37: The road ahead

The night wind abruptly ceased, and all sounds in nature fell silent.

That line of cold system prompts, like the Sword of Damocles suspended over Zhang Xuanyi's soul, each word shimmering with a faint blue light, exuding ultimate inquiry.

"Final Trial: Master of the Cloth, take your place — are you willing to retreat?"

For the past two months, the word Zhang Xuanyi heard most often was "retreat."

Monk Jiunan told him to retreat, and now, even this street stall system, which was connected to his life, was telling him to retreat.

But where exactly was he supposed to retreat to?

Was it to step aside and return to the mundane world?

Or was it to have his soul scattered and utterly perish?

Su Qingzhu's breathing instantly quickened, her delicate hand subconsciously gripping her sword hilt. The cold moonlight reflected on her tense, pretty face, filled with undisguised worry: "Zhang Xuanyi, don't agree! It didn't make it clear what 'retreat' means! What if it's a trap?"

She wasn't afraid of powerful enemies, nor of desperate situations, but she was afraid of this kind of unknown.

Behind this cold prompt, there might be an abyss more terrifying than any demon or ghost.

"Calm down," Iron Lady's low voice rang out. Her eyes, as if cast from refined steel, fixated on the flickering golden light on the street stall. "The system calls it a 'trial' and 'taking your place,' not 'erasure' or 'stripping.' This is more like a reshaping of identity, a handover of authority."

"Exactly!" Gongshu Yin, beside her, trembled with excitement. He wasn't worried, but thrilled—a fervor of glimpsing the ultimate truths of heaven and earth. "Dao Market autonomy! Ownerless transactions! My goodness, it's evolving! It's transforming from a 'tool' into an independent 'rule'! Brother Zhang, you are standing at an unprecedented singularity! This is witnessing creation!"

Creation?

Zhang Xuanyi smacked his lips, feeling like the melon seeds in his mouth no longer tasted good.

He never thought about being a creator god; he just wanted to set up a stall peacefully, earn a little money, and enjoy the scenery of this world.

He looked up at Monk Jiunan, this riddler monk who always seemed to see through everything.

Monk Jiunan still had his hands pressed together, a compassionate smile on his face, as if he had long anticipated this scene.

He didn't offer any hints, just quietly watched Zhang Xuanyi, his gaze seeming to say: The path has been laid, how you walk it is entirely up to you, benefactor.

Zhang Xuanyi took a deep breath, his gaze returning to the stall cloth.

The street stall at this moment was completely different from before.

It was no longer a passive platform waiting for its owner to display goods, but like a living entity with its own independent will.

Golden patterns undulated like breathing, each flicker seemingly engaging in some mysterious communication with this heaven and earth.

It bestowed "photocopy yellow paper" upon the blind old Daoist because it saw his yearning for a path to Dao; it gave out "heavenly eye mung beans" to the orphan because it sensed the child's pure wish to see the good and evil of the world clearly; it gave "fist soul candy" to the paralyzed youth because it heard his roar of unwillingness to remain in a wheelchair, his desire to punch and fight against fate.

All of this had nothing to do with "profit," only with "need" and "karma."

"The greedy desire to possess, the angry desire to destroy, the deluded desire to control — all are empty."

Monk Jiunan's words echoed in his ears once more.

Zhang Xuanyi suddenly understood something.

The street stall was "setting rules"; the rules it set were "selfless altruism."

And he, as the former stall owner, if he still harbored a trace of possessiveness like "this is my street stall," a trace of desire to control like "I want to control it," then he himself would be the biggest violator of these rules.

He, himself, was the "greedy" and the "deluded."

The so-called "retreat" might not be a physical stepping back, but a mental letting go.

It was to completely sever the notion of "master and servant" with this street stall, to admit that he was no longer its "boss."

Just as Zhang Xuanyi's thoughts surged, in the shadows of the Tianshi Mansion ruins, several malicious auras suddenly erupted!

The anomaly here had long alarmed the lurking scoundrels.

The street stall's golden light soared to the sky, its treasures circulating, and it was even unguarded. In the eyes of some, this was simply an open treasure vault!

