Chapter 155: Ghost Market
[I cannot procure it. This item is something only you can obtain personally. I am unable to buy it for you.]
Old Hei’s mechanical tone remained calm and steady, without a hint of his usual sharp temper. More importantly, he had not returned a single one of the Yin energy crystals. Lin Huai smiled inwardly. That meant there was still a way.
She pressed forward immediately. “Then tell me, where can I find the Karma Fire White Lotus? Is there any shortcut to get to it?”
[A shortcut? Of course there is!] Old Hei’s synthesized voice turned lively, carrying a faint trace of dark amusement, as if he were setting a brand-new trap. [However, shortcuts are never a gentle walk. Sometimes, taking the short route proves far more brutal than following the standard path.]
Lin Huai paused. “What is the standard path, then?”
Old Hei answered without hesitation. [The Karma Fire White Lotus blooms within the thirteenth layer of hell, deep inside the Netherworld Blood Sea. Under normal rules, you would have a chance to claim it during the twelfth stop of the main storyline instance.]
[If you insist on taking a shortcut, you could reach the Netherworld Blood Sea right away. But if you force your way in outside the scheduled storyline trial, there is no telling what level of lethal danger you will face.]
The twelfth stop of the storyline trial?
Storyline trials only unlocked once a month. Following that schedule meant waiting nearly an entire year!
Lin Huai refused to waste that kind of time. Her voice was firm and resolute. “I will take the shortcut, regardless of how dangerous it is. The only way to protect my lead and stand a chance of reaching the very end of this road is to keep upgrading my vehicle before anyone else can catch up!”
“If I shrink back whenever things get difficult, if I run away because I am afraid of death, how could I ever expect to survive to the final destination?”
A brief silence hung on the other end of the line. When Old Hei spoke again, his synthesized voice carried a rare, genuine note of approval.
[Well said. Since you have the resolve to hold the number one position until the bitter end, I will always back you up. If you are bold enough to tackle any trial, then I am bold enough to pave the way!]
[The entrance to the Ghost Market is opening right now. Step inside and start asking questions. As long as you are willing to spend the coin, you can buy the exact shortcut you need.]
Lin Huai blinked, slightly surprised. “Doesn’t the Ghost Market spawn at completely random coordinates? And doesn’t it only appear on the fifteenth of each month?”
Old Hei’s impatience flared right back up. [Just get in there! What is with all the useless questions?]
[I am the highest-ranking system assistant on the entire server! Did you truly believe my clearance did not stretch that far?]
Lin Huai let out an amused chuckle and held her tongue, quietly slipping another pouch of Yin energy crystals through the interface as a discreet tip.
Old Hei showed no hesitation whatsoever, sweeping the crystals away the second they materialized.
The moment the transmission ended, the vehicle’s automated guide chimed sharply through the dashboard speakers:
[Mysterious transit point detected ahead: The Ghost Market. Survivor, please prepare. Stop the vehicle?]
“Stop the vehicle!”
The marker for the Ghost Market looked surprisingly humble from the highway, appearing as nothing more than a small, weathered arch built from loose gray stones.
Yet as Lin Huai stepped closer, a towering stone gateway over two meters high shimmered into existence along the riverbank.
Peering through the arch from the outside, one saw only murky, dark water, crawling with rotting ghouls and creeping river fiends. But Lin Huai understood the nature of the threshold. Once a person truly crossed the boundary, the world on the other side would transform completely.
She locked the vehicle, made sure Dong Xiaobao was resting securely, and stepped firmly through the stone arch.
The instant her boot crossed the threshold, the world around her rippled and dissolved like disturbed water, before snapping back into an entirely new reality.
A heavy blend of odors flooded her nose—rich sandalwood incense, burning spirit paper, pungent exotic spices, and a faint, sweet undertone of ancient decay.
A deafening wave of noise broke over her ears, a wild mixture of human chatter and ghostly murmurs.
She stood at the head of a massive, flagstone street. Crowded stalls and multi-story wooden shops stretched as far as the eye could see, decorated with strings of glowing lanterns.
These lights did not cast warm, gentle beams. Instead, sickly green, bone-white, and deep crimson flames burned inside the paper frames, bathing the entire market in an eerie, shifting glow that stretched the shadows of the crowd into unnatural shapes.
Looking up, the sky held neither sun nor stars. In their place hung a deep, bruised purple firmament, crossed every few seconds by silent, luminous phantoms or winged, chittering beasts.
This was the Ghost Market—a twilight crossroads where the living and the dead, wandering spirits and underworld entities walked side by side.
The wide street was packed with an endless sea of shapes.
Some walked with the clear skin of living mortals, while others wandered as gruesome apparitions, showing the drownings, falls, or blade wounds that had ended their lives. There were ancient spirits in flowing silk robes, translucent wraiths that drifted above the stone, and feral mountain goblins that had only recently learned to wear clothing.
Lin Huai also spotted several fellow survivors mixed into the crowd. Like her, they had adapted quickly to the environment, keeping their faces thoroughly concealed.
A short distance away, she noticed a few players in modern tactical uniforms, their faces hidden behind masks and wide hats, actively haggling over trinkets at a low table.
To prevent anyone from identifying her, Lin Huai adjusted her gear immediately. Leaving her combat armor on as a base layer, she pulled an oversized, blood-stained Daoist robe over the top to break up her silhouette. Finally, she threw a heavy black cloak over her shoulders, pulling the deep hood forward until her entire face was swallowed by shadow.
The noise never stopped—merchants shouting their wares, buyers driving down prices, and low voices trading secrets in the dark.
Composing herself, Lin Huai blended smoothly into the press of bodies, keeping her eyes fixed on the displays lining the road.
The variety of goods was staggering. On a vendor’s cloth to her left lay clusters of frozen Netherworld Grass, pulsating Ghost Heart Fruit, and heavy glass jars sealing trapped, weeping resentments—a prized delicacy for dark spiritual cultivators.
Across the street, an established apothecary hung a painted wooden shingle: Specializing in Underworld Artifacts and Spirit Treasures. Peering past the heavy curtains, she saw soul-summoning banners, wooden funeral staves, rusted swords wrapped in thick Yin mist, and ornate lamps carved from polished skulls.
Further down the lane, a tall, gaunt ghost wearing a high pointed hat shouted to the crowd, holding up bundles of straw-woven substitute figures. He claimed each doll could absorb a single fatal disaster on behalf of its owner.
Lin Huai paused, her interest piqued. Life-saving talismans were reasonably priced in the Ghost Market. Since she had stumbled across them, she decided to purchase a small batch to divide among the core members of the Elite Squad.
Varying vendors cycled through the market on every opening, and there was no guarantee one would ever run into the same merchant twice. While the stone shops remained permanent, the street stalls came and went like smoke.
Other tables offered bizarre spiritual services: shell-casting fortunes for affairs of the grave, temporary storage for dangerous mortal obsessions, and medium rituals to send dreams back to living relatives on the surface.
Keeping her primary goal firmly in mind, Lin Huai did not linger at the roadside stands. She pressed deeper into the market, following the street toward the quieter, less crowded alleys.
The deeper she walked, the darker the lanterns became. The stalls grew fewer and further between, but these forgotten corners were often where the truly exceptional treasures were kept.
At the end of a quiet lane, she stopped before a narrow wooden shop marked by a weathered board: The Pavilion of All Knowledge. She studied the carved characters for a brief moment, pushed aside the hanging reed screen, and stepped inside.
The shop specialized in trading high-value intelligence. At that moment, a lone customer was already seated at the counter.
