The Cultivation Market
After they had driven off the Cheongrimdo, no further trouble found them. The bandits had only been able to run wild and extort passage fees in the first place because those outer fringes fell under no sect’s jurisdiction. The deeper they pressed into So-ui-ju, the more ancient and well-rooted cultivation sects dotted the land, leaving no room for such ruffians to strut about.
“What?”
Baekri-wan snapped her head around and fixed Han Yuhyeon with a stare. He flinched. Even if he had wanted to pretend he had not been looking, she had turned too quickly for that to work.
“Even if this lady is devastatingly beautiful, do not stare so blatantly.”
“Not right now, you aren’t.”
“Ah. Is that so.”
Baekri-wan herself seemed to keep forgetting, but at the moment she wore a face nearly identical to Han Yuhyeon’s before the scales had covered him—a face that looked as if it had been struck by a heavenly tribulation.
Even knowing her true appearance, hearing her call herself beautiful while wearing that face made his fist clench of its own accord. He quietly hid it behind his back; striking an elder would have been unforgivable rudeness.
“Then why do you keep staring? Because I’m that ugly?”
“Because it’s fascinating.”
“What is? The ugliness?”
“No. It’s just… strange, hearing you keep talking like that while wearing my face.”
“Then what could possibly be more fascinating than this face?”
Han Yuhyeon glanced ahead and behind them. Their conversation was being carried by the sound-transmission technique, voices delivered straight into each other’s ears so the others could not hear, yet he still felt oddly self-conscious.
“As far as I know, Great Wood Essence is a material even renowned sects struggle to obtain. How do you happen to have it—and how are you able to simply hand it over to me?”
“Think again. Do you honestly believe solving that little curiosity will help your cultivation or your training right now?”
“Probably not. Pure curiosity.”
“Then the correct choice is not to ask. And the correct choice for me is not to answer.”
Baekri-wan turned her head forward again with an aloof look. Under normal circumstances the sway of her hair would have been captivating, but with that face attached it only made him want to slap her.
If Baekri-wan’s mask ever appeared as a game item, it would probably carry Charm -99. Charm turned out to be a far more influential stat than he had expected.
That aside, she was not wrong. In the cultivation world, ignorance was medicine more often than knowledge was power.
“Understood. If it’s something I’m meant to know, I’ll learn it naturally later.”
“That is correct.”
Just as their exchange ended, Un Song-byeok, who had been flying ahead, glanced back.
“We are nearly there. We will descend.”
“Ah—yes.”
Looking down, Han Yuhyeon saw that the endless mountain range had finally given way to rooftops of ordinary dwellings.
The cultivators of the Baekun Sect had set out early intending to look around So-ui-ju first; there was no need to head straight to Wonhu Gate. Arriving early would only have earned them contempt from the local sects.
Thus their first stop in So-ui-ju was the cultivation market. With the density of spiritual energy in the air so much higher than Yeongil-ju’s, So-ui-ju boasted far more sects—and a correspondingly far more developed marketplace.
“Whoa…”
As the flying vessel gradually lowered, the air itself changed. Near the capital of a mortal nation, where ordinary people thronged, some measure had clearly been taken to keep accidental intruders out.
“What an enormous scale.”
Jeong Cheon-o exclaimed with exaggerated awe. Even through the slits of Baekri-wan’s mask, Han Yuhyeon could tell she found the man’s theatrics distasteful.
A pity, really—wanting to catch someone’s eye only to have that person despise your very nature.
“It seems even more prosperous than when I last visited.”
“Indeed.”
Jeong Cheon-o was not alone. Im Su-weol, Un Song-byeok, and even Geum Wi-hyeong all marveled at the sheer size of So-ui-ju’s cultivation market. Han Yuhyeon felt the same strangeness; the rigid in-game graphics of the market had never prepared him for this sprawling grandeur. The only person who maintained quiet dignity throughout was Baekri-wan.
“We’re in trouble now. The quick-eyed merchants will already have realized we’re cultivators fresh from the sticks. We should be careful not to get fleeced too badly.”
At Baekri-wan’s cold voice everyone snapped to attention. Sure enough, the merchants standing at the market entrance were already smacking their lips as they eyed the Baekun Sect party.
“My, my, a pleasure to meet you, fellow Daoists. Judging by your faces, is this your first visit to So-ui-ju’s cultivation market?”
