279: Before the Dark Raven Meeting

The afternoon sun was at its peak, filtering through the thick foliage of an old tree outside the tent, weaving a shifting pattern of dappled light and shadow on the ground like scattered bits of broken gold.

As the wind blew, the shadows of the leaves swayed along with it, adding a sense of flowing warmth to the dry heat in the air.

Situ Jun held Hua Hanxiang's hand, walking slowly toward the Qingyun Chamber of Commerce.

Hua Hanxiang's skirt brushed against the grass on the ground; occasionally, as light and shadow passed over it, a faint golden glow would bloom on the moon-white fabric, making her figure appear even more graceful.

Half a mile away from the Qingyun Chamber of Commerce's Flying Ship, the scenery along the way had already become lively.

On the open ground in front of the Flying Ship, a small market had spontaneously formed at some point—this was originally a place for Cultivators to take temporary rests, but now it was filled with various stalls, becoming a venue for trading Spiritual Artifacts, Magic Treasures, Spiritual Plants, and Medicinal Pills.

Cultivators of all kinds crouched or stood, spreading cloth on the ground. Upon them were laid Spiritual Artifacts shimmering with spiritual light, Medicinal Pills wrapped in oil paper, Spiritual Plants still carrying the scent of earth, and even several sections of fishy-smelling Yao Beast bones.

Cries of hawkers rose and fell; as soon as the two stepped into the edge of the market, a wave of clamor wrapped in a mixture of scents rushed toward them.

“Top-quality Southern Border Healing Pills! Stop bleeding in three breaths, regenerate flesh in five breaths! If you miss today, you'll have to wait another ten years!”

A man wearing coarse cloth short-sleeved clothes shouted with a booming voice, holding up a jade bottle. As soon as the stopper was pulled, a rich medicinal fragrance wafted far away, drawing several Cultivators to surround him.

An old man at the neighboring stall, unwilling to be outdone, tapped the wooden box in his hand and shouted:

“Inedia Pills! Freshly refined Inedia Pills! A bottle of ten pills for only ten Low-Grade Spirit Stones, enough for three days of rations. Fellow Daoists, come and take a look!”

In the wooden box before him, rows of porcelain bottles were neatly arranged. The sun shone on the bottles, reflecting the pale green pills inside.

This attracted several young Loose Cultivators who crouched on the ground flipping through the porcelain bottles, their voices chirping as they haggled.

“Scarlet Flame Stone! Just dug out from a Southern Border volcano! A top-grade material for refining fire-attribute armor. Fellow Daoists who know their goods, come and bid; highest bidder wins!”

The one selling Materials was a bearded Cultivator. Before him lay a red stone the size of a fist; sparks faintly flickered on its surface, and one could feel a scorching wave of heat when getting close.

Further away, a Cultivator in green robes held up a wooden sign, shouting with a deeply furrowed brow:

“Hiring Guards! Still missing one Fellow Daoist proficient in Trapping Formations! Guard the outskirts of the Nether Crow Cave Mansion; upon return, you'll get a thirty percent share of the profits. Remuneration is negotiable, minimum fifty Mid-Grade Spirit Stones!”

Suddenly, an argument broke out in the crowd.

“Damn it, what are you pushing for?”

A female Cultivator in a pink dress suddenly pushed away the man beside her, her brow twisted into a knot:

“You smell like the fishy stench of Yao Beast blood, stay away from me!”

The man was not to be outdone either, rolling up his sleeves to argue. A circle of onlookers immediately gathered around to watch the excitement; the sounds of haggling, calling out to friends, and arguing and cursing mixed together, creating a vivid scene of Cultivator commerce.

The smells in the air were even more complex.

The bitter fragrance of Spiritual Plants, the sweet and cloying scent of Medicinal Pills, and the charred aroma wafting from the barbecue grills at the street corner mixed with the sour sweat of Cultivators on the road, the fishy smell from Yao Beast inner cores displayed at some stalls, and the dust on the ground, all rushing into the nostrils at once.

Hua Hanxiang subconsciously frowned, yet she still widened her eyes in curiosity; this was the first time she had seen such a gathering of so many Cultivators.

