The Martial Saint Started from Scavenging

The ghost market is divided into three levels.

The outer market is a mundane trading area, a mixed bag, mostly filled with shady goods and counterfeit products, occasionally mixed with one or two genuine treasures covered in dust.

The inner city is a gray area; you can't get in without some status or power.

As for the deepest part, the Netherworld, it is a strange and eerie realm where even living people are rarely seen.

Ye Sheng is currently in another city, where the air is polluted and makes him feel suffocated.

He tried to avoid the crowds and walked along the edge of the cave. Under his feet was naturally formed rock, uneven and with shallow water in some places, making a soft splashing sound when he stepped on it.

Water droplets occasionally dripped from the stalactites hanging overhead, landing on my shoulders, icy cold.

A large crowd had gathered in front of one of the stalls.

The stall owner was a shirtless, burly man with a menacing tattoo on his chest that gleamed bluish-black in the dim light.

In front of him was a row of dark earthenware jars, their mouths sealed with yellow mud and covered with crooked talismans.

"Genuine 'Corpse Oil Ointment'!" the burly man roared, his voice echoing through the cave. "Knife wounds that reach the bone will scab over in three days! Two hundred coins a jar, no deception!"

Among the onlookers, someone reached out to touch the jar, but the burly man slapped his hand away: "Screw you! Don't touch it if you're not buying! This thing loses its power when it's touched by people!"

Ye Sheng passed by, his gaze sweeping over the jars.

[Skill: Scavenging (Skilled)]

[Feedback: The product contains inferior lard mixed with wood ash and trace amounts of hemostatic herbs; no spiritual reaction was observed.]

This is a scam.

Ye Sheng sneered inwardly, but didn't stop walking.

After walking a dozen or so steps, there was a weapons stall.

The stall owner, a small, thin man, was holding a rusty, broken sword, speaking in a low voice to the two customers in front of him:

"This was the sword of the late General Zhenbei. It drank countless lives and its murderous aura was so strong that it broke. Look at the rust at the break; it's been three hundred years and it's still so bright..."

The two men leaned closer to look, seemingly interested in buying it.

Ye Sheng's gaze fell on the sword.

[Scavenging (Skilled)]

[Feedback: This is a 10-year-old varnish, artificially aged. Significant acid corrosion marks are visible. The blood rust is formed by repeatedly applying and drying chicken blood.]

They're still scammers.

Ye Sheng walked past more than a dozen stalls, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

This outer market is less a ghost market and more a concentration camp for swindlers.

Most of the items are obviously fake and worthless: what is called "thousand-year-old ginseng" is just a radish carving; what is touted as "ancient jade" is actually dyed stone; and what is called "monster fur" is just dog skin treated with dye.

Occasionally, a few genuine items are found, but their prices are outrageously inflated. A reasonably aged hemostatic herb that sells for three coins in an outside pharmacy is being asked for thirty coins here.

He even saw a stall selling "human flesh buns". The stall owner had set up a small stove in front of the stall, and steam was rising from the steamer, with the aroma of buns wafting far and wide.

Several ragged people stood there, watching longingly. One of them took out a few copper coins, trembling as he handed them over, and in return received a steaming hot bun, which he then wolfed down.

Ye Sheng only glanced at it before his stomach churned. The color of the minced meat... was off.

He quickly walked away, a chill running through him.

If a normal person stayed in this place for too long, they would probably go crazy.

Just as he was feeling somewhat disappointed and preparing to venture deeper into the cave, his [Scavenging (Proficient)] talent suddenly jolted.

The sensation was very faint, like a fine needle gently pricking his brow.

It didn't come from goods, but from people.

Ye Sheng stopped and looked in the direction he sensed.

There was an inconspicuous stall in an inconspicuous recess at the edge of the cave.

The light there was particularly dim, and several of the luminous stones overhead seemed to be broken, leaving only a faint light that could barely illuminate a few steps around.

A piece of black cloth, washed until it turned gray, was laid out on the stall, its edges worn and frayed.

Scattered on the cloth were a few items: three oddly shaped, dark-colored minerals; half a piece of dead wood with cracked bark; and several thumb-sized porcelain bottles sealed with corks and covered with faded red paper labels.

The stall owner was a middle-aged man, wearing a gray cloth long gown with frayed edges on the cuffs and hem.

Unlike other stall owners who would shout or solicit customers, he sat cross-legged on a flat stone, holding a worn-out coarse cloth in his hand, slowly wiping a jade pendant.

