Yue Qingqian landed softly in the courtyard, the familiar, comforting energy of Xiao Xiao Peak washing over her, easing the tension that had gripped her since entering the Deep Storage Vaults. She saw Lin Fan emerge from his hut almost instantly, his expression sharp and questioning.
Without a word, she held out the dark cloth pouch.
Lin Fan took it, his movements economical and precise. He didn't immediately celebrate. Instead, he retreated into his hut, Yue Qingqian following closely behind. He reactivated the full isolation arrays, plunging the small space into secure silence.
Only then did he carefully empty the pouch onto his workbench.
The three black, stone-like orbs lay there, absorbing the dim light. They looked utterly unremarkable, like something a child might pick up by a riverbed.
Lin Fan produced a set of delicate instruments – thin probes made of spirit-neutral wood and a small, multifaceted crystal lens. He first used the lens, peering intently at the surface of each orb, checking for microscopic runes or markings. Finding none, he nodded slightly. Counterfeits often betrayed themselves with imperfections in attempting to replicate complex auras spiritually.
Next, he picked up one of the wooden probes and gently touched it to the surface of the first orb. He closed his eyes, his spiritual sense flowing through the neutral medium of the wood, carefully analyzing the faint energy signature within.
Yue Qingqian watched, holding her breath.
After a long moment, Lin Fan opened his eyes. He repeated the process with the other two orbs. Finally, he straightened up, a minuscule sigh escaping his lips – the closest he ever came to expressing profound relief.
"They're authentic," he stated, his voice flat but firm. "The fossilized yin signature matches the descriptions. Faint, cold, ancient... the residual imprint of a Shadowscale Viper's life force, locked in stone over millennia."
He carefully placed the three Serpent's Eyes back into the Harmony-Sealing Pouch, then added another layer of insulating cloth before tucking the pouch deep within a lead-lined box in his storage shelves.
"Three keys," he murmured, more to himself than to Yue Qingqian. "More than enough. One for entry, potentially one for an emergency exit if their protocols allow, and one spare."
He turned away from the secured tokens, his mind already shifting gears. The relief of acquisition was instantly replaced by the crushing weight of the next phase.
"The Ghost Market," he said, pulling out the blackened paper crane message and the sect map again. "Blackwind Caverns. Less than two weeks remain."
He began to pace the small confines of the hut, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. "This is infinitely more dangerous than the Deep Storage Vaults. Gamma-9 was forgotten, neglected. The Ghost Market is actively managed, filled with desperate, ruthless cultivators, and likely overseen by organizers who value anonymity and enforce rules with lethal force."
He stopped and looked at Yue Qingqian. "Our previous disguises are insufficient. The organizers will likely have methods to see through simple illusions or aura dampening for anyone entering their territory. We need something more robust."
He tapped a finger on the map. "Blackwind Caverns is known for chaotic wind currents and spatial distortions. We can use that. We won't go as simple outer disciples. We will go as... scavengers. Disciples who specialize in navigating dangerous environments to salvage rare materials."
His mind was already designing their new cover identities and the necessary props. They would need worn, patched robes, specialized climbing gear (non-spiritual, of course), and perhaps even some minor, cosmetic injuries to look the part. Their cultivation would need to be masked more cleverly – perhaps using a technique that mimicked the fluctuating energy patterns common in cultivators who frequently braved unstable environments.
"Furthermore," he continued, "we cannot go together, not visibly. It attracts too much attention. I will go in first, secure entry, and scout the layout. You will follow half an hour later, using the second token. We establish a non-verbal communication signal beforehand. Our goal is singular: locate someone trading Deep Ocean Black Iron, acquire it quickly and cleanly, and leave before the market closes or trouble finds us. No browsing, no side deals, no unnecessary interactions."
He looked again at the array blueprint, his gaze lingering on the empty circles. "The Starlight Sand... we still have no leads. We will keep an ear out at the Ghost Market, but acquiring the Black Iron takes absolute priority. Without it, the stabilization matrix cannot be built, and the entire array is useless."
He checked the small hourglass on his workbench. "Time is critical. I need to continue forging the components I can complete. You," he looked at Yue Qingqian, "need to rest, fully recover your spiritual sense from the library transfer and the storage vault excursion. And then... we begin rehearsals for our new roles."
Before starting his work, he paused at the door of the hut and glanced towards the other small hut where their master slept peacefully, still under the influence of the Dream Lily pollen, oblivious to the dangerous paths his disciples were treading. A fleeting shadow crossed Lin Fan's face, a silent acknowledgment of the complex web of deception he was weaving, even around the person he nominally served.
He pushed the thought aside. Sentimentality was a luxury he couldn't afford. Survival demanded focus. He closed the door, and the rhythmic tapping of his tools began once more, a quiet, determined beat against the encroaching deadline.