Some wore the uniform brocade robes of a Sect, with School tokens hanging at their waists and arrogant expressions; some wore patched coarse cloth clothes, carrying worn-out bags, their eyes alertly scanning the surrounding stalls—these were Loose Cultivators who drifted all year round. There were also a few wearing black robes with skull patterns embroidered on the collars, their auras dark and sinister; one could tell at a glance they were evil Cultivators.

Furthermore, some wore bamboo hats and veils, even deliberately restraining their auras, revealing only a pair of flickering eyes as they wove through the crowd, who knew what they were planning.

These people were wary of each other, yet because of this temporary market, they had to converge, and even the air was permeated with a subtle tension.

Occasionally, a Golden Core Cultivator with a condensed aura would walk by, and their surrounding fluctuations of spiritual power would make lower-level Cultivators subconsciously step back, automatically clearing a small area.

Those Golden Core Cultivators either passed through the market expressionlessly or stopped in front of a stall they were interested in, drawing gazes of awe and wariness from those around them.

Hua Hanxiang watched in a daze and subconsciously leaned a step closer to Situ Jun, her slender hand gently taking his arm. The tassels of her moon-white cloak swayed with her movements, and her lips under the thin veil were slightly pursed, but her beautiful, flowing eyes didn't stop, curiously observing the bizarre sights around her—Cultivators arguing over the age of Spiritual Plants at a stall, a vendor secretly handing something to a customer, and people conducting low-voiced transactions in a corner, producing several glittering Spirit Stones with a flip of a hand.

Situ Jun's expression was calm, yet an invisible field naturally emanated from him, slightly pushing aside the crowding people.

His gaze was sharp as an eagle's; as he scanned the market, he had already committed key information to memory: the few Cultivators in green robes to the east had 'Xuanshui Sect' jade pendants at their waists, clearly a Sect outpost; the black-robed man sitting alone on a rock to the west carried the lingering scent of blood and a fierce aura, with calluses from years of holding a blade on his fingers—a tough loner; and the two seemingly ordinary herb stalls to the south had faint Formation fluctuations beneath them, clearly setting up secret defenses.

Passing through the bustling market, they arrived at the auction site of the Qingyun Chamber of Commerce.

This was set in an open valley on the side of the Flying Ship. The valley had been temporarily renovated, the ground paved with smooth bluestone slabs, and a high platform had been built in the center.

The platform was covered with bright red brocade, the edges of which were embroidered with the cloud patterns of the Qingyun Chamber of Commerce, appearing exceptionally luxurious under the sun.

Dozens of wooden tables and chairs were placed around the high platform, with teacups on the tables. Many Cultivators were already seated, conversing in low voices in groups of twos and threes.

Four Guards stood on each side of the high platform, wearing silver armor with blades at their waists. Their auras were as solid as boulders, and their sharp gazes swept across the entire venue, not missing even the slightest movement in the corners.

Situ Jun took out a gold-stamped invitation from his Storage Pouch and handed it to the Guard at the entrance.

The Guard took the invitation, carefully verified the runes on it, then looked up at Situ Jun. A flicker of awe passed through his eyes, and he quickly stepped aside to let them pass:

“City Lord Situ, please come in.”

The two found a seat toward the back. Just as they picked up the tea on the table, Situ Jun felt several gazes fall upon him.

He calmly raised his eyes and saw a bald monk in a gray robe staring at him from a nearby table.

The monk's face was covered in deep wrinkles like old tree bark, and his head was completely bald without a single hair, showing only a few dark red ritual scars. His eyes were as sinister as a venomous snake; he was exactly the Withered Bone Ascetic of the Ten Thousand Gu Sect.

Seeing Situ Jun look over, the Withered Bone Ascetic's lips curled into a cold sneer, revealing several yellowed teeth. He even licked his lips with his tongue, carrying a hint of undisguised provocation.

With Situ Jun's Cultivation, however, he couldn't be bothered to pay him any mind. He simply looked down at Hua Hanxiang beside him and gently patted the back of her hand, his gaze gentle:

“Sit peacefully, I am here.”

Hua Hanxiang nodded, and the slight coolness in her fingertips faded a bit.