Right on cue, a man who looked every bit the local tout approached with a warm, familiar tone. Un Song-byeok answered a beat late in a solemn voice.
“No, it is not our first time.”
“Haha. Even if it is not the first, it must have been several years at least. The market has changed a great deal in that time—districts and sections rearranged, and many new stalls that cultivators treat like holy ground.”
“Holy ground?”
Baekri-wan let out a soft sigh behind them. Han Yuhyeon tilted his head as well. This was hardly a place overrun by religions; what sort of “holy ground” was the man talking about?
“Haha. By ‘holy ground’ I mean places that sell spiritual medicines and artifacts below market price. The fact that you do not know this modern slang tells me it truly has been a long while.”
“That… is true enough.”
“Then might this humble one offer to serve as your guide?”
The tout—Sansu—was excessively friendly. Un Song-byeok was no fool, of course. For all his mild appearance, Han Yuhyeon still remembered the day the sect master had severed Mun Il-pyeong’s head.
“And why show us such kindness?”
“Heh heh. Within the four seas we are all fellow Daoists. What kindness is there to speak of?”
Baekri-wan, who had been watching in silence, finally spat out in open irritation,
“How much.”
“Pardon?”
“How much to guide us through this market. Just say the number instead of flapping your mouth.”
“Hoo… Your voice rolls like jade beads, yet your face looks as if it were stamped out by a pestle. Temper to match, I see.”
“Cut the crap.”
“And that mouth is every bit as filthy as the face. A pity you’re apparently a woman with looks like that—what cultivator would ever want to dual-cultivate with you?”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do it with you anyway.”
“Ugh. Of course I wouldn’t either.”
Living with that face clearly came with serious disadvantages. Had Baekri-wan asked the same question with her real face, the man would have answered politely. Because the mask was modeled on Han Yuhyeon’s old appearance, hostility flared instantly.
Yet for some reason, watching the two of them bicker left an inexplicable sting in Han Yuhyeon’s chest.
“Enough, both of you. We will pay what is required.”
Un Song-byeok immediately produced a storage pouch from his waist and pressed a fistful of spirit stones into Sansu’s hand. The man’s mouth stretched into a delighted grin; the sum was clearly more than he had expected.
“Heh heh. As expected, this Daoist is far more refined than that demon-faced wench.”
Sansu pocketed the stones and started walking, not forgetting to sneer at Baekri-wan before he did so.
“Why give him anything?”
Han Yuhyeon asked Baekri-wan via sound transmission. In the game, the first visit to any market always triggered a mandatory encounter with a Sansu-type NPC—the kind who offered “guidance” while fleecing you. Han Yuhyeon’s usual playstyle had been either to reverse-pickpocket the man or quietly drag him into the woods, kill him, and loot the storage pouch.
Across countless playthroughs he had never once paid one of them, so he could not understand why Un Song-byeok had handed over money.
“Around here the local beggar-guides usually stick together. They’re not particularly threatening even in a group, but there’s no need to make enemies of them either. Keeping one local informant on a short leash is useful.”
“I see.”
So it was like the crocodile and the plover. Having spent every run slaughtering them and treating that as the correct strategy, Han Yuhyeon found the information genuinely new.
At this rate he was beginning to suspect that while he might be a veteran of the game Yeonhwa Seonrok, he was not yet a veteran of this world.
“This establishment has been trading in So-ui-ju’s cultivation market for nearly three hundred years. It enjoys great trust for never cheating on quality or price.”
“I see.”
To Han Yuhyeon’s mild surprise, Sansu guided them through the market quite properly. The shops he recommended were genuinely busy. How many times had he killed a hardworking local guide like this in the game? A strange flicker of guilt stirred.
The market was vast enough that a full circuit took a solid two hours of walking. The entire time Sansu chattered without pause as he led them.
“And here we are at the eastern gate. That completes one full circuit.”
“You have worked hard. Since you have clearly labored more than expected, allow me to add a little more.”
“Ah! There is no need—yet refusing goodwill would also be improper. I gratefully accept.”
Un Song-byeok handed over another half-handful of spirit stones. The guidance had been decent enough that even Baekri-wan made no complaint.
“Where would one go to sell goods?”
