## Chapter 3: Mortal Dust and Market Mysteries
The lingering scent of humiliation and nuclear noodles clung to the stable yard like a bad memory. Wang Ling scrubbed the spot where the thermos had spilled with grim determination, trying to erase the evidence and the terrifying image of Li Rong's tear-streaked, spice-traumatized face fleeing into the dusk. Master Fu hadn't fired him, miraculously, but the encounter left him feeling exposed and deeply uneasy. He needed to understand this world, even just a little.
Over the next few days, he listened harder. He picked up more words from Bin and the snippets of conversation drifting from the inn's common room. He learned "spirit stone" (*ling shi*) was money. He heard names: "Qi Refining," "Foundation Establishment," "Core Formation" – apparently levels of power, like ranks in a bizarre cosmic corporation. He heard whispers about "sects," "demon beasts," and "treasures." It was overwhelming, like trying to drink from a firehose of fantasy jargon.
One morning, Bin arrived with his porridge, looking unusually flustered. "Master Fu wants you. In the main hall. Now."
Wang Ling's stomach lurched. Was it about the noodle incident? Had Li Rong complained? He brushed straw off his simple tunic (a gift from Fu after the stable job started, replacing his ruined factory blues) and nervously entered the inn.
Old Man Fu stood behind the counter, looking serious but not angry. A few early patrons sipped tea, barely glancing at the nervous stable boy. Fu beckoned him closer, lowering his voice.
"Wang Ling. Need you to run an errand. To the Grand Bazaar." He slid a small, rough cloth pouch across the counter. It clinked softly. "Five copper spirit stones. Need you to buy two pounds of Golden-Scale Carp scales from Old Man Luo's stall. And one jar of Cloudburst Honey from Mistress Hua. You know the Grand Bazaar?"
Wang Ling shook his head mutely. He knew *of* it – the giant market square he'd glimpsed on his disastrous first day.
"Bin will point you in the right direction," Fu said. "Prices should be steady. Golden-Scale scales, one copper per pound. Cloudburst Honey, three coppers a jar. Don't get cheated. And..." Fu hesitated, his eyes briefly flickering with something unreadable. "...be careful. The Bazaar is crowded. Keep your wits about you." His gaze lingered for a fraction of a second on Wang Ling's belt pouch where he kept Fluffy tucked away, then on his face. "Can you do this?"
Wang Ling grabbed the pouch like a lifeline. An errand! Outside the stable! A chance to see more! "Yes, Master Fu! Absolutely! I won't let you down!" Relief washed over him. This was trust. This was normalcy.
Bin gave him quick, nervous directions: "Down this street, turn right at the Jade Phoenix Teahouse, straight on until you see the big stone arch with the dragon carving. Can't miss it."
Wang Ling nodded, clutching the spirit stones. He felt a thrill of nervous excitement mixed with profound relief. He was just running errands. No monsters, no angry cultivators, just shopping. He tucked Fluffy securely into his belt pouch, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the bustling street.
* * *
Verdant Spring City was overwhelming. The sheer scale, the noise, the press of bodies – it dwarfed any market day back home. People flowed like rivers: robed cultivators radiating faint auras of power that made Wang Ling instinctively edge away; merchants hawking wares from carts piled high with shimmering fabrics, strange fruits, and clinking metalwork; laborers hauling sacks; street performers juggling balls of light. The air was a thick soup of smells – roasting meats, pungent spices, sweet flowers, animal musk, and the ever-present, faintly metallic tang of... something. Qi? Magic? He didn't know.
He followed Bin's directions, wide-eyed. He passed the Jade Phoenix Teahouse, a grand building emitting soothing chimes and the scent of exotic leaves. He walked down streets lined with shops displaying things that made his head spin: glowing crystals pulsing with inner light; weapons that seemed to hum with barely contained energy; plants that moved subtly on their own; cages holding small, iridescent creatures that chittered in unknown tongues. He saw a stall selling scrolls covered in shimmering, shifting characters that seemed to dance. He saw another where a man in elaborate robes demonstrated a small, floating disc that projected illusions of landscapes. It was like walking through a high-fantasy theme park, terrifyingly real.
He finally saw the massive stone arch Bin described. Carved dragons coiled around its pillars, their stone eyes seeming to follow him. Beyond it lay chaos. The Grand Bazaar.
It was vast. Stalls crammed together in seemingly endless rows under colorful awnings. Shouts in a dozen dialects filled the air. "Fresh Spirit-Mist Mushrooms! Enhance your Qi flow!"
"Genuine Frost-Wolf Pelts! Warded against elemental chill!"
"Artifacts! Talismans! Protection from minor curses and bad luck!"
