Lin Mu didn't respond, nor did he let the other man's presence intimidate him.
He pulled out the cloth-wrapped bundle from his shirt, unwrapped it with slow, deliberate movements, then slammed the black, charcoal-like beetle—still radiating alarming heat—onto the counter.
Tsssss—
A wisp of smoke rose instantly. The worn hardwood counter, weathered by countless years of use, blackened and scorched on contact, releasing a sound that set teeth on edge.
A wave of heat rolled outward, driving away the shop's damp, moldy chill.
"Rank 1 Peak. Charcoal Stone Gu."
Old Ma's eyelid twitched. Those half-lidded eyes snapped open, all cloudiness gone, replaced by two sharp points of light.
He knew quality when he saw it. One glance told him everything: shell intact, fire essence dense and restrained. A rare find among combat Gu.
But the flash of surprise lasted only an instant before his face settled back into that corpse-like apathy. He even waved his rag at the rising smoke with an air of distaste.
"Good stuff, sure. Shame it's a hot potato."
Old Ma extended a withered finger and pointed at the Charcoal Stone Gu without touching it, picking it apart: "Dual Fire and Earth cultivation requirements, violent will. Most Rank 1 Gu Masters can't refine it at all—try and you might blow out your Aperture."
"Buyer would need to spend big money getting someone to cleanse and temper its will... Plus this thing's got dirty origins, yeah? Black market goods. Hard to move."
He glanced at Lin Mu and held up three fingers. His tone left no room for negotiation.
"Final offer. Three hundred Primeval Stones."
Three hundred. That price cut the market value by more than half. This wasn't bargaining—it was robbery.
Lin Mu heard the number and, rather than anger, let out a cold laugh. Filtered through his deliberately roughened voice, it sounded especially grating.
"Old Ma. Don't mistake me for a greenhorn."
His eyes turned cold, locking onto the old man's gaze.
"Three hundred? Save it for your coffin."
He reached out to take back the Charcoal Stone Gu, movements decisive, without a hint of hesitation.
"Maybe this is hard to sell elsewhere, but over at White Bone Stockade? The bone-refiners there would kill for it. Fire tempers bone, Earth strengthens the body—with this, their success rate jumps by at least thirty percent."
"If I'm willing to trek a few dozen extra miles through the mountains and hit White Bone Stockade's black market, they'll be fighting to pay five hundred."
He grabbed the Gu, turned, and walked toward the door. Long strides. As if he'd be through the threshold in the next heartbeat.
A psychological gamble. He was betting Old Ma wouldn't let this fat profit of two or three hundred stones slip away.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
His hand touched the rough wood grain of the door. Behind him—silence.
Lin Mu's heart sank. Old Ma hadn't stopped him?
He deliberately slowed his pace but still heard no attempt to call him back. If he walked out now, his only options were the dangerous White Bone Stockade or crawling back to accept Old Ma's price. Either way, he lost.
Just as he was trapped between choices, about to grit his teeth and push through the door, Old Ma's leisurely voice finally came from behind, laced with mocking amusement.
"Easy there, young man. No need to rush off."
Lin Mu stopped. Didn't turn around. His back stayed rigid as he forced down the panic rising in his chest, keeping his voice cold and hard. "What? Ready to raise your offer?"
"No need for that."
Old Ma let out a derisive snort, tapping his finger against the counter. His voice dripped with the certainty of someone who saw through everything.
"White Bone Stockade's black market is in the No-Man's Gulch, right on the border between Black Blood and White Bone territory. That place makes Grey Street look orderly."
"With those wounds of yours, you've got maybe thirty percent of your strength left. Think you'd make it?"
He paused, then delivered the killing blow. "In all of Black Wind Ridge's outer regions, only Gelded Ma here dares to take in untraceable Peak-Grade Gu. You want to walk? I won't stop you."
"Just... my little shop here, lots of eyes and ears. Whether this honored guest shows up again next time—well, who can say?"
A chill ran down Lin Mu's spine. Old Ma had seen through everything—his circumstances, his bluff.
He stood silent for a moment, then slowly turned. The cold mask fell away, leaving only the sullen look of forced acceptance. In the end, he'd lost to experience and circumstance.
Old Ma watched, dropped the mockery, and put on his "taking a loss" expression again.
He held up four fingers, then bent one halfway down. "Four hundred. Take it and walk, or take your chances outside. Your choice."
Four hundred.
Still below fair price for a Peak-Grade Rank 1 combat Gu, but Lin Mu understood—Old Ma's sob story was half fiction. Laundering costs weren't that high. The old bastard would clear at least a hundred and fifty in profit.
But he had no choice. His weakened body, the lack of any other buyer—all of it forced his hand.
He clenched the Charcoal Stone Gu, then slammed it down on the counter.
"Deal."
A glint of triumph flashed in Old Ma's eyes, though his face stayed pained as he slowly counted out the stones.
Lin Mu pressed his hand over the money pouch. "Too heavy to carry all this. Give me a hundred in cash for working capital. The rest... I'll trade for goods."
Walking around with several hundred Primeval Stones was asking to die.
Converting wealth into immediate combat power—that was the smart play.
Old Ma wasn't surprised. He actually preferred this kind of deal; selling goods meant another layer of profit.
"What do you want? This old man's shop may look shabby, but the stock's decent enough."
"Fifty stones worth of Crimson Iron Sand. The high-grade stuff with residual fire toxin still in it." Food for advancing the Red Mud Gu.
"Ten stones of Iron Essence Flakes." A whetstone for the Iron Leaf Gu.
"And another jar of Rot Poison Water."
