Starting Cultivation During a Trip

”Fifteen bucks? Damn, even if I sold it as scrap, it’d go for more than that!”

”Hahaha, that’s a price that’ll choke you!” Fang Changle burst out laughing.

”Old man, you selling or not?”

”No, kid, look at the casing, the patina, how old this thing is... fifteen? What are you thinking?” The drunk-nosed geezer got anxious, snatching the fragment from Zhang Fan’s hand.

”Fine, forget it then.”

Zhang Fan shook his head, leading Fang Changle away from the old man’s stall.

”Kid, go a little higher... a hundred thousand... eighty thousand... sixty thousand...”

The old guy kept lowering the price behind them, but Zhang Fan didn’t even look back, picking up the pace.

”A hundred and fifty! Take it and go.”

The old man gritted his teeth, stomped his foot, and made up his mind.

”Deal!”

Zhang Fan shot back like a ghost, swooping in on the stall and grabbed that metal fragment straight out of the old man’s hand.

”Kid, you’re even meaner than this old man.” The drunk-nosed geezer glared at Zhang Fan, gnashing his teeth.

”Heh, just learning from the best, senior.”

”Scan to pay!”

The old man snorted and flashed his QR code.

Beep...

”You’ve received 150 bucks in your TrustPay account...”

With that loud notification sound, the deal was done.

”Kid, good luck out there.” The old man squeezed out, biting down on his molars.

”Wishing you booming business, Grandpa.”

Zhang Fan grinned, slipped that so-called ”Magic Sword Fragment” into his pocket.

”What a little shit.”

The drunk-nosed old man narrowed his eyes, watching Zhang Fan’s back disappear into the distance, mumbling to himself.

Zhang Fan pocketed the fragment, gripped it in his hand—the warm, smooth energy flowing endlessly, making him feel insanely comfortable, like he’d just gotten a $498 all-natural foot massage that sent tingles all over, like his meridians just got unblocked.

”Why the hell did you buy that thing? I don’t even think it’s worth 150,” Fang Changle muttered casually.

To him, it was just a busted chunk of metal, some basic fake aging, lousy craftsmanship at that.

”For opening packages.” Zhang Fan said offhandedly.

His eyes swept over the crowd, then landed on Fang Changle.

”You notice anything?”

”Nothing. This was always a needle-in-the-haystack, just hoping to get lucky...”

Suddenly cut short, Fang Changle stopped dead in his tracks, eyes sharp like hooks, locking onto something in the distance.

”Hmm!?”

Zhang Fan paused, following Fang Changle’s gaze. Sure enough, it landed on a certain shop... a shop he’d been to before.

”Insect Treasure!?”

The first time he came to the black market, he was tagging along with Shi Shougong, helping the guy buy a Spiritual Qi Insect.

Zhang Fan remembered that at the time, he and Su Shiyu had waited outside—they didn’t even go in.

Shi Shougong had said, this shop’s owner didn’t like dealing with strangers, only regulars.

”What’s up?”

”That feeling again—the scent I caught from you last time,”

A cold flash passed through Fang Changle’s eyes. He strode up, lifted the curtain, and stepped into [Insect Treasure]. Inside, a strange smell filled the cramped air—the kind of scent only reptile lovers would know well.

”No one’s here...”

”Searched high and low—looks like the old beast lives right here.”

Brilliance flashed in Fang Changle’s eyes as he looked at a mask on the counter—a mask hanging from the shelf, twisted, beast-faced, and filled with wicked, eerie energy.

”Yin Hu is super secretive, really cautious. I joined Wuwei Sect, so technically I was under him, but we’ve only really met three times...” Fang Changle said, voice grave.

”Each time, he was wearing this mask.”

”So the owner here is Yin Hu?” Zhang Fan’s expression tightened. No wonder it was always such a mystery.

Whoosh—

All of a sudden, an outline flashed outside, quick as wind, flicking the curtain up.

”Who’s there?”

”Chase!”

Fang Changle reacted first, leaping out like a thunderbolt after the figure.

Zhang Fan raced behind, spotting a shadowy figure in a black coat, a slick blur darting upstairs.

The guy was fast as a snake, sliding right up the stairwell.

The black market was in an abandoned unfinished building—only the first to seventh floors had shops. The higher you went, the darker it got, no lights, no handrails, a straight-up ”raw cement chic” look everywhere.

