29: The old knife cut the mask, but could not cut the debt

The night was as dark as ink, and the stars were dim.

Zhang Xuanyi sat cross-legged in front of his tattered stall, his fingertips gently caressing the slightly warm, antique copper coin.

Between the patterns on the copper coin and the slowly rotating star chart on the back of the stall, there seemed to be an invisible thread pulling them together.

Just a moment ago, golden light from the stall poured into the earth, gilding the farmlands for ten li overnight. The air was filled with a refreshing scent of rice and a faint aura of Qi.

“Dao Market distribution…” he murmured to himself, his eyes reflecting the scattered lights on the distant field paths.

Those were the awakened farmers, carrying lanterns, incredulously touching the rice stalks in their fields that seemed to be cast from gold, too excited to speak coherently.

This was the feedback of wish power.

Not a one-sided taking, but a symbiosis.

The stall absorbed their “belief,” and then returned this power in its purest form to the land that nourished them.

The system’s cold notification sound had long disappeared, but the mission text was branded into his mind—

【Establish a ‘Myriad Laws Return to Market’ connection channel, requiring the collection of ‘Wish Power Tokens’ from three locations.】

Northern Territory, Luo Hun Valley.

The direction pointed by the copper coin was also the ominous place that Old Accountant had last divined before his death.

Zhang Xuanyi slowly exhaled a turbid breath. The Qi in his body, depleted from continuously refining “Qi-Infused Rice,” had actually recovered somewhat from this “Dao Market distribution” feedback. Although still ethereal, he no longer needed to rely on consuming heavenly eye mung beans to maintain his spirit as he had in the previous days.

“My other self…” He tightened his grip on the copper coin.

This was not only a system mission but also a mystery he had to solve himself.

Who was that host who also had a system but took a completely different path?

And what kind of trap had he set in Luo Hun Valley?

Light footsteps sounded behind him.

Su Qingzhu walked over, wearing an outer garment and holding a steaming bowl of rice porridge.

This porridge was not Qi-Infused Rice, just ordinary white porridge, but the grains were plump and the aroma was inviting, clearly made from the newly golden rice.

“You still look very pale.” She handed him the bowl, her gaze sweeping over the mysterious star chart on the stall. “Are you really decided? The Northern Territory isn’t a small-time place like the Black Market. It’s a lawless zone where rogue cultivators, demonic sects, and… the forces of the Under Heaven Society are intertwined.”

Her new report, “spirit coin Blood Debt,” had completely ignited public opinion throughout the Black Market. The credibility of the spirit coin issued by the Under Heaven Society had plummeted, and its price had crashed.

Although Yan Jiuzhang hadn’t personally appeared, Su Qingzhu could feel that an invisible net was slowly opening, targeting this small stall.

“Precisely because of that, I must go.” Zhang Xuanyi took the porridge bowl, the warmth making his eyes sting slightly. “Yan Jiuzhang wants to establish his order with spirit coins, and what I need to do is let the true ‘Dao’ return to the market. Luo Hun Valley is the first stop and a necessary path.”

Not far away, Iron Lady was meditating on a bluestone, subtle wind talismans swirling around her. Her aura was more condensed than before.

The battle where she captured Old Daoist had given her new insights into the use of talismans.

Meanwhile, Xiao Man was lying nearby, propping his chin with his small hand, curiously staring at the figure kneeling in the corner of the stall—Daoist Seven, or rather, now known as “Coin Verifier” Old Daoist.

In front of Old Daoist was a small stool, piled with some spirit coins collected from various parts of the Black Market, now practically scrap metal.

His expression was focused, no longer bearing the usual sneer and ferocity, replaced by a serene devotion.

