63: This fire, I will keep it going myself

In the ruins of the cauldron chamber, the deathly silence was pierced by Su Qingzhu's trembling voice.

"The inscription at the bottom of the cauldron says 'The spark never dies, a cycle every twelve years'—this means that every twelve years, a new successor must awaken the will of the Dao Market. They must use themselves as a vessel to carry the Law of exchange for this world, otherwise, the Mount Longhu leyline will be completely severed, and the Spiritual Qi will wither!"

Her voice tightened with fear, her gaze pinned firmly on Zhang Xuanyi as if she were trying to see a negative answer on his face.

"Based on the timeline, Li Zhiyai of Longhu Mountain Tianshi Mansion should have been the awakened one for this term three years ago. But he... he fled, completely disappearing from the world. So, this flickering spark, did you use your own life to kindle it for him?"

The wind blew, and the tattered cloth hanging in mid-air flapped loudly. That bean-sized golden flame looked as if it could be extinguished at any moment.

Facing Su Qingzhu's questioning, Zhang Xuanyi simply extended two fingers, rubbing the coarse fabric and feeling the ancient and weathered aura upon it.

He suddenly chuckled softly, a laugh that seemed exceptionally nonchalant in the dim ruins.

"Don't make it sound so grand; I never wanted to be some savior." He lazily withdrew his hand. "My initial thought was very simple: I just wanted to sell a few more talismans, earn some spirit coins, and go down the mountain to buy the latest flavor of melon seeds."

Before his words could finish, the relaxed smile on his face suddenly froze.

A searing sting burst from his chest, as if a branding iron had been ruthlessly pressed against his heart!

He groaned, instinctively clutching his chest. Even through his Daoist robe, he could feel that startling heat.

Twelve originally dim golden patterns now seemed to have been injected with lava, lighting up from the inside out and emitting a blinding golden light.

This light penetrated his clothing, creating a strong resonance with the weak golden flame on the tattered cloth in mid-air!

Buzz—!

A low hum echoed through the ruins. The tattered cloth shook violently, and the golden flame surged by an inch, as if a hungry beast had caught the scent of blood.

Thud.

A dull sound interrupted this eerie resonance.

Cui Wujiu knelt on one knee, solemnly placing the broken blade that had accompanied him through a blood-soaked path onto the stone in front of him.

His movements were steady and resolute, as if he were performing some sacred ritual.

"I am willing to hand over the Golden Talisman Envoy Seal; I only ask to remain here." His voice was hoarse but resonant.

Zhang Xuanyi endured the sharp pain in his chest, raised an eyebrow, and scrutinized this man who exuded an aura of blood and fire. "Aren't you afraid I'll turn around and sell you to the Under Heaven Society? The price they'd pay should be enough for me to buy melon seeds for a lifetime."

Cui Wujiu let out a cold snort, his laughter filled with disdain and contempt. "Under Heaven Society? At the very least, they aren't shameless enough to use newborn infants to feed poisonous talismans."

He suddenly raised his hand and, with a rip, tore open the front of his tunic.

A shocking sight was exposed to the air.

At the position of his heart, there was no flesh, but a writhing darkness.

A black vortex composed of countless eerie runes was slowly rotating and contracting like a living thing, as if it were a beating heart.

This was the "Reverse Three Caverns Talisman," a forbidden technique that could devour all of a host's vitality and cultivation.

"It's about to wake up." Cold sweat seeped from Cui Wujiu's forehead as he gritted his teeth. "I can't hold on much longer. If I completely lose control and become a monster that knows only slaughter..." He looked up, his blood-red eyes carrying a hint of entreaty. "You, kill me with your own hands."

Su Qingzhu gasped, instinctively taking half a step back and frowning. "This thing... can you control it?"

"No." Cui Wujiu grinned, revealing a row of stark white teeth, his smile tragic and crazed. "But I know where it hurts most when my own blade stabs into my heart."

Just as the atmosphere reached its peak of solemnity, the floating tattered cloth underwent another transformation.

It gave a sudden jolt, and the weak golden flame projected a clear scene before the three of them, like a projector:

Outside the mountain gate of Mount Longhu, a dark-skinned old farmer with hands full of callouses was carefully pulling three mud-stained copper coins from his breast and handing them to a stall owner whose face could not be seen.

What he received in exchange was a crudely printed photocopy yellow paper talisman.

The old farmer clutched the yellow paper tightly in his palm as if it were a precious treasure, mumbling indistinctly in a local dialect, "Protect... protect my child, keep them safe and sound out there..."

The image ended there.

But at the moment that old farmer's most simple and pure wish merged into the yellow paper, the golden flame in the ruins jumped upward without warning with a 'whoosh'!

Although the light was still weak, it was clearly more solid than before, no longer just a nebulous phantom.

Zhang Xuanyi was completely stunned.

He was no fool; the meaning of this scene was more than obvious.

