89: Chapter 89: What do I need to give in return?

Wu Li did not answer.

He drifted slowly into the mourning hall, black Qi trailing behind him in a faint streak.

Candle flames flickered violently in the wind, brightening and dimming, while the shadows on the wall clawed and gestured like ghosts.

Wu Li stopped before Zhang Huaiyuan, looking down at him from above. Two dim red lights pulsed slightly where his head should be, as if appraising or scrutinizing him.

"Who I am is not important."

"What is important is what I just asked you: Do you want revenge?"

Zhang Huaiyuan's body shuddered violently, his clenched fists trembling slightly.

He stared at Wu Li; those dim red lights made him feel uneasy to his very bones, but the hatred he had suppressed for half a month surged in his chest like a volcano, overcoming his fear.

He gritted his teeth and nodded heavily, his voice squeezing out from his throat: "I do."

The moment the words fell.

Wu Li moved. With a flash, he appeared instantly before Zhang Huaiyuan, less than a fist's distance between them.

A cold, chilling aura rushed toward him like a basin of ice water poured over his head. Zhang Huaiyuan's brain buzzed; he instinctively leaned back, slipped, and fell to the ground, the back of his head hitting the base of the coffin with a dull thud.

He couldn't care about the pain, scrambling backward in a panic until his back was against the coffin, looking up at the black shadow with eyes full of terror.

Wu Li did not pursue him, merely standing in place, looking down at him from above with a raspy, indifferent voice.

"Is this it? You still want revenge? What do you have to rely on?"

A single sentence.

It made Zhang Huaiyuan's face flush red, his eyes bloodshot, and veins bulge.

He braced himself against the coffin to stand up, his whole body shaking.

"I... I still have this life!"

"A life..." "Hehehe..." Wu Li laughed.

This was not Wu Li pretending to be profound; he was genuinely laughing...

"A Mortal's life is like an ant's. Relying on just your passion, even if you were to smash yourself to death in front of them, other than disgusting them with your flesh and blood, you wouldn't be able to stir up even the slightest ripple."

Zhang Huaiyuan fell silent.

His hands were still trembling, but the fear in his eyes was being replaced by something deeper: despair.

He knew the black shadow was speaking the truth. As a Mortal, he couldn't even touch the hem of those Immortal Sect Disciple's robes, so what could he use to take revenge?

After a long silence, Zhang Huaiyuan, having calmed down, looked up at the black shadow, the madness in his eyes already receded.

"So, you appeared." "You can give me power... but I need to sacrifice something?"

Wu Li hadn't expected Zhang Huaiyuan to change so quickly. He fell silent for a moment, then nodded, the two red lights pulsing.

"Smart."

Zhang Huaiyuan took a deep breath, his clenched fists slowly loosening. "What do I need to pay?"

Wu Li did not answer directly.

He raised his hand, black mist churning in his palm. A grayish-brown cloth bag emerged from the mist and landed at Zhang Huaiyuan's feet with a dull thud.

The bag was not tied tightly, and several crystal-clear Spirit Stones rolled out, spinning on the ground and glowing with a faint fluorescence under the candlelight.

"I will give you a test first."

Wu Li's voice was raspy and indifferent. "I need you to go to the Longcheng Immortal Market and buy some things for me."

Zhang Huaiyuan's expression changed. He bent down to pick up the cloth bag and weighed it. There weren't many Spirit Stones inside, but it was enough for a Mortal to live comfortably for a lifetime.

He looked up at Wu Li, his voice tinged with difficulty: "The Longcheng Immortal Market—as a Mortal, I can't get in at all."

"That is your problem." Wu Li's voice turned cold. "If you can't even enter an Immortal Market, there is no need for me to cooperate with a piece of trash like you."

"Remember, I will only give you three days."

"The things I need are not difficult. The list is in the bag. If you return successfully, I can give you what you want."

As soon as the words fell, Wu Li's figure dissipated instantly.

The mourning hall returned to deadly silence, with only the rustling of the night wind through the white banners and the crackling of the flickering candle flames.

Zhang Huaiyuan stood there, clutching the cloth bag, looking down at the few Spirit Stones that had rolled onto the ground, silent for a long time.

Then he crouched down, picked up the Spirit Stones one by one, put them back into the bag, tied it, and tucked it into his robes.

"Father, Zhier, wait for me."

He turned and walked out of the mourning hall, his footsteps steady, without looking back.

Behind him, two coffins lay quietly, the candle flames flickering, casting shifting light and shadow over the two pale faces.

...The scene shifts. Long City.

Zhang Huaiyuan stood at the city gate, looking at the towering gate, the patrolling Cultivators on the city walls, and the lazy guards at the entrance, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

He had passed through this gate countless times, delivering documents, passing messages, running errands for his father, never feeling anything special. But at this moment, the city had changed in his eyes.

It was no longer the gate of Long City, but a barrier between the Immortal and the Mortal. Inside the gate were Immortals; outside were Mortals.

He took a deep breath, withdrew his gaze, lowered his hat brim, and stepped into the city gate.

He first went to the slum area on the north side of Long City.

It was a mixed bag of people, with every kind of person from all walks of life. He knew a few who specialized in this "guide" business.

Spending ten Spirit Stones, he found a middle-aged man nicknamed "Ground Rat."

The man was thin and withered, his small eyes darting around. After taking the Spirit Stones, he said nothing and led him through a secret tunnel into the Immortal Market.

The tunnel, dug by who knows whom, was winding and tortuous; in some places, it was only wide enough for one person to crawl through, and the air was filled with a damp, musty smell.

Zhang Huaiyuan followed behind "Ground Rat," crawling for the time it takes to burn an incense stick before emerging from an abandoned woodshed.

He had arrived inside the Immortal Market.

"Ground Rat" took the Spirit Stones and turned to leave, not staying a moment longer.

Zhang Huaiyuan brushed the dust off his body, looked up, and surveyed everything before him.

The streets were wide, lined with shops on both sides, and the Spiritual Qi was so dense that it made one's breathing feel much easier.

The people coming and going were all Cultivators; some flew on swords, some rode Spirit Beasts, and others walked in groups, chatting and laughing.

Zhang Huaiyuan lowered his hat brim, kept his head down, and mingled with the crowd until he reached a quiet alley entrance, where he pulled the list from his robes.

The list was only a single sheet of paper with a few lines of crooked writing on it.

"Crystals containing items of extreme Yang, Ore containing Yang-attributed Spiritual Qi, no restriction on grade."

"Spell-crafting Materials: blank talisman paper, cinnabar, Yao Beast blood, no restriction on grade, as long as it is fresh."

Zhang Huaiyuan froze. He stared at the paper, his mouth twitching, and his voice squeezed out from between his teeth.

"What does 'Crystals containing items of extreme Yang' mean?"

"And this 'Spell-crafting Materials'... what is this? I know you want to buy Materials, but you can't just give me the four words 'Spell-crafting Materials'."

He looked it over again and again. The list only had these few lines; there were no specific names, no grade requirements, and not even a quantity.

Crystals containing items of extreme Yang... Ore containing Yang-attributed Spiritual Qi—this he could still understand; if he went to an Ore shop and asked, he should be able to find them.

But what did the four words 'Spell-crafting Materials' mean? What Materials were needed for Spell-crafting?

As a Mortal, he hadn't even seen a Spell more than a few times; how would he know what was needed for Spell-crafting?

This wasn't because Wu Li was being vague on purpose, but because he truly didn't know what the things he wanted were called in this world, so he could only do it this way.

Zhang Huaiyuan took a deep breath, stuffed the list back into his robes, and clenched his fists.