Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Ginseng Fruit

"I would be honored," Lu Qian replied.

Newly arrived, Lu Qian needed to exchange some supplies as well—furnaces for crafting, lead and mercury for alchemy, cinnabar, gold, silver, nitre, and more. Bringing such items from the temple was inconvenient.

"Follow me," Li Yutong said, turning away. He stepped into the shadowed mist.

Lu Qian instructed the sisters to wait for him at the inn, then followed Li Yutong into the fog.

The moment he entered, the scene was cast in a faint green hue. What had been a bustling restaurant now transformed into a long, deep alley. The sky glowed an eerie green, the street was pitch black, and at the alley's end rose a five-story stilted building of golden nanmu wood. Red lanterns hung from its eaves, bathing the vermillion gate in crimson light, as if a giant beast had thrown wide its jaws. It stood solitary at the alley's end, seeming as ancient as the dawn of time.

Li Yutong, slight and thin, waited at the entrance.

Suddenly, a shadow swept down. A green-eyed owl descended from the sky, its sharp claws gripping the wall, and it spoke in a shrill, elderly voice, "Young master, is there a guest today? Should I have Steward Tang prepare?"

"Go on," Li Yutong waved him away.

He led Lu Qian through the alley. Lu Qian, puzzled, glanced around. Moments ago, he'd stepped into the black mist, and the scenery had changed so completely. Was this some spell of shifting forms? He doubted it. That kind of art, which could make distances seem vast, consumed too much energy to be used merely as an entrance. It must be a concealment spell.

Lu Qian recalled a passage from an ancient book. In ages past, humans and monsters lived together, but to avoid conflict, the monsters dwelled on a hidden street within the city, unseen by ordinary folk. This street was known as Ghost Lane. Only those invited could enter.

Beside the stilted building stood a massive banyan tree. Its shade stretched for miles, roots as thick as bowls dangled down, their twisted skin resembling human faces. Upon closer inspection, dozens of brown, oval objects were tied to the roots.

Seeing Lu Qian's curiosity, Li Yutong led him closer. "This is the ginseng fruit tree. Each year, on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, its fruits are delivered to the sect."

Lu Qian approached. The oval objects were yellow amber, inside which three-foot-tall children were sealed. Their eyes shut tight, features lifelike, their age similar to Li Yutong's. Beneath the tree, neat rows of black jars were arranged, each marked with names and birth dates in black ink.

"The ginseng fruits above are used for alchemy and as materials for Golden Boys and Jade Maidens. Below are souls," Li Yutong explained. His father was a purchasing steward in the temple, and their family managed properties for the Tongyou Temple here. Some corpses and spirit children’s souls for the temple were supplied by Yellow Dragon City.

Lu Qian smiled but said nothing. He suspected most of these children had dubious origins. The city’s surface was prosperous, but beneath it, filth was concealed. Lu Qian gained a clearer understanding of Tongyou Temple's true strength—it was not merely supporting subordinate forces. The temple’s experts had branched out, founding families that served its interests. What appeared to be a small sect of a thousand was, with its outer forces and these families, likely ten times that number.

Passing through the black mist, the two arrived before the stilted building adorned with eerie red lanterns.

Creak!

The grand door slowly opened, and a large, round, black jar rolled out. From its mouth extended the head of an old man, pale-faced and beardless, with two small braids and a handlebar moustache. Four limbs protruded from the jar’s rim.

"Young master, honored guest, please come in."

The door opened automatically. The jar-man was the Li family's steward, known as Steward Tang.

Inside, the child that Li Yutong possessed suddenly halted. As Lu Qian wondered, a Daoist in blue robes approached. He appeared in his early thirties, his complexion ghostly pale, veins faintly visible, as if he hadn't seen sunlight in decades.

"Greetings, Brother Yutong," Lu Qian immediately guessed his identity.

"No need for formality. Brother Zhijian, are you here on a mission?"

"Yes, I am merely passing through," Lu Qian replied, revealing nothing of his true purpose.

The other man did not press further; rarely did anyone ask about another’s mission.

They sat down to eat. The dishes were not as bizarre as expected, just ordinary food. Steward Tang’s culinary skills surpassed even the cooks in the main house.

"Honestly, I only met you once before. I didn’t expect you to advance to Qi cultivation so quickly," Li Yutong sighed. Back then, he’d only befriended those ranked in the A and B classes among the temple’s novices. The rest were considered mere fillers by the sect. Who would have thought such a dark horse would emerge?

"Pure luck," Lu Qian replied.

If Li Yutong knew he was already in the late stages of Qi cultivation, his jaw might well drop in astonishment.

For those of average talent, it took decades of gradual effort to master the techniques. Even Li Yutong, with his privileged background, had spent over fifty years, and still the realm of spirit cultivation was far off.

After their meal, they exchanged paper crane contacts. Li Yutong offered to escort Lu Qian to the Ghost Market, but Lu Qian politely declined.

"This is a pass for the Ghost Market," Li Yutong handed him a peachwood talisman.

After a brief conversation, Lu Qian took his leave, having gained a general understanding of the situation.

Cultivation families were not composed entirely of cultivators. From what he learned, the Li family had a single spirit cultivator as patriarch, three sons at the Qi stage, and over a dozen loyal servants at the embryonic breath stage. The rest were ordinary people. Even so, for a city, such a family was a dominating force, able to decide the fate of tens of thousands at will. The thrill of such power was unimaginable to most. For example, Xuan Xiao was an anonymous figure in Tongyou Temple, constantly at risk; here, he was exalted, surrounded by beauties even in his eighties. No wonder some cultivators abandoned advancement to become petty overlords among mortals.

Lu Qian arrived at a dead-end alley. On both sides were lively restaurants, yet this spot was deserted.

He walked up to the wall and murmured an incantation:

"Heaven clear, spirit pure; earth clear, spirit pure; reveal the true form!"

Suddenly, a ghostly market shrouded in mist appeared before him. Hooded vendors in black robes lined both sides. The stalls and shops mostly sold corpses, spirits, paper offerings, and other items for ghost cultivation. Patrols of white-robed ghosts maintained order.

Lu Qian approached a stall. The sign read: "Green-scaled Leopard Blood," "Red Dragon Steed Blood," "Human-headed Demon Eagle Blood," "Spirit Fox Blood," "Black-armored Water Python."

"Shopkeeper, I’ll take one of each," Lu Qian said.

The masked vendor looked up. "Fifty legal coins each."

"Deal!"

These weren't beasts from the Celestial and Earthly Stars rankings, but each had rare abilities, making their blood ideal for ink used in talisman crafting. Yet this time, Lu Qian had another purpose.

He continued browsing. Some sold corpses, some live people, others human body parts.

"Come and see! Freshly captured martial artists, all sturdy and strong—perfect material for corpse refining! Buy now, you won’t regret it!"

In a large iron cage to his right, more than twenty people lay weakly on the ground, their bodies robust, temples bulging, all but powerless now.