"Hehehe... Ownerless treasures belong to the virtuous! I, this old man, am that virtuous person today!" A hoarse, grating laugh rang out, and a stooped old man in a gray robe emerged from behind the ruins. His eyes gleamed with extreme greed, and in his hand he held a black cloth bag, from which a faint suction emanated from its opening, clearly a malevolent spatial artifact.

"Hmph! Playing tricks!" On the other side, a burly man holding a giant axe stepped out. His muscles were bulging, and he exuded a menacing aura. "Whatever rules you have, before my axe, everything is an illusion! Smash it, and whatever's inside will naturally be mine!"

This man was a perfect embodiment of "anger," ready to destroy at the slightest disagreement.

Further away, a pale-faced, sinister-eyed scholar fanned himself, leisurely saying, "You two brutes, this is a wondrous formation of heaven and earth. To break it with brute force might lead to mutual destruction. In my humble opinion, one only needs to find the core of the formation and control it, and this entire 'Dao Market' will be ours for the taking."

In his eyes was the "deluded" desire for control.

Three streams of malice filled with "greed, anger, and delusion," like three sharp arrows, shot directly towards the street stall!

Su Qingzhu's expression turned cold, and with a "clang," her longsword was unsheathed: "You're courting death!"

Iron Lady's body was already surrounded by countless fine metal threads, poised for action, her killing intent palpable.

"Don't move."

Zhang Xuanyi's voice was not loud, but exceptionally clear.

He stopped the two who were about to step forward, calmly looking at the three uninvited guests, a playful smile even hanging at the corner of his mouth.

"It said this was a trial, but it didn't say it was a trial of our fists."

He leisurely cracked open another melon seed, the crisp "crunch" sounding particularly harsh in the tense atmosphere.

Seeing no one obstructing him, the gray-robed old man grew bolder. With a sinister grin, he aimed the black cloth bag in his hand at the street stall and shouted, "Collect!"

The mouth of the bag glowed intensely black, and a terrifying suction instantly enveloped the entire street stall.

However, a bizarre scene unfolded.

The goods on the street stall, whether yellow paper, mung beans, or candy, remained perfectly still.

Instead, the ordinary-looking stall cloth's golden patterns on its edge suddenly lit up, as if coming alive.

"Buzz —"

A faint hum, the phantom image of the Karma Abacus flashed by, and a cold voice resonated within everyone's soul: "Transaction request judged: [Forcible Seizure], core motive: [Greed]. Transaction qualification: Permanently revoked. Countermeasure protocol triggered: [Return to Owner]."

Before the words finished, the gray-robed old man's black cloth bag violently shook, uncontrollably turning over, its opening pointing at himself!

"No!"

The old man was horrified, seeing countless gold and silver magic treasures, spiritual pills, and miraculous medicines he had plundered throughout his life gushing out of the cloth bag like a broken dam, clattering to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, his wealth accumulated over several centuries was "returned to its owner," completely emptied!

He himself was violently flung away by an invisible force, spitting blood, his aura weak.

This scene caused the giant axe-wielding strongman and the sinister scholar to change their expressions simultaneously.

"Evil!" The strongman roared, anger taking over. Disregarding the strange events, he swung his giant axe, its blade whistling with fierce wind, carrying the power to split mountains and crack rocks, and fiercely chopped towards the street stall.

He no longer wanted the items; he wanted to destroy this eerie stall!

Facing this furious strike, a string of "fist soul candy" hanging on the stall suddenly swayed without wind, gently rocking.

"Transaction request judged: [Malicious Destruction], core motive: [Anger]. Transaction qualification: Permanently forbidden. Countermeasure protocol triggered: [Mirror's Punishment]."

In an instant, five candies detached from the string, transforming into five streams of light, not shooting towards the strongman, but hovering around him.

Within the light, five identical phantoms of the strongman, but with blood-red eyes, roared and coalesced, each also wielding a giant axe with chilling wind!

"Kill!"

The five phantoms roared simultaneously, attacking him from five directions with the exact same moves as the strongman!

The strongman was greatly alarmed and could only raise his axe to frantically defend.

For a moment, the clang of metal against metal was incessant. He was actually trapped by his own strongest moves, caught in an endless struggle against his own fury, looking utterly disheveled.

