In the Black River Sect, numerous pavilions and treasure houses stood in business, each catering to different needs. Wu Ming had no concerns about souring relations with a single shopkeeper. There were always alternatives.
Right now, he strode into the Silent Moon Treasure House. The lanterns burned dimly, casting long shadows over rows of jade boxes and lacquered shelves.
Behind the wooden counter, an elderly shopkeeper sat with half-lidded eyes. As Wu Ming approached, the old man glanced up.
"Looking for something in particular, Executioner?" His voice was hoarse, yet his gaze held an edge sharper than most blades.
Wu Ming wasted no words. "A Yellow Rank high-grade escape talisman and two healing pills."
The old shopkeeper gave a slow nod and turned to retrieve the items. A moment later, he placed them before Wu Ming.
Wu Ming picked up the talisman, running his fingers over its delicate engravings. The craftsmanship was solid. He gave a slight nod. "How much?"
"Thirty-three spirit stones. Nine for the talisman, twenty-four for the pills."
Wu Ming's expression remained impassive, but his heart bled.
The price was steep. But spirit stones spent could be earned back. Could the same be said for a lost life? It was never wise to be stingy over survival.
He took out the spirit stones, placing them on the counter. The shopkeeper counted them before sliding the items forward.
"Pleasure doing business."
Wu Ming said nothing. He stored the items in his storage pouch and stepped into the cool night breeze outside.
Wu Ming had barely taken a step when a loud, boisterous voice rang out from behind.
"Eh? Who do we have here? A lost scholar stumbling down the martial path?"
Wu Ming tilted his head back and saw Zhuo Feng strolling over, hands clasped behind his back, and his usual smug look plastered across his face.
Wu Ming's gaze eased, he taunted. "And here I thought Martial Hall dogs were supposed to guard the gates. What, did you get bored of licking boots?"
Zhuo Feng smirked. "At least licking boots fills my stomach. Meanwhile, you've been humping scrolls so long, I bet if a bastard smashed your head, you'd thank him for expanding your horizon."
Zhuo Feng was about to say more when his eyes landed on the crimson stripes on Wu Ming's robe. His smirk vanished without a trace.
A moment later, he erupted.
"Fucking hell! Execution Hall? Have you finally lost your damn mind?" His voice jumped an octave. "I told you to get out of that useless Black Ink Pavilion, but I didn't mean for you to go dig your own grave!"
Wu Ming gave him a disdainful glance. "Oh? So you wanted me to be Martial Hall's watchdog, wagging my tail like you?"
Zhuo Feng's lips twitched. "A watchdog at least gets to keep its head. You've signed up to chop heads, do you know what that means? You'll be the first to die when shit goes south! And If you do die, where the hell am I supposed to find your corpse for a proper burial?"
Wu Ming smirked uncaringly. "What is life without a little risk?"
Zhuo Feng stared at him wide-eyed before barking out a laugh. "Hah! Fucking lunatic. Fine, do what you want. But when they finally string you up, don't expect me to burn incense."
Wu Ming chuckled. "Save the incense money. You'll need it for the Black Market."
Zhuo Feng raised an eyebrow. "You heading there too?"
"Just about to."
Zhuo Feng sighed. "Tch, guess I'll babysit you a little longer. Come on, let's go."
They set off together, disappearing into the winding sect paths.
....
Morning light barely touched the rooftops when Wu Ming and Zhuo Feng arrived at his residence in the outer sect.
The long night's journey weighed on their bodies, so they rested until noon before setting out again.
Wu Ming and Zhuo Feng had traveled for long hours, night already settling over the land, but the road ahead remained long.
The wilderness beyond the sect was vast and untamed. Towering trees twisted into unnatural shapes, their roots like grasping fingers. The forest was eerily quiet, except for the occasional beast cries echoing from far away.
The black market gathering this time was held in Dark Wind Valley, a secluded gorge deep in the wilderness south of Black River Mountain. This valley was a no-man's land, a neutral ground between the Sun Sealing Sect and the Copper Moon Sect, who jointly organized this black market.
As they pressed forward in silence. The scent of wet soil thickened in the air. With each step, the ground grew looser, sinking slightly beneath their weight.
