man—he might try to reclaim the scroll, or worse, sell Lin Shu out to the Chi Clan. With swift precision, he altered the appearance of his bone mask, reshaping the lines and painting over the color in seconds. His presence disappeared into the crowd once again.
He continued through the market, hoping to find a higher-tier cultivation method… but came up short.
"Tch. No luck," he thought. "Still stuck with the low-tier one I'm using."
Despite the disappointment, the Burning Vein Art was a solid gain. Lin Shu pressed deeper into the shadows of the black market, hunting for any last traces of opportunity.