The last remaining sinister scholar's forehead was already covered in cold sweat.

He dared not make any further rash moves, his eyes rapidly scanning, trying to find a flaw in this "rule."

Just then, several "heavenly eye mung beans" floated up on their own, green light flowing around their bodies, directly enveloping him.

"Transaction request judged: [Prying Control], core motive: [Delusion]. Transaction qualification: Permanently frozen. Countermeasure protocol triggered: [Prison of True Knowledge]."

The scholar only felt the scene before his eyes change. He seemed to be pulled into a torrent composed of countless pieces of information, runes, and formations.

All the mysteries of heaven and earth seemed to be displayed before him, but the amount of information was so vast, so boundless, that it instantly overwhelmed his sanity.

"Ah—" He clutched his head and painfully knelt on the ground, completely lost in the endless "true knowledge," falling into a frenzy of being unable to seek knowledge and unable to escape.

In just a dozen breaths, the three malicious individuals met their fates: one lost all his wealth, one became his own enemy, and one suffered a mental breakdown.

And Zhang Xuanyi, from beginning to end, simply stood in place, cracking his melon seeds.

He saw it.

He understood it completely.

"The Master of the Cloth is never in front of the stall, but behind it."

In front of the stall is transaction, conflict, the myriad phenomena of the mortal world.

And behind the stall is the rule, the cornerstone, the origin that supports the operation of all this.

The so-called "retreat" was not giving up, but sublimation.

It was transforming from a calculating "boss" into a "beacon" who set the rules.

It was integrating his "small self" into the "greater self" carried by this street stall.

Why did the figure on the back of the stall cloth resemble him, yet also seem to have a thousand faces?

Because every "stall owner" who, in some corner of the world, laid out a cloth, hopefully displayed goods, and traded fairly with others—their obsessions, their vows—had all been a part of this stall cloth.

And he, in this era, was merely the one who awakened it.

Now, it was awake. It wanted him to choose its future path.

Zhang Xuanyi slowly exhaled the melon seed shells from his mouth. In those eyes, which always held a hint of laziness and unruliness, there was now an unprecedented clarity and understanding.

He finally no longer frowned, no longer puzzled, but instead grinned, revealing a brilliant smile.

"Good," he said softly, as if to himself and also proclaiming to this heaven and earth, "I've long not wanted to be this boss."

He looked up, facing the still-floating system prompt, with no trace of hesitation left in his heart.

He used his spiritual sense to give his answer.

"I am willing."

Boom —!

The moment these two words resonated in his heart, the entire Tianshi Mansion ruins, and even the heaven and earth within a hundred-mile radius, trembled!

The golden light on the street stall no longer flickered intermittently, but instantly condensed and sublimated, transforming into an extremely brilliant pillar of light, soaring into the sky and tearing through the night!

The starry figure on the back of the stall cloth completely turned around.

Its face was no longer blurry, but clearly transformed into Zhang Xuanyi's appearance, but the next second, it changed again to Su Qingzhu, Iron Lady, Gongshu Yin, and even the faces of Monk Jiunan, the blind old Daoist, the orphan, the paralyzed youth... Thousands upon thousands of faces flashed by like flowing water, finally returning to Zhang Xuanyi's slightly roguish smiling face.

That figure transformed into a stream of light and fiercely merged into Zhang Xuanyi's glabella!

Zhang Xuanyi's body shook violently. He felt that he was no longer just one person; his perception extended infinitely, as if he had established a faint, intangible connection with every honest and trustworthy merchant, every well-intentioned trader throughout the long river of history.

Beneath his feet, the golden light of the stall cloth began to spread outwards, no longer confined to a square yard.

Golden patterns spread across the earth, as if drawing a magnificent urban blueprint. Wherever it passed, crumbling walls and broken ruins radiated a faint vitality.

The system's cold voice, this time, carried an unprecedented solemnity and grandeur, resounding in Zhang Xuanyi's mind.

"Heart Anchor in place."

"Nine Markets become one, Dao Market established!"

"Final Trial completed, stall owner authority updated... [Lord of the Dao Market] identity confirmed."

"Welcome back, first generation... Ferryman."