Chapter Two: Peril at the Market, Treachery in the Shadows

The marketplace lay at the heart of the small town, its clamorous roar crashing over Dong Changfeng like surging, tumultuous waves. The cries of vendors and the haggling of buyers intertwined into a chaotic symphony, buzzing relentlessly in his ears.

It was Dong Changfeng’s first time in such a place; his eyes nearly dazzled by the dazzling array of goods and the ceaseless flow of people, leaving him somewhat overwhelmed. He clutched his money pouch tightly, feeling the coarse fabric rubbing against his palm—a pouch containing the hard-earned silver he feared might be stolen.

Carefully weaving through the crowd, his gaze swept like a searchlight over the surrounding stalls, seeking items that might aid his cultivation. The air was thick with mingled aromas: the cloying sweetness of candied hawthorn, the smoky fragrance of roasted meat, and the exotic scent of unfamiliar spices, all invading his nostrils and stirring his senses. He drew in a deep breath, the rich fragrance penetrating his sinuses, causing his stomach to rumble.

Yet cultivation was paramount; he resolved to spend his money wisely, focusing only on essentials.

As he wandered, his attention was caught by a modest stall tucked away in an inconspicuous corner. Displayed upon it were various bottles and jars, alongside oddly shaped stones. The vessels shimmered faintly under the sunlight, and the stones bore peculiar patterns, suggesting they might be pills and materials used in cultivation.

The stall’s owner was an elderly man with graying hair, eyes narrowed in leisure as he fanned himself with a woven fan. The gentle breeze from the fan brushed lightly against Dong Changfeng’s face.

“Young sir, anything catch your eye?” the old man greeted warmly upon seeing Dong Changfeng, his face creased with deep lines etched by time, yet radiating kindness.

Hesitant, Dong Changfeng approached the stall and pointed to a jade bottle. “Sir, may I ask what this pill is?”

The old man picked up the jade bottle, running his fingers over it thoughtfully before lowering his voice conspiratorially: “You’ve got a keen eye! This is the ‘Spirit-Concentrating Pill.’ It helps cultivators rapidly advance their cultivation—quite a rare treasure in the market!”

At these words, a flicker of desire sparked in Dong Changfeng’s eyes. He had heard tales of the Spirit-Concentrating Pill—said to greatly accelerate the absorption of spiritual energy and the pace of cultivation. For a cultivator with a mortal spiritual root like himself, it was a coveted prize.

“And… how much does it cost?” Dong Changfeng asked nervously, fingers grazing the thin pouch holding his scant silver, unease stirring within him.

The old man stretched out his hand, fingers splayed, smiling broadly. “Not much—five hundred taels of silver.”

Dong Changfeng’s breath caught sharply, a chill like icy needles stabbing his throat.

Five hundred taels! That was no small sum; all the silver he had painstakingly saved barely reached that amount.

“Sir, could you possibly lower the price?” he ventured cautiously.

The old man shook his head regretfully. “Young sir, that’s already my lowest price. This is genuine Spirit-Concentrating Pill. Were it not for our destined connection, I wouldn’t part with it.”

Dong Changfeng remained uncertain, unsure whether the old man’s words were true.

Just then, a passing middle-aged man patted his shoulder firmly and whispered, “Young man, that old Li is infamous for being a swindler. Watch yourself!”

“Old Li?” Dong Changfeng’s heart skipped—could he have been duped?

He eyed Old Li warily.

Sensing the change, Old Li smiled and said, “Young fellow, I see you’re a cultivator. I’ll offer you this Spirit-Concentrating Pill for four hundred taels—consider it a goodwill gesture.”

Dong Changfeng said nothing, fixing his gaze unblinkingly on Old Li, trying to discern his true nature.

Old Li grew uneasy under the scrutiny, clearing his throat. “Young man, you…”

He rubbed his hands and continued his sales pitch: “Listen, this pill isn’t ordinary! Look at its color and sheen—top quality! Take it and your cultivation will skyrocket, faster than a rocket!”

Spittle flew as he spoke enthusiastically, some droplets even landing on Dong Changfeng’s face. His words painted the pill as a miraculous elixir.

Dong Changfeng calmly examined Old Li and then the so-called Spirit-Concentrating Pill, inwardly skeptical: Could this thing truly be so miraculous?

It looked more like candy made from street sugar.

He recalled Zhao Er’s warning: “The marketplace is full of all sorts—be vigilant when buying! Some merchants peddle inferior goods disguised as treasures, deceiving customers with trickery. Observe carefully and test with your spiritual energy to avoid being cheated.”

Concentrating, Dong Changfeng summoned his faint spiritual energy and cautiously probed the pill.

The moment his energy touched it, a sticky resistance gripped him, as if his hand had plunged into viscous mud, impossible to withdraw. The sensation was wrong.

A genuine Spirit-Concentrating Pill should swiftly absorb spiritual energy.

He scrutinized the pill’s patterns, noting their roughness and disorder, devoid of any spiritual energy fluctuations—completely unlike what Zhao Er had described.

Seeing Dong Changfeng’s hesitation, Old Li grew nervous. “So, young man, will you buy or not? Don’t waste my time if you’re not interested!”

Curious onlookers began casting glances, whispering like buzzing mosquitoes.

Dong Changfeng took a deep breath, a faint, barely perceptible smile curling his lips.

“Old Li,” he said slowly, his calm voice rippling like gentle waves on a still lake, “your pill… is probably fake, isn’t it?”

His smile deepened, but his eyes sharpened like blades, piercing Old Li’s guilty conscience.

Old Li’s face changed color, his eyes darting nervously as he laughed nervously, “Young sir, what are you saying? I, Old Li, deal honestly with all—this is a secret family recipe…”

“Secret recipe? More like a con!” Dong Changfeng cut him off bluntly, sarcasm lacing his words like arrows aimed straight at Old Li. “This pill has no spiritual energy, its patterns are crude, clearly made from inferior materials! Do you take me for a child?”

Exposed, Old Li’s face flushed crimson, burning like flames of shame and anger.

“You don’t understand! This is a top-grade Spirit-Concentrating Pill—it just hasn’t been activated yet! Stop spreading lies and ruining my business!” He brandished his arm to shoo Dong Changfeng away, stirring a gust of wind.

But Dong Changfeng was not deterred. He seized Old Li’s wrist, feeling the loose skin and frail bones beneath, voice icy cold: “I’m putting it plainly—you’re selling fake pills and deceiving people. You owe me an explanation.”

Intimidated by Dong Changfeng’s force, Old Li faltered, struggling to pull away but held fast.

Sensing the moment, Dong Changfeng raised his voice, booming like a great bell through the marketplace, resolutely declaring:

“Friends and neighbors, open your eyes! This Old Li sells fake pills and cheats people—don’t be fooled!”

An uproar erupted as the crowd turned on Old Li.

“Old Li, you’re shameless!”

“I used to trust you, but you’re nothing but a fraud!”

“I’ll never buy from you again!”

Surrounded and shamed, Old Li fell silent, his face burning with humiliation.

Dong Changfeng released his grip, casting one cold glance at the old man before turning to continue his search for suitable items amid the bustling market.