The jade pendant was of ordinary quality and the carving was also ordinary, but he polished it very carefully, stroke after stroke, with slow movements that conveyed an indescribable sense of rhythm.

No one stopped at the stall. Occasionally someone would pass by, glance at the unremarkable goods, and then shake their head and walk away.

Ye Sheng noticed a few details.

This person's hands are very special. The fingers are long and slender with distinct knuckles. Although the skin is rough and there are calluses on the knuckles, the nails are trimmed very neatly with smooth edges.

Especially on the fingertips and pads, there is a thin and even layer of calluses. These are not thick calluses left from doing rough work, but rather calluses that are slowly worn out from years of handling objects, holding pens, or wielding knives.

More importantly, Ye Sheng, standing three zhang away, could faintly smell a very faint scent emanating from him.

It wasn't the musty smell of incense or candles, nor the smell of blood, but a crisp, refreshing scent, similar to... the "coolness" he had felt on those three pieces of vermilion paper.

It is spiritual essence.

Although it was very faint, almost completely dissipated, this person had indeed been touched by the aura of spiritual energy. Moreover, it wasn't just occasional contact, but a long-term immersion, which is why such a faint "aftertaste" remained.

Ye Sheng's heart stirred.

Even if this person is not a cultivator, he must be an expert who deals with spiritual materials, elixirs, or talismans year-round.

This kind of person should know the value of their grey stone.

He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention before slowly walking over.

The stall owner seemed not to see him, continuing to wipe the jade pendant with his head down, his movements unchanged.

Ye Sheng squatted down in front of the stall, not in a hurry to take out anything, but first looked at the goods on the cloth.

He held out his hand, pointed to the half-dead log, and tentatively asked, "Boss, how much is this log?"

The stall owner didn't stop working, nor did he look up. His voice came from behind his mask: "Lightning-struck wood, five hundred coins."

Ye Sheng's eyelids twitched.

[Scavenging (Skilled)]

[Feedback: Dead old willow wood, with charred bark, no natural lightning strike patterns, no spiritual energy, ordinary item.]

Is this person also a fraud?

Ye Sheng remained calm and pointed to the small porcelain bottle with the most intact label: "What's inside this?"

"Beast blood, used for drawing talismans. One hundred coins a bottle."

[Scavenging (Skilled)]

[Feedback: The product contains chicken blood mixed with cinnabar. The packaging is acceptable, but trace amounts of spiritual essence remain (derived from the cinnabar).]

This time it's for real. Although the spiritual essence is very faint, just a tiny bit from the cinnabar itself, it's definitely there. And it's tightly sealed, with no adulteration.

Ye Sheng had a better understanding of the situation. This stall owner was mixing genuine and fake products; the withered wood was a hoax, but the animal blood was real.

Those with poor eyesight who are scared off by the name "lightning-struck wood" or who buy counterfeit goods because they are greedy for cheap prices are just being ripped off.

Only those who can distinguish between truth and falsehood and understand the intricacies of the business are qualified to discuss genuine transactions.

The other party is screening people out, weeding out those who don't know the ropes.

"Boss." Ye Sheng lowered his voice, leaned forward slightly, and took out the gray stone from the inner pocket of his body.

He didn't take it out completely, but covered it with his palm, only letting a corner peek out from between his fingers, and said, "I'm not buying anything, I'm selling something. Could you take a look?"

Upon hearing this, the stall owner finally stopped polishing the jade pendant.

He slowly raised his head, the plain white ghost mask looking particularly eerie in the dim light, his two eyes coldly sweeping over Ye Sheng through the gaps.

His gaze was cold and indifferent, devoid of curiosity, as if he were looking at a piece of wood.

But Ye Sheng felt a chill down his spine, as if an invisible knife had scraped him from the inside out.

"My rule is that I only accept rare items, not junk." The stall owner's voice remained emotionless. "Take a look. If it's just ordinary stuff, get lost."

Upon hearing this, Ye Sheng opened his palm and gently placed the stone on the black cloth of the stall.

The gray stone was inconspicuous in the dim light, only about half the size of a palm, with a pitted surface, a dark color, and several chips along the edge, looking just like an ordinary pebble on a riverbank.

The stall owner glanced at it, let out a soft snort, seemingly losing interest, and then went back to wiping his jade pendant.

"It's just a piece of junk, kid. You're not here to amuse yourself, are you...?"

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly stopped.