The Outer Sect Market was less a marketplace and more a sprawling, chaotic organism teeming with life, noise, and the pungent smell of desperation mixed with cheap spiritual herbs. Thousands of disciples, clad in various shades of grey and brown robes, swarmed through narrow, muddy pathways winding between makeshift stalls. Shouts of vendors hawking questionable talismans, the clang of low-grade spiritual iron being hammered, and the constant buzz of a thousand simultaneous conversations assaulted the senses.
To Lin Fan, it was hell. Every shadow seemed to hold a potential pickpocket, every overly friendly smile hid a scam, and every sudden shout was the precursor to a brawl. His hand instinctively rested on the pouch containing his emergency escape talismans, his spiritual sense stretched taut, scanning the immediate vicinity like a hyper-sensitive radar. The 'Presence Dampening' talismans worked, allowing them to blend visually, but the sheer density of people made him feel exposed and vulnerable.
Yue Qingqian, despite her inner apprehension, maintained the outward calm her Senior Brother demanded. Her mask hid her expression, and the 'Pill of Profound Calm' kept her physical reactions in check. She followed Lin Fan's precise footsteps, her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact, her entire being focused on appearing utterly unremarkable.
They moved with practiced efficiency, following the route Lin Fan had mapped out, skirting the edges of the most congested areas. They passed stalls selling everything from slightly dented practice swords and suspiciously vibrant 'healing' potions to dubious maps promising quick routes to forgotten treasure troves.
Their first stop was a stall run by a grizzled old cultivator specializing in ores and minerals. The stall was cluttered but organized, suggesting a degree of professionalism rare in this market. Lin Fan approached, adopting the hesitant manner of a nervous outer disciple.
"Senior," he began, his voice deliberately pitched slightly higher than usual, "my… master requires some materials for reinforcing a training dummy. He mentioned needing something… dense. Very dense. Something that has fallen from the sky, perhaps? Or maybe something from the deepest earth?"
He kept his questions vague, couching them in the context of a mundane task, avoiding the specific, high-value names.
The old cultivator squinted at him through cloudy eyes, then spat on the ground. "Fallen from the sky? You mean sky-iron? Got plenty of common grade stuff, cheap." He gestured towards a pile of dark, unremarkable rocks. "Deep earth? Got some basic Earth Essence Crystals, good for low-level arrays."
He clearly hadn't picked up on the real query, or didn't care. Lin Fan pressed gently, "No, Senior. Something… rarer. Something that feels… heavy. Like a star fragment? Or iron that remembers the pressure of the deep?"
The old cultivator's eyes narrowed slightly. He looked Lin Fan up and down, then glanced at the silent Yue Qingqian. "Boy, you asking about stuff way above your pay grade. Starlight Sand? Deep Ocean Black Iron? You think that stuff grows on trees out here?" He chuckled humorlessly. "Get lost, unless you got ten thousand spirit stones just to start talking."
Lin Fan bowed quickly. "Apologies, Senior. My mistake. Thank you for your time." He pulled Yue Qingqian away smoothly. Strike one.
They tried two more stalls known for dealing in rarer, miscellaneous goods. One stall owner laughed outright at their veiled inquiries. The other simply shook his head, claiming such materials hadn't been seen in the Outer Sect Market for decades.
Lin Fan felt a familiar knot of frustration tightening in his chest. This was exactly why he hated leaving his peak. The inefficiency. The unpredictability. The sheer waste of time dealing with unreliable variables.
Their pre-set time limit was nearing its end. They had one last target on Lin Fan's list: an information broker known only as "Old Man Chen," who ran a dilapidated tea stall in a slightly less chaotic corner of the market. He was rumored to hear everything.
They found the stall – a couple of rickety tables under a tattered awning. Old Man Chen was a wizened figure with eyes that seemed far too sharp for his age, calmly sipping tea amidst the surrounding noise.
Lin Fan approached cautiously. He didn't ask about materials directly. Instead, he ordered two cups of the cheapest tea and, as he paid, slipped an extra, low-grade spirit stone onto the counter.
"Senior Chen," Lin Fan said quietly, leaning slightly closer. "We hear interesting things sometimes fall from the sky lately. Any unusual meteor showers reported?"
Old Man Chen took a slow sip of his tea, his sharp eyes glancing at Lin Fan's masked face, then at Yue Qingqian's. He picked up the extra spirit stone without comment.
"Sky's been quiet," he rasped, his voice like dry leaves rustling. "But... stones from the sky aren't the only things that fall." He paused, taking another deliberate sip. "Heard a rumor. A group of reckless fools from the Outer Sect Hunting Hall took a commissioned trip to the 'Sunken Reef Maze' a month ago. Dangerous place. Full of pressure currents and deep-sea beasts."
Lin Fan's breath caught, but he kept his posture relaxed.
"Most didn't come back," Old Man Chen continued, his eyes gleaming faintly. "But the few survivors… they weren't empty-handed. Talked about finding some kind of strange, heavy, black metal near a volcanic vent. Cursed stuff, they said. Hard to work with. Drains spiritual energy."
Deep Ocean Black Iron.
"Where are these survivors now?" Lin Fan asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
Old Man Chen shrugged. "Scattered. Laying low. Probably trying to figure out how to sell their find without attracting the wrong kind of attention. Stuff like that... tends to show up eventually. Maybe at the 'Ghost Market' next month, if they're brave enough."
The Ghost Market. An illicit, underground trading event held at irregular intervals, known for dealing in stolen goods and extremely rare, often dangerous materials. It was ten times more perilous than the regular Outer Sect Market.
Before Lin Fan could process this new, dangerous lead, he felt it – a sudden, hostile gaze locking onto them from across the crowded pathway. His head snapped up.
Standing not twenty feet away, flanked by two thuggish-looking companions, was Wang Teng. His face contorted with a mixture of surprise and malicious glee as he recognized their general build and the cheap Outer Sect robes, even with the masks. He clearly hadn't forgotten his humiliation at Xiao Xiao Peak.
"Well, well," Wang Teng sneered, his voice loud enough to draw attention. "Look what the cat dragged in! If it isn't the mighty Quasi-Saintess and her useless Senior Brother, slumming it with us common folk!"
Lin Fan cursed inwardly. Rule Number Two was about to be violated. He grabbed Yue Qingqian's arm.
"Time to go," he hissed. "Now." They turned, melting back into the crowd, leaving their half-finished tea behind. Wang Teng made a move to follow, but Old Man Chen subtly shifted his tea stand, momentarily blocking the path.
Lin Fan and Yue Qingqian didn't look back. They navigated the chaotic market with practiced speed, taking several random turns before finally reaching the edge and taking flight, disappearing quickly towards the distant, safe haven of the Ninth Peak.
Back in the safety of his hut, Lin Fan finally allowed himself to breathe. They had a lead. A dangerous, uncertain lead that pointed towards the Ghost Market. But it was a lead.
However, they also had a new, immediate problem. They had been seen. And Wang Teng was not the type to let an opportunity for trouble pass him by.