An old farmer walked forward tremblingly, handing him a spirit coin: “Master, please take a look. This is what my old wife saved her whole life…”

Old Daoist took the spirit coin, rubbed it with his fingertips for a moment, then shook his head: “This one is a counterfeit of photocopy yellow paper. The Qi runes inside are broken, and it was soaked in a special liquid, so it feels heavy, but it can’t deceive anyone.” He looked up, the scar across his cheek appearing particularly ferocious in the firelight, but his eyes were incredibly clear. “The spirit coin of the Under Heaven Society is based on plunder, so its Qi is cold and ethereal. But Daoist Zhang’s Qi-Infused Rice is based on ‘wish,’ so its Qi is warm and profound. Old man, remember this feeling from now on, feel it with your heart, not just with your eyes.”

With that, he took out a few copper coins from his Pregnant and placed them in the old farmer’s hand: “I’ll take this spirit coin. Take this money to buy some rice and flour.”

The old farmer left with profuse thanks.

Zhang Xuanyi watched this scene silently, drinking the porridge in his bowl clean.

He put that grain of “Qi-Infused Rice” into Old Daoist’s mouth, not just to let him experience the taste of “shackles,” but also to use the pure wish power contained in the rice to forcefully open his heart, which had been blinded by greed, and make him remember his original intention.

That sigh from his deceased mother was the last bit of unextinguished goodness in Old Daoist’s heart.

“He seems… like a changed man,” Su Qingzhu said softly.

“He hasn’t changed, he’s found himself again.” Zhang Xuanyi stood up. “Everyone has a scale in their heart; sometimes, it’s just covered by too much dust.” He paused, looking at Iron Lady and Xiao Man. “Get ready, everyone. At the latest, the day after tomorrow, we will depart for the Northern Territory.”

Iron Lady opened her eyes at the words and nodded, without extra words, but the wind talismans around her suddenly became sharp for an instant, as if she could not wait.

Xiao Man cheered and ran to Zhang Xuanyi, tugging at his sleeve: “Are there good things to eat in the Northern Territory? Is there anything more fun than heavenly eye mung beans?”

Zhang Xuanyi smiled and ruffled his hair.

The night grew deeper and deeper.

The bustling Black Market finally fell completely silent, and even the distant lights on the field paths extinguished one by one.

Su Qingzhu went back to pack her bags and organize intelligence, Iron Lady continued to meditate and consolidate her cultivation, and Xiao Man also fell asleep, resting his head on his small bundle.

Only Zhang Xuanyi and Old Daoist, who was still silently verifying coins in the corner, remained, guarding this small stall.

All was silent, save for the sound of the wind.

Zhang Xuanyi sat down again, his gaze once more falling upon the star chart on the tattered cloth.

He placed the copper coin left by Old Accountant in the center of the star chart. The moment the copper coin touched the cloth, the light of the entire star chart paused.

Immediately after, an indescribable feeling rose from the bottom of his heart.

It was not a fluctuation of Qi, nor a prying of spiritual power.

It was a more ancient, more primordial “sense of existence.”

It was as if this piece of tattered cloth, which had been sleeping beneath him, slowly opened its eyes at this moment.

The surrounding air seemed to solidify. The sound of the wind, the chirping of insects—all external sounds were instantly cut off.

Zhang Xuanyi could even hear the “thump-thump” of his own heart.

He felt a gaze, not from any direction, but from the stall itself.

This gaze held no emotion, no malice, yet it carried a profound sense of ancientness and majesty that seemed to pierce through eons, quietly scrutinizing him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, one by one.

This feeling… was both familiar and strange.

Familiar, because the source of this aura was of the same origin as the copper coin left by Old Accountant.

Strange, because it was hundreds of times grander and deeper than any state Old Accountant had displayed in his daily life.

This was no longer a mumbling fortune-teller, but like an ancient deity overseeing the rules of heaven and earth, a corner of it awakened from slumber.

Zhang Xuanyi’s breathing became exceptionally heavy. He instinctively clenched his fists, and all the Qi in his body began to uncontrollably go on alert.

He suddenly lowered his head, staring intently at the copper coin in the center of the stall.

Above the copper coin, the blurry divination patterns seemed to be undergoing some imperceptible, extremely slow change.

In the night, a faint sigh, as if spanning time and space, gently echoed above the stall.