The Martial Saint Started from Scavenging

At night, the sound of the Duanlong River is even deeper than during the day, like a giant beast pounding against the rocks on the shore.

Back in the shed, perhaps due to the strong effect of the sedative medicine left by Manager Hu, Ye Kai was sleeping soundly. Although his breathing was still a little turbid, it was much more stable than yesterday.

Ye Sheng tucked the blanket around his younger brother, then looked at the broken leg, which was fixed in place with a wooden board and looked particularly stiff in the dim firelight. He felt a pang of heartache.

Ye Sheng stared at it for a long time before bending down to blow out the oil lamp.

The shed was plunged into darkness, with only the last embers in the charcoal brazier glowing with a dark red light, flickering on and off, barely extinguished.

Ye Sheng touched his pockets; everything was still there: the dusty stone, the wooden plaque with the ghost face given to him by Master Liu, the mask and the copper coins, and the freshly sharpened wood-chopping knife.

Then, he pushed open the door and went out.

The river wind was like a knife. The wind, carrying damp and cold air, rushed towards Ye Sheng's face, as if ice shards were being poured into his collar.

He tightened the frayed hemp rope around his waist, and instead of heading towards the ferry, he turned west and disappeared into the wilderness.

The night was as dark as ink, so thick it seemed impossible to see through. The moon had secretly hidden behind the clouds, and only a few scattered stars peeked out from the edge of the sky. The faint light of the night couldn't even illuminate the path three feet below.

Five miles west of Blackstone Town lies a mass burial ground. This place is a taboo subject among the locals.

In earlier years, wars broke out frequently in the eastern region, resulting in many deaths. Since there was nowhere to bury them, they were simply thrown into this low-lying area to the west and covered with a thin layer of soil.

Later, when migrant workers along the river died and couldn't afford coffins or land, they would secretly send their bodies here.

Over time, the earthen slopes became covered with weeds, and an old locust tree, having absorbed all the nutrients from the ground, grew so large that it blocked out the sky, its roots entwined with countless withered bones.

It was still early, so Ye Sheng walked slowly but steadily. The path beneath his feet gradually changed from hard dirt to soft, decaying leaf litter, making no sound when he stepped on it.

Occasionally, you might step on a dead branch that has been buried for who knows how long, and with a "crack," it explodes in the quiet night, sending chills down your spine.

The surrounding shadows of trees groveled in the darkness, their branches twisted like ghostly claws, rustling in the wind like a horde of ghosts dancing wildly.

Ye Sheng wasn't afraid. Why would a poor man be afraid of a fierce ghost?

If ghosts could truly manifest, the world would have been turned upside down long ago, and there wouldn't be a place for a scoundrel like Wang Laizi to act so arrogantly.

In Ye Sheng's view, the human heart is more ferocious than a ghost!

When they arrived at the old locust tree that Master Liu had mentioned, Ye Sheng looked up at the sky.

Thick clouds obscured the night sky, with only a few pale moonlight occasionally peeking through, falling on the branches of the old locust tree and coating them with an eerie silver edge.

He estimated that there should still be about fifteen minutes until the ionization time.

Feeling bored, Ye Sheng began to observe the old locust tree.

This old locust tree has thick branches and trunks, requiring three strong men to encircle them. Its bark is cracked and peeling, like the scars covering an old man's skin.

The tree has an enormous canopy. Although all the leaves have fallen, the dense branches intertwine to form a giant net that completely blocks out the already thin sunlight.

The wind whistled through the treetops.

Ye Sheng took out a ghost face mask from his pocket and put it on his face.

The inside of the mask was rough, the wood shavings made my cheeks ache, and there was a musty smell mixed with some kind of fishy odor.

He held the ghost-face wooden plaque in his hand again, pressed his back against the tree trunk, assumed a standing posture, gripped the ground with both feet, lowered his center of gravity, and allowed his qi and blood to flow slowly in his body.

Firstly, to dispel the biting chill of the night, and secondly, to maintain a state where one can act at any time.

He is waiting.

Master Liu said that when midnight arrives, someone will come to guide the way.

Time passed slowly. Occasionally, the mournful cry of an owl could be heard in the distance.

Ye Sheng remained motionless, his breathing extremely slow and shallow, his eyes fixed on the darkness ahead through the eye holes of his mask.

Suddenly, the wind stopped.

The rustling of leaves, the chirping of insects, and the hooting of owls all vanished in an instant, plunging the entire mass grave into a deathly silence.

Ye Sheng's heart skipped a beat, and he gently touched the handle of the wood-chopping knife with his right hand.