Baekri-wan, who had kept her mouth shut the entire tour, finally spoke. Sansu’s face soured at her question, but the extra payment he had just received made him answer with forced generosity.
“Near the northern gate there is a merchant who pays conscientiously—the Fair Price Shop I already pointed out.”
“Is that so? My thanks.”
“Hmph. I’m not telling you for your sake. I’m telling you for this refined Daoist’s sake.”
“You’re just earning the spirit stones you were paid.”
They sniped at each other right to the end. Sansu vanished back toward the market entrance in search of fresh prey, and the party was free to move on their own.
“We have roughly surveyed the place. Everyone may now browse wherever they please. Inside this market there is little real danger.”
Un Song-byeok was right. The cultivation market of So-ui-ju was jointly secured by the region’s sects; ordinary cultivators would not dare cause a disturbance.
“Disciple, come with me to the northern gate.”
Im Su-weol looked as though she wanted to say something to Han Yuhyeon, but Baekri-wan spoke first. Oblivious, Jeong Cheon-o butted in.
“D-Disciple? Do you mean me?”
“No. Disciple Han.”
Baekri-wan cut him off coldly. Jeong Cheon-o’s hopeful face fell. Im Su-weol, who had been about to approach Han Yuhyeon herself, closed her mouth once Baekri-wan claimed him first.
Thus Han Yuhyeon once again found himself led by Baekri-wan toward the northern gate. Side by side they made a striking pair: a man covered in bizarre scales and a woman of historic ugliness.
“Shit—!”
“Ugly as hell, for real.”
“Damn it, if we weren’t inside the market I’d teach them a lesson…”
Passing cultivators raised their voices and openly displayed hostility. Was the face really so bad it deserved a beating? Baekri-wan, of course, was unbothered—it was not her real face. Once again the only person left with a wound in his heart was Han Yuhyeon.
“Why the northern gate, exactly?”
“You have things to sell, don’t you?”
“Pardon?”
Only after he echoed the question did the realization hit. He still carried the storage pouches and artifacts seized from the Cheongrimdo, plus everything Biyong had looted while clearing out its old nest from its days as Gojo.
“Kkyang!”
Biyong, who had been napping until now, let out a triumphant cry as if proudly advertising its own plunder.
“Ah. Right. That’s why you asked. Thank you.”
“Anything you strip off someone else should be liquidated as quickly as possible. Holding onto it too long tends to create awkward situations.”
“As expected of Elder Baek. Another lesson learned.”
Baekri-wan gave a noncommittal nod at the flattery and faced forward again. Thinking about it, Biyong had only ever brought the loot; Han Yuhyeon had never actually checked what was inside the pouches.
They were going to sell everything anyway—he could check while selling. With that thought, he and Baekri-wan stepped into the Fair Price Shop by the northern gate.
The place was crowded with cultivators. Given the sheer volume of goods for sale and the fact that they also bought, the crowd made sense.
“Welcome. Here to sell or to buy?”
A cultivator who looked like the owner asked.
“To sell.”
“Then set them out here.”
The owner patted a flat desk with his palm. Han Yuhyeon unhooked the storage pouches from his waist and laid them down. Storage pouches could not be nested inside other storage pouches, so he had simply hung them at his belt.
“Found you.”
The moment three pouches hit the desk, a sinister voice spoke—not from the owner, but from the side.
Hidden among the crowd until now, the speaker wore clothes that looked strangely familiar on closer inspection. A rough-looking giant of a man with a wild mountain-bandit beard stood a full head taller than Han Yuhyeon.
“So it was you lot. Trash from Yeongil-ju who had the gall to lay hands on the Cheongrimdo.”
Looking carefully, the man’s attire was similar to the Cheongrimdo the Baekun Sect had cleaned out—only of somewhat finer material.
“What are you talking about?”
Han Yuhyeon immediately played dumb, but the giant bared his teeth.
“Those storage pouches are used only by our Cheongrimdo.”
At the words Han Yuhyeon glanced at the pouches on the desk. They did all look identical. Some kind of identification mark for the bandits, apparently.
Baekri-wan’s warning about trouble arising if loot was not disposed of quickly had come true far sooner than expected.
After a moment’s thought, Han Yuhyeon resorted to the most shameless line he could manage.
“…I just found them on the road.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Of course the excuse was useless. Beside him, Baekri-wan clicked her tongue softly.