”Why’s he running? Yin Hu’s that damn scared?” Zhang Fan followed, unable to help himself.

”What would you do?” Fang Changle shot back, not even turning around.

”Tie up loose ends—that means kill them.”

”Damn, lucky you’re not one of Wuwei Sect’s guys.”

Fang Changle let out a thunderous yell, hands flying through seals—suddenly a jet of True Flame roared out, surging down the dark stairwell like a wild python, lighting up the gloom and engulfing the figure.

RUMBLE—

Next second, clothes burned away, and a naked silhouette dove out, skin dazzlingly white. Even after getting roasted by True Flame, there wasn’t a single burn.

Fang Changle darted in. In the charred remains of the fire, there was a gigantic molted shell, like insect skin peeled off.

”Spirit Cicada Shell...” Fang Changle’s eyes got deadly serious.

Spirit Cicada Shell—now that’s a Daoist Skill from Dian Nan, mixing Gu Skill and Witchcraft. You have to plant a weird bug inside you when you’re little, growing up with it in you.

Once mastered, the bug is like an extra life. Your real body can escape from the molted shell.

That’s the Spirit Cicada Shell technique.

But only one clan in Dian Nan knows how to do this—it’s a secret art.

”Dian Nan Qian Family!? That bastard’s with the Qian Family?” Fang Changle said in a heavy tone.

”Qian Family?”

Zhang Fan was thoughtful. Back on Zhenwu Mountain, at the Jade Scroll Transmission Gathering, those two brothers who released Difficult Insects were from the Dian Nan Qian Family.

”So the bug guy is Yin Hu?” Zhang Fan muttered.

”Haven’t you read Water Margin? Tigers were called ’Big Insects’ in old times.”

Fang Changle gritted his teeth, puffed up his courage, and followed the trail all the way up to the thirteenth floor.

The floor was empty except for a single room. The heavy metal door stood wide open, like it got blasted in with super-strength. Shrill alarms rang out, red warning lights spinning overhead.

”This is a warehouse. Some shop owners stash their goods here.”

Fang Changle looked inside, wary, sneaking in carefully.

”Are we about to get tagged as thieves?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

”Too late to care now,” Fang Changle shook his head. All he cared about was nabbing Yin Hu.

The warehouse was huge, lighting dim, shelves and sealed containers lining the sides.

”Yin Hu, I know you’re in here—come on out!”

Fang Changle shouted, his voice echoing in the empty warehouse, but nothing answered.

”It’s you or me today, one of us dies!” Fang Changle’s shout was even louder.

”So either way, he’s dead?” Zhang Fan whispered from behind.

”This really the time for jokes?” Fang Changle crept ahead, coldly glaring back over his shoulder.

Click—

Just then, the lights in the warehouse flickered on. A lonely bulb hanging from the ceiling cast a sickly yellow glow; still dark, but brighter than before.

A long shadow stretched out, coming from far off.

”Who’s there?”

Zhang Fan and Fang Changle stared, tense, and an all-too-familiar face stepped into the light a second later.

”Brother Hong?” Zhang Fan blurted out when he saw who it was.

”I thought somebody was breaking in!” Hong San said with an easy grin.

”This your warehouse?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

”Yeah. What’re you two doing here...?”

”We know each other...”

Zhang Fan shot Fang Changle a look, then explained to Hong San, ”We ran into an enemy, chased them all the way here.”

”He should still be around.”

”An enemy... You mean him—”

Just then, Hong San pointed, and Zhang Fan followed his finger. In the corner, a naked figure stepped out—it was the Insect Treasure shop owner who’d just run for his life.

”Finally came out,” Fang Changle’s brow curled, eyes shining fiercely.

Crash—

Suddenly, the naked figure melted away, turning into a sheet of skin like rotten mud, splatting on the ground.

A wisp of light shot out—almost like an out-of-body soul—riding a cold wind, rushing straight for Hong San.

”Relax. That’s just a Chong Ghost I keep. Didn’t freak you out, did I?”

Hong San chuckled, opened his mouth, and swallowed the wind in one gulp. His throat wriggled, gurgling, and a look of bliss spread across his face.

”Hong San, you...” Zhang Fan’s gaze focused razor-sharp, as if he’d figured something out.

Fang Changle was flat-out on guard.

”Allow me to properly introduce myself.”

Hong San licked his lips, smiling with satisfaction.

”I am...”

”Tiger Hong Mountain Monarch!!”