Chapter 10 Targeted?

The east was tinged with the pale light of dawn.

Shen Lian relaxed his grip on the talisman, finally able to breathe easy—the night had passed. He got up, gnawed on a sweet potato, and began making more talismans.

The day slipped away quickly.

Night fell.

After swallowing a Yellow Bud Pill, Shen Lian gripped his talismans warily as he cultivated.

"Ah... someone’s dead again!"

At dawn, that all-too-familiar scream shattered the morning calm.

Shen Lian shuddered.

He was awake, yet his whole spirit felt drained.

The sound was so close and clear—the victim must have been nearby.

He slipped from his bed, crouched by the hole he’d pried open, and peered outside.

A crowd had already gathered in the alley.

This time, the Bixue Sect’s law enforcement was patrolling close by and arrived quickly at the commotion.

People clustered outside a nearby house, whispering and pointing.

Through the gap, Shen Lian spotted Yang Li among the onlookers.

"This fellow’s luck isn’t bad—he hasn’t had his heart and lungs cut out and even has the nerve to join the crowd. Quite bold," he thought, before pulling his gaze back and stuffing the wooden slat back into place.

"Damn demon cultivators, truly despicable."

He cursed them in his heart, but knew well: a thief has a thousand days to steal, but how can one guard against thieves for a thousand days? Living in constant fear consumed his energy, robbing him of restful sleep.

"Damn it, if I can’t provoke them, at least I can hide."

"I must rent a small courtyard in the central district."

Muttering curses, Shen Lian threw his bedding aside once more and resumed his talisman-making enterprise.

No matter how ruthless the demon cultivators, life had to go on.

Night fell again.

“Go pester some other cultivator, will you? My skin’s thick and my organs filled with foul air,” he whispered his usual plea, then sat to cultivate, talismans ready in hand.

He practiced while staying alert for any sudden danger.

Over the past few months, several nearby cultivators had fallen victim to the demon cultivators—he had every reason to stay vigilant.

He didn’t know the demon cultivator’s strength, but at the very least, he needed to be able to raise an alarm and have a chance to escape.

Half a month passed.

Treasure Pavilion.

Weng Xia’s eyes lit up at the sixty Miasma-Dispelling Talismans displayed on the counter.

Within Treasure Pavilion, aside from the shopkeeper, there were nine fellow managers like him.

Recently, the sect had sent many wandering cultivators here, making the demand for Miasma-Dispelling Talismans far exceed supply. Whoever had the most stock and the best quality could command attention and win favor with the head steward.

Shen Lian was just one of the talisman masters he knew, yet had surprised him with this bounty.

Sixty talismans, worth four hundred and eighty lower-grade spirit stones.

Shen Lian had never been this well-off before.

Thank the Bixue Sect.

Thank the Noon Vein Mine.

Otherwise, this batch of talismans would fetch only two hundred and forty stones.

After carefully inspecting each talisman, Weng Xia nodded in satisfaction—they were as high-quality as ever.

“What do you need this time, friend?” he asked.

“A lower-grade talisman brush, thirty sheets of talisman paper, ten bottles of spiritual ink, and two bottles of Yellow Bud Pills.”

With the price of Miasma-Dispelling Talismans still high, Shen Lian wasn’t about to miss out on a chance to make money.

While Weng Xia prepared the materials, Shen Lian leaned on the small counter, carefully observing the cultivators coming and going.

When his gaze landed on the doorway, he met another’s eyes.

The owner of the gaze panicked, then quickly turned and left.

“Hmm,” Shen Lian’s heart skipped a beat.

He was being tailed.

Cultivators had one notable trait—a sharp memory.

With suspicion, Shen Lian recalled the face he’d just seen; it was familiar.

Since becoming a talisman master, he only ever traveled between his residence and Treasure Pavilion. Back and forth, it was always these same routes.

Each trip was at least half a month apart.

But those who frequented Treasure Pavilion were either there to buy or sell spiritual items. No one with an empty pocket would visit the place out of boredom.

He needed four hundred and twenty spirit stones for supplies, with sixty left over.

After collecting his things, Shen Lian didn’t rush to leave. Instead, he approached Manager Weng and asked, “Do you know if there are any small courtyards available for rent in the center of the market?”

“Thinking of moving?” Weng Xia replied.

Shen Lian nodded.

Though he already had several bolt-holes, he still wished to relocate to a safer courtyard in the market’s center.

“Lately, there’s been an influx of people, fights are frequent, and the houses on the outskirts simply aren’t safe,” Weng Xia said, unsurprised. Who, after all, would willingly live in a shack once they had money? Not only were they shabby, but above all, unsafe.

“Housing is always in short supply here. With the sect sending so many for mining, accommodations are even scarcer. The lodgings are managed by the General Affairs Hall, and I’m not fully informed. I’ve heard the Bixue Sect will soon be reorganizing the market. With your resources, if you’re willing to pay, it shouldn’t be difficult to co-rent a house in the central district.”

In Yunmeng Market, the stronger your abilities, the better your place of residence.

Conversely, it also meant that cultivators with strength could earn more spirit stones and thus afford better accommodations.

The entire market was built at the foot of Yunmeng Mountain.

Within the mountain lay a second-grade spiritual vein.

Along its course, more than twenty caves had been constructed.

The cave at the highest spiritual spring was reserved for the Foundation Establishment cultivator overseeing the market.

The rest belonged to disciples of Bixue Sect.

Yunmeng Market benefited from the mountain’s spiritual vein, built at its tail end.

The sect’s formation masters had centered a Spirit-Gathering Array at the spiritual vein’s end.

Shops lined the main street, with some luxurious courtyards nestled at the heart of the array.

This central area was home to ordinary disciples, managers, and clan scions of the Bixue Sect, as well as craftsmen with first-rate skills who could earn large sums of spirit stones.

In short: either you had influence, wealth, or both.

The area Weng Xia mentioned, which Shen Lian himself was considering, bordered the central core.

Here, the houses were more spacious than those on the outskirts, with two stories each.

Outside, a small fenced yard added to the comfort.

Though not within the Spirit-Gathering Array, these homes hugged its edge, soaking up some of its aura.

Most residents here were late-stage Qi Refining cultivators, or those with special skills or fortunate encounters at the mid-stage.

“Manager Weng, I’ve heard there are certain requirements for moving into the central district,” Shen Lian ventured. He’d only heard rumors before; with his prior status, he couldn’t learn more.

Even so, it was just something he’d overheard in passing.

“There are some rules,” Weng Xia conceded, “but really, you’re a talisman master—and you can earn spirit stones.”

He patted his storage pouch, a spirit stone appearing in his palm.

“What requirement could be higher than spirit stones, friend?”