At that moment, a shadow appeared out of nowhere in the darkness just three zhang directly in front of him.

The shadow was extremely short, with a hunched back, and its entire body was wrapped in a large black robe that trailed on the ground, yet it was not stained with a speck of dirt.

The shadowy figure carried a white paper lantern, its pale green flame burning dimly, barely illuminating the area within three feet, and only enough to light the foot of the shadow itself.

Ye Sheng's pupils contracted slightly, his heart filled with fear.

He had been staring straight ahead, but when did this person appear? There were no footsteps, no breath.

"Joker".

His voice was hoarse and dry, making it impossible to tell if he was male or female, or even his age.

Ye Sheng didn't say anything, but handed over the Joker card in his hand.

The man in black robes stretched out a hand. The hand was withered and thin, the skin wrinkled like dried orange peel, the knuckles large and protruding, the nails extremely long, curved like hooks, black and shiny, like eagle claws, or like the toenails of some kind of wild animal.

After taking the wooden plaque, the man in the black robe lightly scratched a certain engraving on the plaque with his fingernail, making a "sizzling" sound.

"From Shuilongdu?" the man in black asked in a low voice, his tone devoid of emotion.

"Yes," Ye Sheng replied in a low voice.

However, he thought to himself: Huh? How does he know I'm from Shuilongdu? Could there be a mark on this ghost card?

The man in black robes tossed the wooden sign back to Ye Sheng. Seemingly noticing Ye Sheng's confusion, he said in a deep voice, "Follow me. Don't ask any questions or make a sound. If you see anything later, pretend you didn't."

After saying that, he turned and left.

Ye Sheng caught the wooden plaque, put it back in his pocket, and quickly followed.

The man in black robes walked extremely fast, seemingly staggering and dragging his feet with each step. In reality, with each step he was already several feet away, yet the hem of his robes remained perfectly still.

Ye Sheng had to jog to keep up, the rustling of decaying leaves underfoot sounding particularly jarring in the deathly silence.

Instead of heading towards the mounds of earth and graves deep within the mass grave, they circled around to the back of the old locust tree, to an inconspicuous earthen slope.

The earthen slope was not high, overgrown with weeds, and several crooked pebbles were half-buried in the soil, looking like tombstones.

The man in black robes stopped in front of the earthen slope, picked up his lantern, and slowly swayed it across the slope.

Strange things happened.

Under the light, the originally unremarkable surface of the earthen slope gradually revealed the shadowy image of a broken stone tablet.

The stele was translucent, as if formed by the solidification of light and shadow. The characters on it were blurred and mottled, and only the ancient character at the top could be vaguely discerned—"幽".

The man in black robes stretched out his withered, claw-like hand and gently pressed it on the top of the phantom stone tablet.

"Click, click-click—"

A series of mechanical sounds came from deep underground, a deep and long sound, as if a sleeping beast underground had been awakened and was turning over in the mud.

Immediately afterwards, the ground below the slope, just three feet in front of Ye Sheng's feet, slowly cracked open to both sides.

There was no soil churning, no gravel rolling down; the ground seemed to have been torn open by an invisible force, revealing a bottomless black hole.

Suddenly, a mixture of incense, decay, and a strange sweet scent gushed out from the cave entrance, hitting Ye Sheng's face, and carrying a faint smell of blood.

"Go in."

The man in black robes stepped aside, his voice still cold, "Let me make this clear: the Ghost Market only cares about money and goods, not fate. If you die inside, no one will collect your body. You must come out before the stone lamp goes out."

Ye Sheng stared through the eye holes of the mask at the black hole that resembled the gaping maw of a giant beast. The edges of the hole were neat yet eerie, and below were winding stone steps that descended, their outlines blurred by the faint light emanating from the depths.

He hesitated for only a moment. Images of Ye Kai's pale and weak face flashed through his mind, as did Wang Laizi's order for his brother's leg to be broken, and the possibility that his brother might lose his other leg three days later.

If we retreat now, it will be a dead end. But no matter how dangerous the path ahead, at least it's a way out.

Ye Sheng stopped thinking about it, tightened his grip on the wood-chopping knife, took a deep breath, and then stepped into that unknown darkness.

The steps underfoot were made of rough stones, slippery, steep, and spiraled downwards.

The stone steps are narrow, allowing only one person to pass at a time. On both sides are naturally formed rock walls that are cold and damp to the touch and covered with slippery moss.

Every dozen or so steps on the wall, there is a stone the size of an egg embedded in it, emitting a cold white light. The light is so weak that it can only barely illuminate a range of two or three steps underfoot.

It seems that the stone lamp the man in black robes mentioned earlier must be this thing!

