Chapter 106: Black Market, Iron Shirt Advancement, and a Recommendation

Chapter 106: Black Market, Iron Shirt Advancement, and a Recommendation

The Black Market lay thirty li north of the city, hidden in an abandoned village known now as Blackstone Village.

Su Chen wore a disguise—his face altered to feature four distinctive eyebrows beneath a black cloak. This time, he forwent his usual False Arm Sheath, opting instead for a new steel saber strapped to his waist. He wasn’t alone in his disguise; before reaching the market, he noticed several others similarly cloaked and masked, all heading the same way.

The Black Market buzzed with activity as Su Chen approached. Crowds stretched beyond sight, guarded by two men in dark robes at the entrance.

“Ten Silver Taels for entry,” one guard grunted.

Su Chen paid the fee and joined the throng. Stalls lined the streets, manned mostly by martial cultivators hawking wares, though a few permanent shops stood among them. The scene reminded him of a bustling vegetable market from his past life—chaotic yet strangely organized.

Merchants peddled everything: rare artifacts, exotic beast meats, herbal ingredients, secret manuals, and weapons. Yet most items were shrouded in doubt—counterfeits lurked among the genuine.

After searching extensively, Su Chen found a stall selling Vital Energy Pills, surrounded by eager buyers.

“A single Vital Energy Pill costs three hundred Silver Taels here,” he overheard. Despite the price, buyers gritted their teeth and paid.

“You’re next,” rasped the Gray-Cloaked Merchant, his voice hoarse.

“How many do you have?” Su Chen asked, eyeing the stall’s sign.

The merchant hesitated. “Ten left. I’ll offer a discount—2,950 Silver Taels for all ten.”

“Quality guaranteed?”

“Try one first.”

Su Chen handed over a hundred Silver Taels. The merchant snatched the payment and produced a small vial from his sleeve. Su Chen uncorked it—the pill’s color matched the one he’d previously owned. Without hesitation, he swallowed it.

The merchant stiffened but said nothing, waiting. Moments later, Su Chen spoke.

“Fifty Silver Taels is too little. Make it a hundred. I might return—let’s call this a handshake deal.”

After a pause, the merchant nodded. “Agreed.”

The transaction complete, Su Chen pocketed his ten pills and wandered to a nameless shop.

“What information do you seek?” a clerk asked, offering paper and ink.

Su Chen scribbled a request. The clerk vanished, returning shortly. “Fifty Tael Gold.”

The payment exchanged hands, and Su Chen slipped the note into his robe.

With his two tasks done, he resumed browsing, hoping to find a Crescent Blade Art. Most manuals were incomplete, dubious, or failed to meet his Progress Panel’s requirements. A few complete versions existed, but none included Momentum Attunement techniques—useless for him.

An hour later, crowds thinned. Su Chen left, satisfied with acquiring the Vital Energy Pills and news of Qian Xue.

“Someone ahead,” he muttered, quickening his pace. Not far off, a clash erupted between two groups of black-cloaked figures. He veered onto a side path, guessing it was another ambush for wealth.

Back in Big Feng City, he changed into plain clothes. The streets pulsed with night life as he returned home.

Eagerly, he tested the pills. Their colors and scents matched expectations, but true efficacy required trial.

He swallowed a flawed-looking pill—Progress Panel advanced by one unit. A second, better-shaped pill added another 0.5 units. Three pills later, his blood burned like boiling water, forcing him to stop.

The next morning, he woke after two hours of sleep, invigorated. An hour of martial arts calmed his lingering heat.

At dawn, he downed a fifth Vital Energy Pill. By midday, after consuming eight and brewing the remaining five Boiling Blood Powders, his Progress Panel updated.

“Iron Shirt has reached the second layer!”

A faint white mist exhaled from his lips, lingering in the air for twenty centimeters.

“My Vital Force remains at five layers,” he noted, “but its quality has significantly improved. Internal organs strengthened, breathing deepened, heartbeats steadied—my liver, kidneys, and spleen feel markedly fortified.”

“But most importantly…”

Su Chen stared at his palm in astonishment. A faint, vapor-like film shimmered across its surface, shifting with his movements—this was Vital Force!

“It can now adhere to my skin!”

The sight brought back memories of Tao Dingfang. If Su Chen recalled correctly, Tao’s Vital Force had once clung to his weapon during their fight, catching him off guard. If not for his unusually robust physique, he might have sustained a critical injury that day.

“Now my cultivation realm is probably on par with Tao Dingfang’s back then, but my strength… pales in comparison? Using Master Ye’s calculations, conservative estimates suggest I could take five Tao Dingfangs at once!”