Until, suddenly the ground split open!
A jagged, armored limb burst forth, slashing through the air like a guillotine!
Wu Ming twisted back, but the attack came too fast. The sharp edge grazed his left arm, leaving a trail of blood. He barely had time to curse when the earth trembled, and more creatures emerged.
One after another, grotesque creatures clawed their way up from below. Their thick shells, caked in hardened mud, bore sickly brown hues. Their yellow eyes glowed eerily as they locked onto the intruders, mandibles clicking with sharp, grating sounds.
Mud Dragon Crabs!
Their numbers swelled in an instant, dozens of them scuttled across the swampy terrain with disturbing speed. Though their bodies resembled crabs, their faces bore the striking semblance of ancient dragons.
The largest among them led the horde. Its iron-dark shell gleamed under the moonlight, ridges like twisted horns running down its back. Unlike the others, its pincers were thick enough to crush a buffalo in a single snap.
Wu Ming unsheathed his sword. A pale green light shimmered along the blade's edge.
The leader dragon crab lunged at him, its monstrous pincers hammering down like falling boulders.
Wu Ming dodged, but the marshy ground slowed him down. The impact cracked the earth beside him.
The leader was no mindless beast. With a guttural roar, it spewed a stream of thick, muddy liquid, turning the terrain into a deathtrap.
Wu Ming's foot sank, his expression turning ugly.
The giant pincer descended once more.
Wu Ming barely slipped away, the deadly force humming past his chest. Without hesitation, he swung his blade in a flurry, sending a dozen sharp jade arcs through the air.
They struck the creature's underbelly, drawing out a shrill screech.
But rather than slowing it down, the creature's bloodlust only surged. It roared in a mad fury and lunged again.
Meanwhile, Zhuo Feng fought the horde.
His Shattering Mountains Technique was pure brute force. Each strike sent shockwaves rippling through the air, cracking shells and splintering limbs. He moved like a living battering ram, his aura a raging landslide.
But the crabs were relentless. Some burrowed into the mud, attacking from below, their pincers snapping at his legs. Others swarmed in from all directions, coordinating their strikes.
Zhuo Feng roared, slamming his fist down. The ground ruptured. Shockwaves sent the creatures tumbling back.
"Stupid crabs!" He crushed a particularly stubborn crab beneath his fist.
At this point in the fight, Wu Ming was trapped knee-deep in the mud and sinking fast.
The situation was already dire, and now the iron-shelled leader lunged once more, turning danger into desperation!
Jade light flared. Two massive dragons coiled out from Wu Ming's sword, their maws snapping shut around the crab's pincers, locking it in place.
With icy calmness, Wu Ming slashed the earth beneath him, breaking free in an instant.
Grasping the opportunity, he vaulted onto the leader's back.
The beast thrashed violently, trying to throw him off, but Wu Ming stood firm. His sword plunged into the edge of the crab's eye socket. Laughing coldly, he twisted the blade and used it like a spoon.
A wet, sloshing sound filled the air as the entire eye was scooped out from its socket, a thick cord of nerves stretching, with fragments of bloody brain matter clinging to it.
KRRREEEEEEKKKKK!!
A hideous shriek tore through the night, its agony so great that its body convulsed uncontrollably. Its remaining eye rolled wildly as it slammed its pincers into the ground, desperate to crush anything, even itself, to escape the unbearable pain.
Wu Ming held on tight. His hand sank fully into the beast's socket, and like a madman, he drove his sword into its exposed brain, stabbing repeatedly!
The beast's body seized violently before collapsing into the mud with a final shudder, its twitching limbs slowly going still.
The remaining crabs saw their leader slain and froze in hesitation. Then, one by one, they scuttled back into the swamp, vanishing into the mud, leaving only their fallen king.
Zhuo Feng panting and soaked in gore, wiped his face and let out a breath. He glanced at Wu Ming and smirked. "We should eat this damn thing."
Wu Ming chuckled, flicking the blood off his sword. "Crab feast, then."
But before they could catch their breath, a low, rhythmic buzzing filled the air.
They looked up.
And what they saw sent terror clawing through their chests!