The entrance to the Blackwind Caverns was a jagged scar on the mountainside, partially hidden by twisted, wind-battered trees. Even from a distance, Lin Fan could feel the chaotic energy emanating from it – sharp gusts of wind carrying faint, unsettling whispers, and a subtle distortion in the surrounding spiritual field that spoke of unstable spatial pockets.
He landed his sword a safe distance away, concealing it carefully before approaching the entrance on foot. He moved like a shadow, his disguised, fluctuating aura blending seamlessly with the chaotic background energy of the area.
Two figures, cloaked and masked entirely in black, stood motionless on either side of the cavern mouth. Unlike the bored sect guards, these emanated a palpable aura of lethal intent. Their cultivation levels were deliberately obscured, but Lin Fan's instincts screamed danger. These were the gatekeepers of the Ghost Market.
Lin Fan approached, keeping his head slightly bowed, projecting the image of a low-level scavenger hoping for a lucky break. He didn't speak. He simply held up the cold, black Serpent's Eye token.
One of the figures reached out a gloved hand, not taking the token, but hovering their fingers just above it. A faint, almost invisible wisp of black energy snaked out from their fingertips and coiled around the orb. After a moment, the energy retracted. The figure gave a single, curt nod.
The entrance, which had appeared solid, shimmered like water. Lin Fan stepped through the illusionary barrier and was immediately enveloped in darkness and the howling roar of wind.
The interior of the Blackwind Caverns was a disorienting labyrinth. Tunnels twisted and turned, buffeted by unpredictable gusts of wind that shrieked like lost souls. Strange, phosphorescent fungi provided a dim, eerie illumination, casting long, dancing shadows. Lin Fan immediately activated a secondary 'Direction Sense' talisman – relying solely on spiritual sense in such a place was courting disaster due to the spatial distortions.
He followed the faint, almost imperceptible markings scratched onto the tunnel walls – likely directions left by the market organizers. The path led downwards, deeper into the mountain's belly. He passed several side tunnels from which he felt dangerous energy fluctuations – the lairs of Wind Demons or entrances to unstable spatial pockets. He stuck rigidly to the marked path.
After nearly half an hour of navigating the treacherous tunnels, the howling wind began to subside, replaced by a low, dissonant hum – the collective murmur of hundreds of hushed voices and the thrum of contained spiritual energies. He rounded a final bend and stepped into a vast, naturally formed cavern.
This was the Ghost Market.
It was a stark contrast to the bright chaos of the Outer Sect Market. Here, darkness reigned. Stalls were set up haphazardly, lit only by dim, flickering soul-fire lamps or glowing crystals. Every single figure, vendor and customer alike, was cloaked and masked. Anonymity was absolute, enforced by an unspoken, heavy threat that permeated the air.
The wares on display were far different too. Lin Fan saw cursed artifacts radiating palpable malice, bottled demonic spirits writhing against their seals, forbidden cultivation techniques inscribed on bone slips, and strange, unidentifiable body parts floating in preservative fluids. Mixed amongst these were genuinely rare herbs, ores, and beast materials – the reason people braved this place.
Lin Fan felt his paranoia spike to near-unbearable levels. Every shadow could conceal an assassin, every transaction could be a trap. He could sense multiple powerful auras hidden amongst the crowd – likely Foundation Establishment cultivators, perhaps even rogue Golden Core experts operating outside the sect's laws.
He forced himself to remain calm, blending into the throng of similarly cloaked and masked figures. He kept his head down, his movements slow and deliberate, projecting the image of a cautious scavenger, wary but not out of place.
His primary objective was reconnaissance. He needed to locate the rendezvous point and identify potential sellers of the materials they needed. He slowly circled the cavern, his spiritual sense carefully shielded but subtly probing, listening more than looking.
He heard snippets of hushed negotiations:
"...three drops of Ghost King's Tears, genuine article, guaranteed to corrode a Golden Core defense..."
"...map fragment leading to the Sunken Moon Palace? Too risky, even for me..."
"...that fool from the Hunting Hall? Heard he sold his haul of black metal cheap just to get out of the sect's territory..."
That last snippet made Lin Fan's ears prick up. Black metal. Deep Ocean Black Iron. The rumor was true. But who bought it? And were they here?
He continued his circuit, noting the layout. The cavern was roughly circular, with multiple tunnel exits. Near the eastern wall, just as his map indicated, was a massive, collapsed stalactite formation, creating a shadowed alcove – the designated rendezvous point. Perfect. It offered some cover and a clear view of a large section of the market.
He scanned the stalls again, this time looking specifically for vendors dealing in high-grade ores or unusual forging materials. He spotted three possibilities: a stall shrouded in frost-mist displaying rare ice-attribute materials, another piled high with various unrefined ores guarded by a hulking, silent figure, and a third, smaller stall run by a diminutive, hunched figure who seemed to specialize in 'unusual geological samples'.
He filed them away in his mind. He wouldn't approach yet. He needed Yue Qingqian. Attempting a high-value transaction alone was too risky.
He checked the small, internal chronometer talisman he carried. Nearly an hour had passed. Yue Qingqian should be arriving soon.
He subtly made his way towards the collapsed stalactite formation, finding a deep shadow where he could observe without being easily seen. He leaned against the cold stone, his senses on high alert, waiting for his Junior Sister, his actress, his partner in this insane heist, to make her entrance into the viper pit. The most dangerous part of the night was about to begin.