Shaking off Ye’s glowing image from his mind, Su Chen steadied himself, his excitement fading as he turned to practical concerns.

“But advancing from Iron Shirt Layer One to Two already requires ten Vital Energy Pills. Each pill costs three hundred taels on the black market. Doing this twice is manageable, but long-term, this will drain my finances.”

The progression panel for advancing from Iron Shirt Layer Two to Three had also materialized—twenty Vital Energy Pills. At black-market prices, that was six thousand taels. With barely ten thousand taels left in his pocket, he could barely afford one more Kryptonite Elixir before running dry.

Worse, settling into this new life required expenses. Letting his funds dwindle without income wouldn’t last. Earlier that night, he’d noticed many herb vendors selling Vital Energy-related ingredients and pills at the black market. Their businesses thrived. “Perhaps I should explore this avenue. I possess two formulas: the Unnamed Medicine Formula and Boiling Blood Powder.”

Sustainable growth required balance—earning as well as spending. He’d prepare extra Boiling Blood Powder to sell at the next black market. Constant spending, no matter how wealthy one started, inevitably led to ruin. After all, ten thousand taels wasn’t even a drop in the bucket for true aristocrats.

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Sheng Mansion

Dominating two bustling streets in Honglan District, the estate exuded opulence from its very foundations.

“Halt! What’s your business here?” A line of guards barred Su Chen’s approach, their gazes sharp.

“I’m here to see Madam Sheng—Qian Xue.” Su Chen replied, unflinching.

The lead guard sized him up. “And who are you?”

“A distant relative of Madam Qian Xue.” Su Chen said after a pause.

“Proof?”

Su Chen produced Hong Ming’s letter. “This will confirm it. Please deliver it.”

The guard hesitated. “May I take the letter for verification?”

After a moment’s deliberation, Su Chen handed it over.

The guard entered while Su Chen waited at the gate. Whether he’d be received remained uncertain.

Hong Ming had mentioned Qian Xue was his childhood friend, but Su Chen knew she’d long since married—Hong Risheng, a prominent figure in Xuan Shui Sect. The mansion itself, grander than the city’s administrative offices, spoke volumes about their status.

The guard passed through courtyards and gardens toward the Shadowed Courtyard.

“Master,” a young man called from across the yard, his lithe frame drenched in sweat from training. “What’s urgent?”

“A distant relative of the Madam seeks an audience.” The guard bowed low, eyes averted.

“Another distant relative?” The young man scoffed. Since his father became a sect leader, countless “distant relatives” had appeared, most fabricating ties for favors. “Some gold-digger again. Must you bother Mother with this? Go chase him off.”

“Y-yes, sir!” The guard nearly stumbled retreating.

“Wait!” The young man suddenly halted him. “What’s that in your hand?”

“The letter from that fellow.”

“Let me see.” He snatched the letter, dismissing the guard with a glare.

Scanning its contents, his expression darkened. The guard, lingering nearby, trembled under his gaze, cursing Su Chen inwardly.

“Take him to the side hall. Let him wait.” The young man—Hong Chen—finally ordered before hurrying to the study.

“Enter!”

Inside, an elegant middle-aged man—Hong Risheng—glanced up. “What’s troubling you?”

“Father, read this.” Hong Chen tossed the letter onto the desk.

Hong Risheng’s expression mirrored his son’s as he read. “Who is this Hong Ming?”

“A fool who overestimates himself,” Hong Risheng sneered. “I’m surprised he survived all these years.”

Hong Chen, already aware of Hong Ming’s ties to his mother, pressed, “Regardless of who he is, you mustn’t grant him the sect’s recommendation slot.”

The letter’s hidden plea—to have Qian Xue recommend Su Chen—confirmed his fears. That coveted spot, even his father, as a sect leader, received only one annually, was already promised to his fiancée’s brother.

“Don’t panic. Your mother has a second recommendation,” Hong Risheng replied casually.

“But wasting it on a stranger?!” Hong Chen protested.

“A mere slot. Your mother’s happiness matters more.” Hong Risheng shrugged. “Besides, could Xuan Shui Sect even accept such a country bumpkin?”

“You mean…”

Hong Risheng stood, his tone cryptic. “Deliver the letter to your mother. Even if she grants it out of nostalgia, the sect will weed him out.”

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Side Hall

Su Chen had waited over a quarter-hour when hurried footsteps echoed outside. A faint fragrance wafted in—a mature woman entered, her presence radiating elegance. Her eyes lit upon seeing him.

“”(End of Chapter)

Chapter end