Chapter Sixty-Five: Blood-Marked Dao Soldiers

A single transaction amounted to a hundred merit points—equivalent to the cost of a lower-grade cave dwelling. The two people beside him watched with envy in their eyes.

To this day, neither of them even owned a single cave residence. Even Yu Ci, a prodigy from the Institute of Talismans and Formations, had only managed to save up thirty percent of the required merit points, planning to apply for a loan and move in another day. There was just no helping it—there always seemed to be strange reasons to spend money. Last time he was injured, nearly all his possessions had been spent on recovery.

Still, envy was one thing, but if they were asked to concoct medicines themselves, it would truly be beyond them. After all, the young man before them was already a mid-grade apothecary—a genius in the art.

At this moment, Yu Ci said suddenly, “By the way, Lu Qian, I have news about what you asked me to look into.”

“Oh?” Lu Qian was clearly interested, immediately pricking up his ears.

“The Hall of Enforcement just happens to have a long-term assignment, lasting two years. I think it should suit you well.” Yu Ci handed over a slip of paper.

On it was written the mission information.

The task was located three thousand miles away, in one of the most remote places imaginable. A city named Tongquan—with no particular resources, it had never caught the attention of the Profound Serenity Temple. In recent years, however, the area had become shrouded in intense yin energy, prompting the temple to send someone to investigate. If profit could be found, it might be annexed by the sect.

“Thank you,” Lu Qian said as he accepted the paper.

After chatting a while longer, the group bid each other farewell.

Passing through a gloomy forest shrouded in thick, dark clouds and mist, they finally arrived. Deep within the swirling haze, a massive archway stood sentinel, inscribed in bold, sweeping calligraphy: Ghost Market of Profound Serenity.

The moment he entered, Lu Qian was surrounded by a throng of shadowy figures—ghosts, green corpses, golden children… In this place, ordinary humans seemed the true oddities.

Lu Qian wore a black robe, his body that of a paper effigy—he hardly looked much better than the strange denizens.

“Nether Purpleleaf Flower! Green Serpent Fruit! Fresh from the Netherworld!” squawked a mynah bird, while the black-clad stall owner dozed beside it.

At another stall, a sign read “Corrosive Bone Golden Flame.” Upon the table sat a golden oil lamp. Normally, gold symbolized brilliance, but this flame exuded nothing but chilling dread.

As Lu Qian had suspected, the variety of goods in the Ghost Market had increased tenfold compared to previous times. The sheer range was dazzling—exotic beasts were for sale, and some stalls even hung bloody corpses for direct purchase.

There were also swindlers, like the old man selling maps to the remains of ancient True Immortals or secret techniques in archaic scripts—the ink hadn’t even dried, likely only fooling those foolish enough to dream of miraculous finds.

In one corner stood a black iron cage.

Inside were two prisoners. Their build and complexion were almost human, but their eyes were especially striking—they were “Bulging-Eyed People,” with eyes protruding like those of a crab. When their gaze met another’s, they immediately shrank back in fright.

Lu Qian glanced at the price—fifty merit points each, rather steep. These people were long-lived, at least three centuries by default, and their eyes could see a thousand miles. Many alchemists bought them to study the secret of their longevity, and their eyes could be used as ingredients to enhance vision.

Of course, none of this was Lu Qian’s concern—he was merely a bystander. His purpose today was to seek out artifact-refining techniques or secret formulas for repairing magical implements.

At last, he found what he sought at a particular stall.

“Secret Blood-Refining Technique for Artifact Servants of Seven Martial Mountain” and “Basic Restrictions of Artifact Refinement by Master Lengjing of Seven Martial Mountain”—both with tedious, pompous titles, and neither available for copying, only sold as single, original copies.

The stall owner was a young Daoist with a scholar’s cap, looking not much older than a youth.

Lu Qian checked the price—it required a magical implement for exchange, merit points not accepted.

“What is ‘Blood-Refining for Artifact Servants’?” Lu Qian inquired.

“It’s a unique weapon-nurturing method from Seven Martial Mountain. One hides the magical implement inside the human body, nurturing and repairing it from within,” the Daoist replied.

Lu Qian recalled that Ji Kong did indeed have two attendants known as Artifact Servants.

“Can I exchange my Seven-Kill Shadow Talisman Sword?” Lu Qian produced a sword hilt.

The Daoist’s eyes lit up as he took it. Injecting his true qi, a blue radiance shot forth, the chilling aura hard to miss.

“A seven-layered Shadow Talisman Sword is indeed rare, but it’s not a true magical implement. Add fifty merit points.”

After some bargaining, they finally settled on one Seven-Kill Shadow Talisman Sword plus thirty-five merit points.

Having acquired the desired artifact-refining technique, Lu Qian wandered the market a bit more.

“Wait, fellow Daoist, a moment!” Suddenly, the Daoist from before hurried after him.

“What is it?” Lu Qian frowned slightly.

The Daoist smiled apologetically. “Forgive my intrusion, but I have here a method for crafting Blood-Imprint Dao Soldiers. Might you be interested?”

“Oh?” At this, Lu Qian’s interest was piqued.

Dao Soldiers were a kind of magical guardian forged by Daoists through various means, often used to guard cave dwellings. Their types varied—some were from unique races, others crafted from spells, or summoned as phantoms. Although Dao Soldiers could wield magic, they were not cultivators; their strength lay in their numbers and standardization.

There were Dao Soldiers within the Profound Serenity Temple as well: the Skyborne Cold Crow Soldiers, who harbored a core of freezing yin flame and could kill with a breath; the Mountain-Patrolling Yin Soldiers, the Guiding Envoys, and many more.

One would expect such techniques to be in high demand. The Daoist handed over a manual: “Secret Blood-Imprint Dao Soldier Technique.”

Lu Qian read it over and understood why it was unsought. The method imitated body cultivation by implanting beast bloodlines into ordinary people, thereby granting them special abilities. It involved complex alchemical processes of considerable difficulty.

More importantly, the technique was mere conjecture. The creator admitted to lacking alchemical skill and had never succeeded—though, in theory, it was feasible.

“You want sixty merit points for this?” Lu Qian shot him a glance.

The Daoist coughed awkwardly, embarrassment on his face. “It’s a Dao Soldier forging method—sixty is already cheap.”

Lu Qian said nothing, simply staring at him.

“Fifty? Forty? …Fine, take it for fifteen, consider it a gesture of friendship. My name is Jiang Chenglu, Daoist name Jade Lu. And you?”

Jiang Chenglu waved irritably.

“My surname is Lu, given name Qian, Daoist name Zhiqian.” Lu Qian bowed in return, then drew a talisman to transfer the merit points.

The two exchanged messenger paper cranes and took their leave.

With a good number of merit points left, Lu Qian bought a batch of medicinal ingredients and supplies before leaving the Ghost Market—enjoying, for once, the feeling of wealth. Afterwards, he visited the public hall to exchange for spells related to Yin Sunflower True Water.

The techniques he acquired today would suffice for years of cultivation.

Only after all this did he return to his cave dwelling.

Seven days later.

Within Hidden Dragon Cave, the Daoist sat cross-legged in meditation.

Suddenly, Lu Qian’s eyes shot open, a cold gleam flashing within.

He flew swiftly out of his cave.

Boom!

The sky darkened, black clouds pressing down upon the city.

Rushing rain fell in sharp, icy torrents.

The rain was inky black, as if dipped in dye.

Wherever it touched—the flowers, the trees, all withered; the birds and beasts, nothing left but bone.