In a corner of the black market, Wu Ming sat cross-legged behind a makeshift stall. Among the sea of vendors, no cultivator paid him any attention until he laid out a white cloth holding a small pile of blood-hued crystals.
Scarlet Blood Crystals!
One by one, heads began to turn.
"What's that?" murmured a veiled woman, her eyes darting toward the crystals.
A soft whisper entered her ear. "Scarlet Blood Crystals. Black Rank low-grade."
She hesitated. "How much?"
Wu Ming's voice was calm but loud enough for all nearby to hear. "Limited stock. Starting price is three hundred spirit stones. Bidding starts now. No touching the Scarlet Blood Crystals unless you bid."
Within moments, more interested buyers appeared, their divine senses brushing against the crystals, messages flying between them.
"Three hundred ten spirit stones."
"Three hundred twenty-five."
Wu Ming remained watching. He had no intention of selling just yet.
"Three hundred forty."
"Three hundred fifty spirit stones!"
The bids continued to climb higher, and the smile on Wu Ming's face wider. While a good portion of his thoughts were focusing on learning the Blood Escape technique.
At the same time, the massive copper spear hovered silently in the skies above the black market. Its vast surface gleamed like an artificial sun, positioned to oversee the vast halls below.
Inside, three elderly figures sat around a low copper table. They looked to be in their sixties, their auras having unfathomable depth.
On the left sat Grand Elder Yao Cheng of the Copper Moon Sect, his thick eyebrows shaped like twin blades and his presence heavy as molten bronze. He rarely smiled, but today, a faint curve graced his lips.
Opposite him, Grand Elder Sun Mu of the Sun Sealing Sect fanned himself slowly with a jade fan. His golden robes carried the insignia of a burning sun, and though his expression remained ever-polite, the flicker in his eyes resembled hidden blades unsheathed.
Between them sat a thin, hawk-nosed man in simple gray robes. His face was weathered, but his gaze remained keen and unwavering. A tiny mechanical spider rested beside his fingers, its limbs curled inward in slumber, its body etched with runes barely visible to the naked eye.
This was Old Man Han, a renowned puppet path master. A lone cultivator who had built his legacy from blood, sweat, and crafting mechanisms.
Yao Cheng's voice carried a respectful weight. "We from the Copper Moon Sect have long admired your skill, Fellow Daoist Han. The Copper Moon Sect lacks a true master of puppetry. Should you wish it, the sect will grant you an Elder position immediately. You shall have your own peak, access to two spirit springs, and elite disciples to command. None shall be denied."
Sun Mu's fan ceased its motion. His voice flowed like a calm stream, yet every word was measured. "The Copper Moon Sect has land, yes. But if it's resources you desire, the Sun Sealing Sect will not disappoint you. We offer you the same the Copper Moon Sect is willing, and even full access to our Thousand Arms Library."
Old Man Han chuckled lightly, rubbing the motionless spider. "Esteemed elders from two noble sects, extending such generosity to a wandering old man. I fear I may fail to meet your expectations."
Elder Cheng leaned forward slightly. "Fellow Daoist Han, this old man dares not speak empty praise. Your name has long resounded in the cultivation world. Those puppets of yours have walked through storms and flames, and the techniques behind them rival the legacies of sects with centuries of history."
Elder Sun Mu added, "Perhaps you dislike sect politics. But what about legacy? Even lone cultivators must consider legacy. The path of man is brief. One must think beyond oneself. Who will carry your Dao after your bones have returned to the soil?"
Old Man Han raised an eyebrow. "Legacy is for the dead. I am still alive."
Silence settled over the room.
Old Man Han's voice was soft, but his words landed like stones.
He continued speaking slowly, "The righteous path offers security but binds one to a name. To abandon morality for unrestrained ambition is the demonic path. But the path of a lone cultivator is one of self-reliance. To tie oneself to a sect, no matter how grand, is to wear golden shackles. I value my freedom more than any offered peak."
Hearing this, Yao Cheng and Sun Mu had flickering gazes, knowing full well this was a battle of patience.
