Chapter 13: The Market of Shadows and the Logic Trap
The Market of a Thousand Wonders was a sprawling labyrinth of ivory stalls and floating merchant carpets, situated at the edge of the mercury lake. It was here that the Sage Continent's "Knowledge Hunger" was most visible. Rare jade slips, bottled monster souls, and rusted artifacts from the Dark Realms were traded for mountains of Spirit Essence Stones.
Tian Mo walked through the crowded aisles, his white robes a stark contrast to the gritty, chaotic energy of the marketplace. Behind him, Li Feng and Princess Ling'er moved with a newfound alertness. Even without the Divine Library's Active Scan, Tian Mo could feel the "Static" in the air—the subtle vibration of killing intent that followed them from the shadows of the Exam Hall.
[System Status: Sleep Mode — Optimization 18%...]
The golden windows remained shut, but the data Tian Mo had "eaten" over the past few months was swirling in his subconscious. He didn't need the system to tell him that he was being hunted; he could see the flaws in the crowd's movement. Three men in gray robes, their Qi suppressed to the point of invisibility, were closing in.
"Master, they are moving into a 'Tri-Point Pincer'," Li Feng whispered, his hand resting on the hilt of his concealed dagger.
"I know," Tian Mo replied, his voice calm, almost melodic. "But a hunter is only dangerous when he knows the terrain. Let's change the landscape."
Tian Mo stopped at a dilapidated stall run by a hunched-over old man. The stall was filled with "Trash" items—broken formation flags, cracked alchemy furnaces, and dried-up herbs.
The Art of the Appraiser
Tian Mo didn't look at the expensive treasures in the neighboring stalls. His hand reached out and picked up a rusted iron rod and a bag of Sulfuric Sand.
"How much?" Tian Mo asked.
The old man squinted. "Five Low-Grade Stones. It's junk, kid. Why bother?"
"Junk to a blind man is a weapon to a Sage," Tian Mo said, tossing a Mid-Grade stone onto the counter.
He moved to the next stall, an Apothecary's waste bin. He bought a bottle of Bitter-Root Oil and a handful of Silver-Needle Grass. To the assassins watching him, it looked like a desperate man buying random supplies.
He's lost his mind, the Void-Seeker in gray thought, watching from behind a silk-weaver's loom. The 'Perfect Scholar' is buying garbage. Kill him now.
But Tian Mo was already moving. He led his students into a narrow, dead-end alleyway behind a warehouse of Spirit Wood.
"Master, this is a dead end," Ling'er whispered, her Lightning Lizard, Xiao Lei, crackling with nervous energy.
"For them, it is a grave," Tian Mo said.
With the speed of a 7-Star Physician, he began coating the rusted iron rod with the Bitter-Root Oil. He threw the Sulfuric Sand into the air, using a specific Formation Master rhythm to keep the particles suspended in the humid evening mist.
The Logic of the Kill
The three gray-robed assassins materialized at the entrance of the alley. They didn't speak. They didn't boast. They simply drew their Void-Steel Daggers, which hummed with a soul-eroding frequency.
"Tian Mo," the lead assassin said, his voice echoing with a demonic rasp. "The Weaver does not allow anomalies to exist. Your 'Perfect Logic' ends here."
Tian Mo stood at the end of the alley, the rusted rod in his hand. "You rely on the 'Void Step' to bypass physical defenses. You think because you are 'nothing,' I cannot strike you."
Tian Mo struck the rusted rod against the stone wall.
SPARK.
The tiny flame hit the suspended Sulfuric Sand and the Bitter-Root Oil.
[Physician Logic: Chemical Resonance.]
Instead of a massive explosion, the alley was suddenly filled with a dense, heavy yellow mist. It wasn't poisonous to humans, but it had a very specific property: it was High-Density Spirit Conductive Gas.
The assassins tried to use their 'Void Step' to phase through the walls. But the moment they turned their bodies into energy, the yellow mist reacted.
"AAAGH!"