The further down you go, the more stuffy the air becomes, and the stronger the sweet, fishy smell gets.

At the same time, another sound gradually became clearer. It was a low buzzing sound, like countless flies fluttering their wings in a confined space, or like countless people whispering in hushed tones.

Ye Sheng climbed about a hundred steps, turned a sharp bend, and suddenly the view opened up before him.

The white light suddenly intensified.

Ye Sheng squinted subconsciously, and after his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the scene before him clearly. Even with his strong will, he couldn't help but catch his breath.

This is an unimaginably huge underground cavern. The dome is extremely high, estimated to be at least several dozen feet high, with countless strangely shaped stalactites hanging upside down. They vary in length, some as thick as pillars, others as thin as needles.

Some even hang down from the dome all the way to near the ground. And among these natural stone pillars and stalagmites, there are various "stalls" scattered in a well-organized manner.

These stalls, though called stalls, were mostly pitifully simple: some were just a tattered cloth spread on the ground with a few items casually placed on it; others were a shed made of a few wooden sticks with people squatting under it; the slightly better ones were just low platforms made of a few broken wooden planks.

And people, people everywhere. Or rather, "ghosts" wearing masks everywhere.

They varied in appearance and clothing: some were dressed in fine clothes; some were ragged; some were burly and carried huge blades; some were thin and hunched over, huddled in a corner.

Everyone wore ghost masks of all shapes and sizes, leaving only pairs of eyes visible—some wary, some greedy; some indifferent, some insane.

No one raised their voices. All transactions were conducted in extremely low voices; one could only hear a few words if one were close at hand.

"...this number..."

"...The goods are not as described..."

"...The last time..."

So this was the buzzing sound Ye Sheng had heard when he was born. The smell of incense and decay in the air was even stronger, and the stench of blood was even more intense.

This is the Ghost Market.

The black-robed guide did not follow; he had disappeared into the darkness of the path they had come from.

Ye Sheng stood alone at the end of the stone steps. He didn't rush to move, but instead took half a step back and pressed his body against a thick stalagmite to observe first.

Although there are no explicit rules here, he knows that every place has its own unwritten rules, let alone a strange place like the Ghost Market.

I must be careful, otherwise I might accidentally cause trouble and lose my life.

Not far away, two masked men were arguing, one of them holding a small jade piece covered in mud.

"This is a newly unearthed 'Jade Cicada,' with natural patina, and you're only offering fifty coins? Are you kidding me?"

"Hmph, what do you mean 'just unearthed'!"

Another voice, shrill and high-pitched, poked at the mud on the jade piece with its finger. "The 'earthy smell' on it is from chicken blood mixed with river mud. You can fool an amateur like that. Fifty coins, take it or leave it. If you don't want to sell, get lost."

"you……"

"What? Want to practice?"

The owner of the high-pitched voice placed his hand on his waist, where a short, sheathed blade was tucked, its handle worn smooth and shiny.

Upon hearing this, the seller's eyes flickered, his momentum weakened, and he finally cursed, grabbed the jade cicada, retreated to his tattered cloth stall, and fell silent.

The buyer scoffed and turned to disappear into the crowd.

Ye Sheng narrowed his eyes, his expression grave.

The people here, though their faces are covered by masks, cannot hide the ferocity and violence emanating from them; a single disagreement could lead to bloodshed.

He pressed his hand against the inside pocket of his shirt, feeling the gray stone digging into his chest. He then touched the twenty coins he had borrowed from Master Liu; in this place, they probably wouldn't even buy the worst goods.

Taking a deep breath and calming himself, Ye Sheng then blended into the crowd.

Upon entering the crowd, the skill of scavenging seemed to be touched by the rich and mixed "atmosphere" here.

Ye Sheng felt his eyes getting slightly hot. When his gaze swept over the goods on the stalls on both sides, he was no longer simply looking at them. Some vague fragments of information would occasionally pop into his mind.

For example, a certain metal fragment gave him a feeling of "chaotic decay"; a certain herb gave off a very faint feeling of "coolness"; further away, a bone half-hidden under a black robe made Ye Sheng's heart tighten inexplicably, and a faint feeling of "coldness" rose up.

Although it's not as clear as touching and perceiving with your own hands, this intuitive ability allows him to at least roughly distinguish which items are purely junk and which might actually have some merit.

"This ghost market is truly a... treasure trove for scavenging."

Ye Sheng chuckled to himself as he gripped the wood-chopping knife in his sleeve, the rough wooden handle giving him a sense of security.

He didn't linger, but strode forward into the deeper, darker areas of the cave.