Old Man Han would not pledge loyalty, but if he could be tied through obligations, through favors, through deals, he would be useful nonetheless.
Grand Elder Mu's voice turned contemplative. "A lone cultivator may walk freely, but there is no such thing as absolute freedom. Without backing, when calamity strikes, who will stand by your side?"
Old Man Han sighed deeply. "The path of righteousness is paved with such good intentions. However, for a man who has tasted the vast skies, is it so easy to settle in a golden cage?"
Yao Cheng laughed heartily, his tone warm. "Then let us not speak of cages. Think of it as cooperation. You remain unbound. And all we ask is a fraction of your knowledge in exchange for resources, respect, and protection. A fair trade between equals."
Sun Mu nodded. "And a necessary one. The puppet path is a treasure many would kill for. Left alone, it becomes bait. With our sect as your shield, your Dao will survive long after you have withdrawn from the world."
Old Man Han narrowed his eyes. He was acutely aware of their thoughts.
Still, he nodded thoughtfully. "Mm. Teaching a technique or two. That may be something worth considering…. for the right price."
Yao Cheng and Sun Mu exchanged a glance from the corners of their eyes. Both could see it. This old fox before them was weighing his options, playing them both. But neither rushed to press further.
After a long stretching silence, Grand Elder Yao Cheng finally spoke. "If you would consider a formal alliance, we are prepared to negotiate access to our Spirit Metal Furnace and Extreme Copper Threads."
Sun Mu replied calmly, "The Thousand Arms Library contains nine lost puppet blueprints. In exchange for three techniques and one Purple Rank mechanism of your design, we are willing to transcribe any five copies for your exclusive use."
Old Man Han smiled, neither agreeing nor refusing. "Both offers have merit. The Copper Moon Sect's materials are rare. The Sun Sealing Sect's heritage is deep. Choosing one feels like cutting off the other arm. Why not make use of both?"
Yao Cheng's eyes sharpened. "To split your Dao across two houses is to invite confusion. Better to anchor with one and flourish."
Old Man Han spoke lazily. "Balance is the nature of puppetry. A single string may control a limb, but a thousand strings grant mastery. There is wisdom in walking between sects."
Hearing this, Sun Mu closed his eyes and chuckled. "Daoist Han, you are truly cunning. And I, an old man, find myself quite entertained. But I firmly agree with Elder Cheng on this matter, and hence I ask Master Han to do business with my Sun Sealing Sect."
Before Elder Cheng or Old Man Han could utter a word in response, a devastating force slammed into the copper spear with earth-shaking might!
BOOM–!!!
The three elders rose at once, expressions sharpening with alertness. Peering beyond the copper walls, their eyes were drawn to a figure suspended in the night sky.
The lone figure looked more corpse than man. His skin clung tightly to bone, every vein visible like blackened roots. Sunken eyes burned with a cruel crimson light, and his long blood-colored robes fluttered like the wings of a vulture in the night wind. Killing intent rolled off him in waves, cold, callous, and steeped in such deep hatred that it made the soul tremble.
Yao Cheng staggered a step back, his bronze-hardened skin paling. "That… that's impossible."
Sun Mu's expression was grim, the jade fan cracking in his grip. "Not even the Nine Ancient Flames could erase him completely?"
Old Man Han's gaze grew narrow as a blade. Without a word, he quietly retreated three steps.
"You thought I was dead?" The intruder stretched out his index finger, pointing at the two elders like an accusing spear.
The figure's voice rang through the heavens, cold and bitter.
"You destroyed my sect. Slaughtered my disciples. And now, you dare to scavenge what remains of the Scarlet Bone Demonic Sect?"
"Heh…"
A low laugh, hoarse and corpse-like, echoed through the night wind.
"How laughable."
"The Scarlet Bone Demonic Sect has not perished!"
"I am Xue Yanmo, the Third Generation Patriarch."
"My Dao is hatred. My vow is vengeance."
"Tonight, the price shall be paid in flesh. Not one soul beneath this sky shall leave alive!"