"Sky-Serpent Venom! Pure! For alchemy or... other purposes!"
Wang Ling felt utterly lost. Golden-Scale Carp scales? Cloudburst Honey? Where to even start? He wandered down an aisle, trying not to gawk. He passed stalls selling dried herbs that smelled like thunderstorms and sunshine; racks of glistening, multi-colored insect carapaces; bins of oddly shaped roots that pulsed faintly. Everything looked alien, potent, and expensive.
He saw a stall manned by a wizened old man with sharp eyes, displaying jars of iridescent powders, vials of colorful liquids, and trays of... scales. Fish scales? They shimmered with a faint golden light. *Golden-Scale Carp?* Hope sparked. He approached cautiously.
"Excuse me? Old Man Luo?"
The old man looked up, his eyes scanning Wang Ling swiftly, dismissively. No Qi, simple clothes, a mortal boy. "What do you want?"
"Golden-Scale Carp scales? Two pounds? Master Fu from the Restful Journey Inn sent me."
Luo's expression shifted minutely. "Fu, eh? Good man. Two pounds..." He turned, rummaging in a sack behind him. He pulled out a smaller sack filled with the shimmering scales. "One copper per pound. Two coppers." He held out a gnarled hand.
Wang Ling fumbled with Fu's pouch, extracting two small, coppery stones that felt warm and slightly tingly. He handed them over. Luo took them, bit one lightly, nodded, and handed Wang Ling the sack of scales. "Tell Fu his credit's still good." He turned to another customer without another word.
One task down! Wang Ling felt a surge of accomplishment. He tucked the sack of scales into his System Inventory – the infinitely convenient storage space proving invaluable. Now, Cloudburst Honey. Mistress Hua.
He asked a friendly-looking fruit seller. "Cloudburst Honey? Mistress Hua? Try the 'Essence Alley', three rows over, near the fountain. Look for the stall with the humming crystal bees."
Essence Alley was narrower, filled with stalls selling more refined-looking items: polished gemstones, intricate carvings, bottled essences that glowed. The air hummed with denser energy. Wang Ling felt out of place, like a tourist in a high-security lab. He found the fountain – a stone basin where water flowed upwards in defiance of gravity, forming shimmering patterns. Nearby, a stall buzzed faintly. Not from insects, but from small, carved crystalline bees hovering above jars of thick, luminous honey that swirled with internal clouds. A plump, cheerful-looking woman with flowers braided into her hair presided. Mistress Hua.
Wang Ling approached. "Excuse me? Cloudburst Honey? One jar?"
Mistress Hua beamed. "Ah! The finest! Harvested from hives above the Silvercloud Peaks! Three coppers, dearie." Her eyes, sharp despite her smile, flicked over him. Another Qi-less mortal. Probably running errands for some low-level cultivator.
Wang Ling handed over three copper stones. Hua took them, her smile widening. "Pleasure! Tell your master it's a fresh batch! Excellent for Qi refinement teas or soothing meridian burns!" She handed him a sturdy clay jar sealed with wax. The honey inside pulsed with soft, pearly light. Wang Ling stored it carefully.
Errands done! Relief washed over him. He had two copper stones left. Maybe... maybe he could look around? Just for a minute? The sheer wonder of the place pulled at him. He wandered away from Essence Alley, back into the more chaotic main thoroughfares.
He saw a stall selling small, carved spirit beast figurines. One looked like a tiny, fierce dragon. He picked it up. The wood felt warm. The stall keeper, a bored-looking youth, perked up. "Ah, good eye! Spirit-Oak carving! Imbued with a wisp of Earth Drake energy! Excellent for grounding unstable Qi! Only five silvers!"
Wang Ling blanched. Five *silvers*? He only had two coppers left, and he knew silvers were worth more. He quickly put the carving down. "Just looking, thanks." He moved on, feeling foolish.
He saw a crowd gathered around a large open space. Curious, he edged closer. In the center stood a massive cage. Inside paced a creature that looked like a cross between a badger and a wolverine, covered in coarse grey fur, with glowing red eyes and claws like obsidian daggers. It snarled, throwing itself against the bars, which sparked with blue energy. A man in leather armor stood nearby, holding a long prod crackling with electricity.
"Obsidian-Clawed Gnasher!" the man bellowed. "Juvenile! Barely tapped the Qi Refining stage! Perfect for guarding low-level spirit herb gardens or for aspiring beast tamers! A steal at fifty gold spirit stones! Who'll start the bidding?"
Fifty *gold*? Wang Ling stared. The creature radiated pure malice. He shuddered and backed away quickly. *Definitely* out of his league.
