23: Chapter 23 Deep Sea Sunken Silver

It wasn't much, but in a place like the black market, he should be able to pick up a few small things.

Everything was prepared.

Chen Mo blew out the oil lamp.

Instead of using the main gate, he skillfully vaulted over the courtyard wall, landing without a sound.

This was a benefit of the Turtle Breathing Technique—long, steady breaths and light footsteps.

The alley was quiet, with only the occasional bark of a dog.

Chen Mo hugged the base of the wall, moving swiftly through the shadows like a black cat.

The black market was located in a district of abandoned temples in the southern part of the city.

It was originally a local earth god temple from the previous dynasty. After its incense offerings ceased, it fell into ruin and gradually evolved into a place for underground transactions.

The closer he got to the southern city, the colder and gloomier the surrounding air seemed to become.

Figures began to appear on the road, all hurrying along.

Some wore bamboo hats, others veils, and some simply had burlap sacks over their heads with only two holes cut out for their eyes.

Everyone maintained an absolute safe distance from each other, not looking at anyone, not speaking to anyone.

A wordless understanding and a sense of oppression flowed through the air.

Chen Mo lowered his posture and blended into the stream of people.

A dim, yellowish light appeared up ahead.

It was a lantern hanging under a dilapidated memorial archway, its paper shade yellowed, with a crookedly written character for 'ghost' on it.

He had arrived.

Two burly men stood at the entrance, knives tucked at their waists, their gazes fierce as they scrutinized everyone entering.

Chen Mo walked up, took out ten copper coins from his robe, and tossed them into a bamboo basket nearby.

*Clink.*

The sound of the coins striking was crisp and pleasant.

The big men didn't even glance at him, just waved a hand, signaling for him to pass.

Chen Mo took a deep breath and stepped into this lawless place shrouded in night.

As soon as he entered, a wave of noise hit him.

But this noise was suppressed.

There were no loud hawkers, only hushed bargaining.

The stalls were rudimentary, mostly just a piece of tattered cloth spread on the ground, displaying a variety of items.

There were weapons stained with blood, antiques of dubious authenticity, medicinal herbs emitting strange odors, and even people trembling in cages.

Chen Mo wasn't in a hurry to look at the goods.

First, he circled the perimeter, observing the layout and identifying several possible escape routes.

It was a habit.

No matter the situation, it was always wise to plan an exit first.

Only after confirming his safety did he slow his pace and begin lingering before the various stalls.

His goal was clear: mysterious iron, or other high-density metals that could increase a weapon's weight.

"Boss, how much for this piece of iron?"

Stopping before a stall piled with Ore, Chen Mo pointed at a fist-sized, pitch-black rock and asked.

The stall owner was a withered old man wrapped in a tattered sheepskin coat, his eyelids drooping. "That's meteoric iron. One hundred taels."

"One hundred taels?" Chen Mo almost laughed out loud. "Is your meteoric iron made of gold? It looks like ordinary magnetite to me."

"Take it or leave it," the old man rolled his eyes and ignored him.

Chen Mo wasn't angry either. He shook his head and continued forward.

The black market was full of swindlers; exorbitant prices were the norm.

He browsed a few more stalls. The so-called 'divine iron' and 'treasure Ore' he saw were mostly for show, or their prices were outrageously high.

Just as he was feeling somewhat disappointed and preparing to check the medicinal herb section for any plants useful for Body Tempering, a faint argument caught his attention.

"...This is genuine deep sea sinking silver! You offer five taels? Are you trying to fool a beggar?"

"For a piece this small, the size of a fingernail, five taels is plenty! Look at its condition, see how oxidized it is."

deep sea sinking silver?

Chen Mo's heart stirred.

He hadn't heard this name from Uncle Zhang, but it sounded like something valuable.

He followed the sound.

In a corner, a figure completely shrouded in a black robe was arguing with a stall owner.

The robed figure held a small, silver-gray metal piece that shimmered with a peculiar matte luster under the faint lantern light.

Chen Mo quietly moved closer.

He didn't interrupt directly. Instead, he stood to the side, pretending to look at other items on the stall.

The stall owner was a one-eyed, burly man with a fierce face, looking impatient. "Alright, alright, stop blocking my business. Eighty taels. Take it or leave it. If you won't buy, scram."

The robed figure seemed desperate. He tightened his grip on the metal piece, hesitated for a long moment, then gritted his teeth and said, "Forty taels! This is my..."

"Eighty taels," the fat man interrupted. "Not a single copper less."

The robed figure trembled slightly, seemingly engaged in an intense internal struggle.

Just then, Chen Mo suddenly spoke.

"Can I take a look at that?"

His voice was deliberately lowered, sounding hoarse and deep.

Both the fat man and the robed figure turned to look at him.

The fat man frowned. "Who are you? Don't you know the rules? We're negotiating."

"Didn't your negotiation fail?" Chen Mo said calmly. "Since it failed, then it goes to the highest bidder."

As soon as the item landed in his hand, Chen Mo's arm jerked downward.

So heavy!

This tiny piece, no larger than a fingernail, was actually two or three times heavier than gold of the same volume!

Moreover, its touch was icy and piercing, as if holding a ten-thousand-year-old piece of ice.

Was this deep sea sinking silver?

Chen Mo didn't understand what this material was, but his intuition told him it was absolutely top-tier material for increasing a weapon's weight.

If such a small piece was this heavy, then if it were mixed into a blade...

It was a good thing.

But the price was also a 'good' price.

"Eighty taels. Not a single copper less," the fat man still insisted.

Chen Mo felt inside his robe.

The warm fifty-tael silver note now felt pitifully thin. This was his entire fortune, combined with the extra money he'd made from selling the corpse and the meager salary he'd saved by living frugally.

"Fifty taels," Chen Mo persisted, unwilling to give up. "Cash. I'll pay immediately."

The boss sneered. "What's a pauper like you doing in the black market? Fifty taels? You could buy a cartload of scrap iron next door. Get lost, stop blocking my view."

Chen Mo gritted his teeth.

This feeling of powerlessness was terrible.

It was like in his past life, finally saving enough for a graphics card, only for a mining boom to hit and the price to double.

"Boss, I'm serious about buying. This thing is just gathering dust here with you. Look at its condition, the oxide layer is so thick..." Chen Mo tried to reason, using the half-baked terminology he'd just learned from Uncle Zhang to bluff.

"Don't give me that useless talk," One-Eyed Dragon waved impatiently, as if shooing a fly. "Eighty taels. Can't you understand plain speech? If you don't have the money, get lost. Don't stand here being an eyesore."

Chen Mo's face twitched.

He thought about snatching it by force.

But he immediately quashed the thought. The black market had its own rules. The two guards at the entrance weren't just for show. And this One-Eyed Dragon dared to set up a stall here; his sleeves were bulging, clearly indicating he was a martial artist.

It wasn't worth risking his life for a piece of metal.

"Sixty taels. I also have a good knife here, made by Uncle Zhang..." Chen Mo half-drew the boning knife from behind his waist.