In the Execution Hall's grand chamber, Wu Ming stood expressionless as a crimson jade token was placed in his hand. Smooth and slightly cold to the touch, it was etched with fine lines resembling veins of dried blood.
This token marked his official entry into the Execution Hall, a faction both feared and respected within the Black River Sect.
Beside him, the honest-looking youth and the short-haired girl also received their crimson sect tokens. Elder Qin then presented them with robes. Identical in design to their previous sect garments, but with the golden stripes replaced by deep red.
Wu Ming stored the robes in his storage pouch without a word.
Elder Qin stood before them, his bearing as unshakable as a mountain.
"You three have passed the entrance exam. From this day forth, you are no longer mere outer disciples. You are members of the Execution Hall. But passing the exam only means you have the qualifications to step onto this path. The road ahead is long, fraught with dangers, and unpredictable."
He paused briefly, letting his words sink in.
"As long as you remain diligent in your training and do not overreach by taking missions beyond your ability, your chances of survival and even rising in power will be high. But if you let greed cloud your judgment, you will be nothing more than another rotting corpse."
His gaze lingered on them for a moment before he waved a hand dismissively. "You may go."
With a shallow bow, Wu Ming turned and strode out of the chamber.
Outside, he paid no heed to the other two. Instead, he walked straight toward the Mission Board.
The Execution Hall's mission boards were divided into multiple sections.
Wu Ming's gaze first landed on the Investigation Board. His expression remained calm, but his intent was clear. He wanted to see if there was any mention of Su Lingxue's disappearance.
From the intelligence he had purchased from Han Zhao, he knew she had no powerful background, no ties to inner disciples or major factions. That made things simpler. However, Su Lingxue was a beauty, and beauties always had their share of admirers.
For Wu Ming, these admirers were bothersome.
Being a cautious man, not one to take risks lightly. Wu Ming believed one could never be too careful. A single misstep could lead to disaster.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he scanned each mission. His Seed of Comprehension allowed him to memorize and analyze the feasibility of every task on this board under minutes.
Yet, after going through the entire board, he found nothing on Su Lingxue.
'Not listed…' Wu Ming did not allow himself to feel relieved.
'The absence of a mission doesn't mean the matter has been buried. It could mean her admirers haven't grown suspicious yet, or that the investigation is being handled privately… Well, not much I can do. Let's see if there's a suitable mission related to the Black Market.'
He quietly moved to the Demon Hunting Board, where wanted criminals and demonic cultivators were listed.
After scanning both the Demon Hunting and Assassination Boards, he found nothing suitable.
The only mission related to the Black Market was the hunt for a sect traitor, Yan Wulei, a Sky Ocean Realm cultivator. He was once an inner disciple, but had betrayed the sect. Intelligence suggested he might appear at the upcoming Black Market gathering.
Wu Ming sighed, feeling a trace of regret.
'Too high-level for now.'
A Sky Ocean realm cultivator was far beyond his current strength. Taking such a mission would be no different from stepping into an open grave.
If he had the ability, this mission would have been perfect—killing two birds with one stone.
But for now, it was out of reach.
Shaking his head, Wu Ming stepped away from the board. Though he couldn't take the mission himself, the information was still valuable. A fugitive of this level meant stronger experts would be present at the Black Market. He would have to be extra cautious.
Thus, Wu Ming decided to purchase some lifesaving treasures.
He quickly left the Execution Hall and made his way toward the Thousand Treasure Pavilion.
But before arriving at his destination, he slipped into a desolate alley, swapped into the Execution Hall disciple robes, adjusted the cuffs, and gave himself a once-over.
Satisfied, he strode toward the Thousand Treasure Pavilion.
The shop was a grand two-story structure supported by massive obsidian pillars engraved with faint runes to suppress energy fluctuations. Inside, disciples browsed jade shelves where talismans, pills, and spiritual weapons lay secured behind layers of protective formations.
Wu Ming's gaze swept the vast hall. His eyes settled on a mortal female attendant standing near the trade counter.
Approching her, Wu Ming spoke. "I want to sell nine Yellow Rank low-grade spatial pouches."
The attendant lowered her head slightly. "Lord cultivator, please wait here. I will call the shopkeeper."
Wu Ming watched her leave, the trace of a scheme forming in his dark eyes.
....
The Pavilion's Second Floor
The female attendant hurried up a flight of polished wooden stairs, her steps light but urgent.
At the end of the hallway, she stopped before a chubby middle-aged man, who was currently calculating his profits with a sly smile.
"Shopkeeper, an Execution Hall disciple wants to sell nine Yellow Rank low-grade spatial pouches."
The shopkeeper's eyes flickered with interest.
'Nine at once? Either he looted someone or has deep pockets…'
"Where is he?"
"First floor."
The shopkeeper stroked his chin, then nodded. He stepped forward and gestured at her.
"Show me."
The female attendant turned and descended the stairs, her gaze naturally falling on Wu Ming.
The shopkeeper followed her eyes.