"The rest..." Lin Mu paused, his gaze sweeping across the bottles and jars crowding the shelves behind the counter. Finally, he looked at Old Ma. "Got any suitable Gu?"
Old Ma bared a mouthful of yellow teeth and pulled three bloodstained wooden boxes from a hidden compartment beneath the counter, lining them up.
"Judging by all that blood on you, looking to walk the Blood Path? Good timing. Few days back, some unlucky Blood Path rogue cultivator died outside. I harvested his Aperture. Picked these out of his stash."
He pointed to the first box. "Blood Net Gu. Control type. Spits out a net condensed from blood, traps enemies. Pairs well with your Red Mud's slowdown effect. Downside: expensive, and burns through Primeval Essence fast."
"Second one. Blood Arrow Gu. Consumes your own blood to fire blood arrows. Decent power, covers your ranged weakness. But with your current condition... I don't think you can afford the drain."
Finally, Old Ma's finger stopped on the third box. A strange gleam flickered in his eyes.
"Third one. Blood Scent Gu. Reconnaissance type. This thing... can smell strong blood within a five-hundred-meter radius. Wounded enemies can't hide from it."
"Drawback: depends on wind direction, and it's useless against anyone with scent-masking techniques."
Lin Mu's gaze moved between the three boxes.
Blood Net drained essence. Blood Arrow drained blood. For someone already low on Primeval Essence with an unremarkable body, both were burdens. Only the Blood Scent Gu made sense.
He thought of the "Crimson Mist Deadlands" mentioned in that old book. Thought of Black Wind Ridge's treacherous terrain. In places where vision failed, smell often proved more reliable than sight.
And as a hunter, information superiority always came first.
"I'll take this one. The Blood Scent Gu."
Lin Mu made his decision.
Moments later, the transaction was complete.
Lin Mu left with a hundred and fifty Primeval Stones in his shirt, a red ant-shaped Blood Scent Gu newly settled in his Aperture, and a pack full of Crimson Iron Sand and Iron Essence Flakes on his back.
His combat deficiencies—addressed.
"Take care, young friend."
Old Ma pocketed the scorching Charcoal Stone Gu, pleased with himself. A heh-heh laugh, then a meaningful warning: "Turn left outside. Don't look back. The wind's blowing strong on Grey Street today."
Lin Mu's heart tightened. He nodded, pulled his bamboo hat low, and stepped out of the shop.
He hadn't gone far when a violent commotion erupted near the market exit.
A hulking Demonic Path Gu Master with a brutal, scarred face—apparently caught selling counterfeits when a buyer exposed him on the spot—had flown into a rage and injured someone.
Now, banking on his Rank 2 Wind Path cultivation, he was trying to force his way through the checkpoint and escape.
"That's 'Flying Legs' Zhang San! Rank 2 Wind Path—fast as hell!" someone nearby whispered in alarm.
Just as Zhang San was about to vault over the wooden barrier—
From a window in that grim stone tower at the market's center, an eerie red glow suddenly flared to life.
The light rippled outward like water, sweeping across Zhang San's body in an instant.
The scene froze.
Zhang San, mid-leap, went rigid.
Then his blood seemed to boil. His skin bulged with swelling lumps, rising and falling across his body. And then—
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
Countless blood arrows burst through his pores, spraying outward.
In the blink of an eye, the entire body shriveled into a desiccated husk, hit the ground with a dry crack, and shattered into pieces.
Blood Path Killer Move—Boiling Blood Burst.
Dead silence all around. No one screamed. No one ran.
A moment later, everyone went back to haggling with lowered heads, as if nothing had happened. A few people walked over with practiced ease to drag away the dried corpse and clean up the blood.
Lin Mu stood frozen, cold sweat seeping down his back.
This was Grey Street's law. This was power.
He pulled his bamboo hat lower and quickened his pace, melting into the crowd.
But he didn't head straight back to the safehouse.
After leaving the market, he lingered at a few lone cultivator stalls on the outskirts. To anyone watching, he seemed to be browsing idly. In truth, his ears never stopped scanning his surroundings.
"The edges of Grey Street have been dangerous lately. Some unfamiliar faces have been targeting newcomers who wander off alone..."
"Did you hear? White Bone Stockade is paying top price for beast hides..."
From these scattered fragments, Lin Mu confirmed once again just how complex the situation was.
Half an hour later, he slipped quietly away from Grey Street and ducked into a miasma forest on the outskirts of Black Wind Ridge.
The moment he entered the trees, his newly refined Blood Scent Gu sent a faint but unmistakable tremor.
A distinctive smell of blood—mixed with some cheap hemostatic herb—had been trailing roughly two hundred meters behind him.
"So that's how it is."
Lin Mu understood immediately: "This person has old wounds, or just came out of a fight. No wonder Blood Scent Gu can lock onto him from this distance."
"Did Old Ma sell my information? Or did I attract attention when I flashed wealth at the shop?"
It didn't matter who. The stalker clearly saw him as a fat lamb fresh from the pen.
Based on the scent intensity the Blood Scent Gu was feeding back, his pursuer was approximately Rank 1 Upper Stage.
The blood vitality wasn't particularly robust—definitely not a Strength Path Gu Master built for head-on confrontation. More likely an agility-type lone cultivator who relied on speed and ambush.
"Greedy, but cautious. Doesn't dare make a move near the market—afraid of breaking the rules and getting killed by the chief. Doesn't dare follow too close either—afraid I'll notice."
A cruel arc tugged at Lin Mu's lips.
"Since you want to eat me, let's see if you have the teeth for it."
He didn't speed up to flee. Instead, he slowed his pace slightly and walked deeper into the forest—where the miasma grew thicker and the terrain more treacherous.