His chest was still burning, but his mind was clearer than ever before.

"It... it relies on transactions to sustain its life?" he murmured to himself, as if asking others, yet also asking himself.

"I understand!" Su Qingzhu suddenly realized, her face filled with shock and disbelief. She looked at Zhang Xuanyi, her eyes complex to the extreme. "It wasn't some System relying on you to level up by setting up a stall at all! It's this spark called the 'Dao Market'—it survives by relying on the mortal world's mundane energy! Every transaction you make, every time someone has an expectation for your talisman, you are extending its life!"

She pointed excitedly at the golden flame. "Zhang Xuanyi, you've never been selling photocopied yellow paper; what you're selling is—"

The price of hope!

These words were like a thunderclap, exploding in Zhang Xuanyi's mind!

He understood everything in an instant.

Why he had to set up a stall, why transactions could gain "Karma," and why this dilapidated Dao Market would choose him, who had nothing.

Because what it needed was not powerful cultivation or a shocking background, but the most primitive, most widespread thing that could ignite the fire of hope in the human world—exchange.

He took a deep breath, and the burning pain in his chest seemed to lessen significantly.

He no longer hesitated and strode to the center of the ruins. He sat cross-legged, grabbed the slowly falling tattered cloth, and spread it flat across his knees.

He looked around, his gaze sweeping over the suspicious Su Qingzhu and the resolutely kneeling Cui Wujiu, finally landing on the ancient piece of fabric.

He spoke loudly, his voice not grand but echoing clearly throughout the ruins, as if announcing to this world:

"I, Zhang Xuanyi, a stall-keeping Daoist of Mount Longhu, today, restart this stall—"

He paused, his tone shifting, carrying an unquestionable dominance.

"I do not accept spirit coins, I do not accept gold or silver, I only accept 'Wishes'!"

He extended a finger, its tip carrying a faint golden light, and slowly traced it across the coarse surface of the cloth, shouting in a low voice:

"Those who wish for their family's safety, pay one tear of longing!"

"Those who wish to break through a cultivation Bottleneck, leave one wisp of unyielding will!"

"Those who wish to do good in the world, grant one promise of no regrets!"

The moment his words fell, a miracle happened!

On that lifeless, charred-edged tattered cloth, the places his fingertip had traced actually began to seep with a hint of green that was more vibrant than emerald!

That green was faint, yet filled with infinite vitality, like the first sprout of spring blooming upon a ten-thousand-year-old withered tree!

"You... you turned the Dao Market... into a wishing well?!" Cui Wujiu's eyes widened, his face full of disbelief.

This was completely beyond his understanding—turning the most ancient Law of exchange in the world into such a... whimsical thing!

The hint of green did not stop; it began to spread at a visible speed, following the texture of the fabric from the center to the edges.

The tattered cloth seemed to be injected with life, suddenly curling like a living thing. Its end plunged downward like a tree root, ruthlessly stabbing into the massive fissure of the ancient cauldron ruins below!

Boom!

A dull roar came from the earth beneath their feet.

Su Qingzhu's expression changed, and she cried out in alarm, "It's the leyline! The leyline is responding! The withered Dragon Qi... is gathering once more!"

At this moment, on the green-dappled cloth that had already taken root in the earth, light flowed, and a row of shocking blood-red characters emerged out of thin air:

"The Twelfth Successor, Waiting for a Price."

This line of characters was filled with a cold, irresistible meaning, as if Zhang Xuanyi had become an item on a shelf, waiting for some unknown existence to come and name a price.

Zhang Xuanyi looked at that line of blood-red text but shook his head contemptuously, his lips curling into a defiant arc. "Sorry, but my stall never lists a price."

But just after he said this, another change occurred!

The "heavenly eye mung bean" in his sleeve—which had been motionless from the start and served as his initial Golden Finger—actually rolled out uncontrollably. As if drawn by some fatal attraction, it rolled down and happened to fall into the crack where the cloth had rooted into the earth—

In the next instant, an indescribable, majestic, and vast aura of life suddenly soared into the sky from that crack!

That tiny mung bean, upon contact with the cloth and the leyline, actually sprouted with a speed that defied logic!

A tender green leaf broke through the soil, and upon that leaf, miniature talismanic patterns identical to those on the "photocopy yellow paper" naturally emerged!

The spark was being reborn in a brand-new, unprecedented way!

This newborn power was so pure and wild that it drew in the surrounding Spiritual Qi, forming a small vortex.

The center of the vortex was that tiny, tender leaf shimmering with talismanic light.

Zhang Xuanyi could clearly feel a blood-linked connection established between himself and this newborn tender leaf.

It was like an extension of his own body, filled with infinite possibilities and unknowns.

His life, his Dao, were now completely tied to this strange creation that had just broken through the earth, and to the hope of this world.

And three days later, when this power has completely stabilized, what form will it take to truly reveal itself to the world?

No one knows.