Feeling overwhelmed again, he decided to head back. He turned down a slightly quieter side aisle, lined with stalls selling more practical items: sturdy rope, basic tools, woven baskets, simple pottery. It felt safer. He passed a stall selling dried meats and travel rations. His stomach rumbled. He still had two coppers. Maybe he could buy something to eat?
*Ding!*
**[Daily Check-in Available!]**
**[Host is in a designated Resource Hub (Grand Bazaar)!]**
**[Would you like to Check-in now?]**
Wang Ling mentally shrugged. "Sure, why not?" He hoped for batteries. Or maybe a sandwich.
**[Daily Check-in Complete!]**
**[Reward: 1 x Smartphone (Model: StarSky X9 - Battery Depleted), 1 x Portable Power Bank (10,000mAh - Charge: 0%), 1 x Pair of Noise-Canceling Headphones (Wireless)]**
A sleek, black glass rectangle, a small blocky device, and a pair of padded headphones appeared in his Inventory. Wang Ling groaned internally. *A dead phone and dead power bank? Seriously?* And headphones? In a world without music streaming? Useless! He kept walking, frustration momentarily overriding his hunger.
He stopped at a stall selling simple meat pies. The aroma was enticing. "One pie, please?" he asked the vendor, an old woman.
"Two copper bits," she said, holding out a steaming pastry.
Wang Ling handed over his last two coins. As he took the warm pie, a commotion erupted further down the aisle. Shouts, the sound of crashing pottery, and a high-pitched, angry shriek.
People scattered. A small, furry creature, about the size of a large cat but resembling a hyper-aggressive, spiky purple squirrel, burst from behind a toppled stall. Its eyes blazed with manic green light. It chittered furiously, leaping onto a stack of baskets, sending them flying. It was incredibly fast, trailing wisps of chaotic green energy that made the air crackle. A "Chaos Weasel," Wang Ling later learned – a minor pest spirit beast, known for causing havoc and disrupting low-level Qi formations. Annoying, potentially destructive to property, but rarely directly harmful unless cornered.
The stall vendors yelled, trying to shoo it away with brooms, but it dodged effortlessly, knocking over jars of pickled roots. It spotted Wang Ling standing there, holding his meat pie, momentarily frozen. With another furious shriek, it launched itself straight at him, claws extended, a bolt of chaotic green energy crackling around it – more nuisance than threat, but terrifying to a mortal.
Panic seized Wang Ling. Instinct took over. He had the hot sauce bottle! The extra spicy one! He'd fended off the giant boar with Fluffy, maybe spicy sauce would deter this crazy squirrel? He dropped the meat pie and yanked the bottle of bright red hot sauce from his Inventory.
The Chaos Weasel was mid-leap, a blur of purple fur and green chaos sparks, jaws open wide to deliver a nasty, Qi-disrupting bite to Wang Ling's leg.
Wang Ling, eyes wide with terror, fumbled with the plastic cap. It wouldn't twist off! He squeezed the bottle desperately.
*SQUIRT!*
A thick stream of eye-wateringly red, extra-spicy sauce shot out. Not at the weasel, but slightly off-target due to his panic. It arced through the air... and landed squarely on the snout of a large, heavily muscled man in dark grey robes who had been calmly observing the commotion from the side, a faint aura of contained power radiating from him. The man had sharp features, cold eyes, and a thin scar running down one cheek. He looked like trouble.
The bright red sauce splattered across the man's prominent nose and cheek.
Time froze.
The Chaos Weasel, startled by the sudden movement and the pungent smell of capsaicin and vinegar amplified to supernatural levels, aborted its attack mid-air, twisting away with a startled yelp and vanishing into the crowd.
The vendors stopped yelling.
The man in grey robes stood perfectly still. Slowly, deliberately, he raised a hand and wiped the viscous red sauce from his face. He looked at the red smear on his fingers. Then his cold, dangerous eyes locked onto Wang Ling, who was still holding the offending bottle, his face a mask of pure, abject horror.
Wang Ling saw the aura around the man intensify, turning darker, colder. He saw the scar, the hard eyes, the way the nearby stall vendors suddenly looked terrified and backed away. This wasn't a vendor. This was someone *bad*. And Wang Ling had just shot hot sauce in his face.
"I... I'm so sorry!" Wang Ling stammered, his voice trembling. "It was an accident! I was aiming for the... the squirrel thing! It was attacking me! Please!" He held up the hot sauce bottle like a pathetic shield. "See? Just sauce! Hot sauce! From home! It's harmless! Mostly!"
The man didn't speak. He took a slow step forward. The air around him seemed to chill. Wang Ling felt a pressure, not physical, but a sense of impending doom. This man radiated menace far beyond the Chaos Weasel or even the Sky-Donks. He was Foundation Establishment, Wang Ling would later learn – a realm where cultivators could crush stone with their fists and project their will as tangible force. And Wang Ling had just insulted him with condiments.