And there Wu Ming was, standing before a row of floating swords.
He wasn't just looking at the swords. No, he was pretty much molesting them with his gaze.
Wu Ming's fingertips trembled slightly as they hovered over a sleek, black-bladed sword.
His expression was conflicted.
Wanting. Resisting. Wanting again.
Then, he let out a sigh.
A sigh filled with reluctance, grief, and a hint of bitter acceptance.
He half-reached out, stopped midway, clenched his fist… then turned away as if tearing himself from an unfulfilled love.
Naturally, it was all an act. But If one didn't know any better, they'd think he was letting go of a childhood sweetheart.
Behind him, the shopkeeper's smile deepened.
'He wants that sword.'
The shopkeeper's eyes gleamed. Like a wolf seeing a sheep that walked into his den.
"Customer has good eyes. This Dark Edge sword is crafted from Blood Iron Essence of Dark attribute beasts, tempered for ninety-nine days in high-grade Yellow Rank Spiritual flame. Its cutting edge can shear through spirit armor of corresponding rank as if it were paper."
The shopkeeper finally spoke, his tone warm, the practiced voice of a predator pretending to be friendly.
Wu Ming paused, stiffening slightly. Then, with visible restraint, turned back to the shopkeeper.
"…Are you the one in charge?"
The shopkeeper smiled. "Indeed."
Wordlessly, Wu Ming produced nine spatial pouches and placed them on the counter.
"I want to sell these."
The shopkeeper nodded. Storage pouches were always in demand.
Wu Ming continued. "Market price is eighteen spirit stones each. I know you need to make a profit, so I'm asking for a fair price of seventeen spirit stones."
The shopkeeper immediately shook his head in refusal. "Eighteen? For second hand storage pouches of this quality? Customer, that's wishful thinking. Thirteen spirit stones is a fair price."
Wu Ming's expression grew unsightly.
"Thirteen?! Why don't I gift it to you and throw in my underwear too?! Listen carefully Shopkeeper. There's no way I'm accepting that. Seventeen! At the very least, sixteen spirit stones!"
The shopkeeper simply chuckled, not bothered by Wu Ming's words.
"Customer, I understand you frustrations. But almost everyone has storage pouches. Selling takes time. And second-hand items… well not many prefer them."
Wu Ming scowled.
Observing Wu Ming's reaction, the shopkeeper laughed in his heart. Before saying, "However, since you're from the Execution Hall, a hero battling demonic cultivators, I'll make an exception. Fourteen spirit stones each."
"Fourteen, you say..." Wu Ming wavered. His eyes filled with temptation, almost about to give in.
But when his gaze, just for a second drifted to the Dark Edge sword. A flash of desperate longing surfaced in his eyes.
The shopkeeper was an experienced man, capturing all of Wu Ming's expression.
Then, as if making a final gamble, Wu Ming gritted his teeth and slammed his hand on the counter, eyes locked with the shopkeeper.
"Fifteen! Final price. Or I'll sell them elsewhere."
The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes.
'Fifteen… that's a bit much. But, since he's so interested in that sword, If I let him sell at fifteen, he will still lose most of it when he buys the sword. Plus, I will simply raise the price and profit more.'
After a moment of thought, with a sigh of faked reluctance, the shopkeeper finally nodded.
"…Fifteen."
Wu Ming beamed.
"Shopkeeper, you're a generous man!"
The shopkeeper simply smiled, gesturing for the attendant to bring out the spirit stones before continuing, "Since you have good taste, why not take a closer look at this sword?"
Wu Ming listened with great interest, nodding along as the shopkeeper enthusiastically described the blade.
A minute later, the transaction was complete. Wu Ming pocketed his spirit stones and turned to leave.
The shopkeeper blinked.
Wu Ming was leaving.
Wait...
The realization crashed down like a mountain.
Wait! Why is he leaving?!
His feet moved before his brain caught up.
Thud!
The shopkeeper slammed his hand against the doorframe, blocking Wu Ming's way.
"Dear Customer," His smile was stiff. "Were you not… going to purchase the Dark Edge Sword?"
Wu Ming paused.
Slowly, he turned his head, his expression questioning.
Then, his gaze flickered toward the sword, but only for a moment.
And he laughed.
Laughed.
Not a low chuckle. Or even a polite snort. But a full blown, teeth flashing, shoulder-shaking roar of hearty laughter.
The shopkeeper's eye twitched.
Wu Ming patted his storage pouch, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I just thought it was interesting."
Then, without another glance, he walked out.
The shopkeeper stood there, face frozen in a half-smile, half-twitch.
The female attendant peeked at him.
"…Shopkeeper?"
A vein popped on his forehead.
The shopkeeper didn't respond. But his shoulders did tremble. And his fists tightened so hard that his knuckles cracked.
He had been played.
He had thought he was baiting a fish. Only to realize, too late, that he was the one in the net.
Outside, Wu Ming stepped into the bustling street.
He tossed a spirit stone in the air, caught it, then smirked.
'Dumbass.'