The lead assassin screamed as his body partially fused with the sulfuric mist. Because his "Void Form" was an energy state, he had become a conductor. He was no longer "nothing"—he was now a physical part of the mist.
"Li Feng, Ling'er, now!" Tian Mo commanded.
Li Feng lunged forward, his spear glowing with the golden heat of the Solar Flare. Because the mist was conductive, his spear's heat was amplified ten times. He didn't even have to hit the assassins; he just had to thrust into the mist, and the heat traveled through the gas like an electric current.
BZZZT—!
The second assassin was cooked from the inside out, his demonic Qi exploding in a violet burst.
Ling'er followed, her Lightning Lizard releasing a massive discharge. The electricity hit the silver-needle grass Tian Mo had scattered on the floor. The needles acted as a Faraday Cage, trapping the lightning within the alley and bouncing it between the walls.
The third assassin was trapped in a web of blue bolts. He looked at Tian Mo, his face twisted in a mask of agony. "How... how did you know the frequency of our Void State?"
Tian Mo walked through the lightning, his white robes untouched by the sparks. He stopped in front of the dying Void-Seeker.
"I didn't need a system to know your flaws," Tian Mo said, his voice cold and absolute. "The 'Void Step' has a resonance frequency of 440Hz. The Bitter-Root Oil vibrates at 441Hz. The 'Beat Frequency' shattered your internal Qi-logic before my students even moved. It wasn't a fight. It was a Correction."
The Uninvited Guest: Wife 1 Returns
As the last assassin dissolved into ash, a powerful, dominating aura descended from the rooftops. The yellow mist was instantly blown away by a gust of crimson wind.
A woman landed at the entrance of the alley. She was tall, her eyes burning with a regal fire, and her aura was so intense that even the ground seemed to tremble beneath her boots.
Queen Zhao Yan.
"You're late," Tian Mo said, not even turning around.
"And you're as arrogant as ever," Zhao Yan replied, her sword—the Crimson Rose—still sheathed but humming with Saint-level power. "I followed the trail of your 'miracles' from the port. I see the Demonic Tribe has already found you."
Zhao Yan walked toward him, her armor clanking softly. She looked at the charred remains of the assassins and then at Tian Mo. "The Sage Pavilion is a den of snakes, Tian Mo. They have already assigned you to the 'Lost Library' of the West Wing. They want to bury you under dusty scrolls while they plot your 'accidental' death."
Tian Mo finally turned, his handsome face softening just a fraction. "Let them. The 'Lost Library' is exactly what I need. My system is hungry, Zhao Yan, and the Sage Continent has the biggest buffet in the multiverse."
Zhao Yan stepped closer, her dominating aura clashing with Tian Mo's calm one. "I didn't come here to be your guard. I came because the Hung Kingdom is being threatened. The Otherworldly Demonic Tribe is gathering at the border. They want the 'Anomaly' that broke their siphon."
Tian Mo looked at the moon. "They want the Master? Then they shall have him. But first," he turned to Janitor Lu, who was hiding behind a spirit-wood crate, "Lu, go to the West Wing. Tell the Pavilion Elders that Tian Mo accepts the post of 'Head Librarian' of the Lost Library."
The Path of the Sovereign
As they walked back toward the Pavilion HQ, the news of the alleyway "incident" began to whisper through the city. Tian Mo wasn't just a scholar anymore; he was a warrior who could turn garbage into a God-tier trap.
Tian Mo looked at his wives and his students. His system was still asleep, but he felt a strange sense of freedom. He was no longer relying on the gold-rimmed windows of the Divine Library. He was becoming the Library himself.
"Master," Ling'er asked, "what is in the Lost Library?"
"Fifty thousand years of 'Errors'," Tian Mo replied, his eyes glowing with a predatory thirst for knowledge. "And once I scan them all... the Sage Continent will finally understand why I am called The Sovereign."
The stage was set. In the next chapter, Tian Mo would enter the most dangerous library in the world—a place where the books were alive, the ink was poisonous, and the knowledge was enough to topple empires.