The man raised his hand again, not to wipe, but palm out, fingers slightly curled. A faint, dark grey light began to gather around his fingertips. A punishment. A minor kinetic blast, perhaps, to teach the insolent mortal a lesson. Enough to break bones, not kill. Standard procedure for such disrespect.
Wang Ling closed his eyes, bracing for impact, clutching the hot sauce bottle. *I'm gonna die because of hot sauce,* he thought despairingly.
The grey-robed man focused his Qi, ready to release the concussive flick of power.
His Qi touched the residue of the hot sauce still on his skin.
It wasn't just capsaicin. The System's "Extra Spicy" hot sauce, within the context of this Mortal Realm, wasn't merely food. It was Essence of Scorched Heaven's Tongue, concentrated conceptual *heat* and *aggression*.
As the man's cold, disciplined Qi brushed against it, the sauce residue *reacted*.
There was no explosion. No visible flare. But the man's eyes snapped wide open. Not in anger, but in pure, unadulterated *pain* and *shock*. It felt like liquid fire injected directly into his meridians. Not just physical heat, but a spiritual burn that seared his Qi pathways, disrupting his carefully controlled energy with violent, chaotic aggression. His gathering power didn't just fizzle; it *recoiled* violently back into his core, causing a painful internal backlash. He gasped, a strangled sound, staggering back a step, clutching his chest where his Qi roiled in protest. His face, already stern, contorted in agony. Tears, unbidden, sprang to his eyes. His nose ran. The spiritual equivalent of pepper spray had just been detonated inside his cultivation base.
He looked at Wang Ling, not with anger now, but with utter disbelief and a dawning horror. The boy stood there, eyes clenched shut, holding a seemingly harmless bottle, radiating nothing but mortal fear. Yet... *this*? This impossible, meridian-scorching agony from a splash of... *sauce*? It defied everything. It spoke of power cloaked in such profound, terrifying mundanity it was incomprehensible.
The grey-robed man didn't speak. He couldn't. The spiritual burn was too intense, making his voice catch. With one last look of profound dread at Wang Ling and the innocent-looking bottle, he turned and stumbled away, pushing through the crowd, holding his chest, vanishing quickly.
Wang Ling slowly opened his eyes. The scary man was gone. The stall vendors were staring at him, mouths agape, eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and awe. The Chaos Weasel was long gone. His meat pie lay trampled on the ground.
"What... what just happened?" Wang Ling whispered, looking down at the hot sauce bottle. He wiped a stray drop off the nozzle with his thumb. It tingled slightly. "Did... did the *sauce* scare him off? Is *everything* in this world allergic to spicy food?" He shook his head, bewildered and deeply rattled. He quickly stuffed the hot sauce back into his Inventory. He needed to get back to the stable. Now. This city was too dangerous, even with condiments.
He hurried away, not noticing the figure who had observed the entire scene from the shadowed entrance of a nearby artifact shop. It was a woman, tall and elegant, dressed in robes the color of twilight, her eyes sharp and intelligent, holding a small, intricate brass device that had been humming faintly. She watched Wang Ling flee, then looked down at her device. Several delicate needles, which had been pointing steadily towards a rare artifact inside her shop, had gone completely haywire the moment the hot sauce had squirted, spinning wildly before settling back. Her lips curved into a thoughtful, intrigued smile. She hadn't sensed any power from the boy, nor initially from the bottle. But the reaction of the Foundation Establishment thug... and the artifact disruption... were deeply curious. An anomaly. A very interesting anomaly had just stumbled through the Grand Bazaar.
Wang Ling ran all the way back to the Restful Journey Inn, his heart pounding. He delivered the scales and honey to a waiting Bin, mumbled something about the market being crowded, and fled back to the sanctuary of the stable. He sat on his cot, pulling Fluffy close.
He had scales. He had honey. He had a dead phone, dead power bank, headphones, and a terrifyingly potent bottle of hot sauce. He had been attacked by a chaos squirrel and accidentally maced a terrifying cultivator with lunch condiments.
He knew the names of some cultivation levels. He knew spirit stones were money. He knew the Grand Bazaar was overwhelming and dangerous.
He still didn't know *anything*. But he knew one thing for sure: he needed to be *extremely* careful with anything the System gave him. Especially the food. The Azure Dragon Continent was weird, terrifying, and apparently had a very low tolerance for spice. He clutched Fluffy tighter, the stable's familiar smells offering scant comfort against the vast, bewildering, and sauce-phobic world outside.