The Martial Saint Started from Scavenging

At midnight, at the mass grave.

The night wind carried the eerie atmosphere of the desolate graves, making the withered branches of the old locust tree groan and wail like ghosts crying.

Ye Sheng wore a ghost mask, his figure hidden in the shadows of the trees, his aura blending into the darkness.

This was his third time visiting the Ghost Market, and his mindset had changed. The first time was for survival, the second was for a mission, and this time, he was there to do business.

The black-robed guide appeared silently, her pale green lantern swaying in the darkness. She seemed to recognize Ye Sheng, not even bothering to look at the Joker card, and simply uttered two hoarse words: "Follow me."

The stone steps wind downwards, and that familiar scent wafts through the air.

Ye Sheng didn't linger in the outer market. He walked straight through the stalls selling counterfeit and inferior goods and headed towards the passageway leading to the inner market.

The bronze plaque that the stall owner at the ghost market gave him last time was his pass to enter the inner market.

Two tall guards stood at the entrance of the passage, both wearing iron masks and exuding a menacing aura that kept strangers at bay.

They are the "night watchmen," the enforcers of the ghost market.

Ye Sheng stepped forward and handed over the bronze plaque.

A night watchman took the wooden plaque, weighed it in his hand, then looked at it through his eyehole before coldly waving his hand to signal passage.

Upon entering the inner city, Ye Sheng immediately sensed the difference. The space here was more open than the outer city, the dome was higher, and the luminous stones hanging there were brighter.

The stalls are no longer just rags scattered on the ground; most now have simple wooden frames, and the goods displayed are far superior to those in other markets.

Weapons, elixirs, talismans, materials from demonic beasts... a dazzling array.

The atmosphere in the air was more complex.

Ye Sheng's innate perception of "Scavenging" told him that there was much more "spiritual essence" here, but even more so a cold and bloody aura.

The "ghosts" who set up stalls here have a far more powerful aura than those in other cities.

Ye Sheng could even feel several gazes sweeping over him, carrying a sense of scrutiny and assessment.

He ignored them and walked straight to an old man's stall.

"Hey? Old man, what brings you to the inner market to set up a stall?"

Ye Sheng looked at the old man's clothes and asked curiously. It turned out that this man was the old stall owner who had given Ye Sheng the wooden sign.

At this moment, he sat cross-legged on a rock, slowly wiping the jade pendant in his hand. His movements were gentle and focused, just like last time, as if they had never changed in eternity.

"Old man."

Ye Sheng called out again, squatting down in front of the old man's stall. But the old man didn't even lift his eyelids; his voice, still hoarse, came from behind the mask: "Kid, you're here again?"

"Um."

Ye Sheng placed the packets of ordinary herbs he had prepared on the black cloth and asked, "Old man, do you buy medicinal herbs?"

The old man then stopped what he was doing and glanced at the packets of herbs. They were neatly wrapped in oil paper and contained dried snake tongue grass and maidenhair fern.

"There are plenty of common herbs in other markets," he said with a hint of impatience. "I don't buy them here."

"But mine are different." Ye Sheng opened one of the packages. "They've been processed."

Upon hearing this, the old man finally became interested.

He stretched out his withered fingers, picked up a dried snake tongue grass, smelled it under his nose, then pinched off a small piece with his fingernail and looked at the cut surface.

"Hmm, the heat control is quite good; it's locked in about 70% of the medicinal properties." He put down the herbs, looked Ye Sheng over again, and asked, "You know how to process herbs, kid?"

"I only know the basics."

"Okay, how many of these packs do you want to sell?"

"Fifty coins," Ye Sheng quoted a price.

If these herbs were raw, they would fetch at most ten coins at the town's pharmacy. But after processing, their value would be different.

The old man was silent for a moment, then tapped his fingers lightly on his knee.

"Thirty coins," he finally said. "Your processing method is too crude, wasting a lot of medicinal properties. Thirty coins, take it or leave it."

Ye Sheng knew that the other party was trying to lower the price. But his main purpose in coming here was not for these few packets of ordinary herbs.

"Alright, thirty coins, deal."

He readily agreed.

The old man seemed somewhat surprised by his straightforwardness, and took out thirty copper coins from his pocket and threw them onto the cloth.

Ye Sheng put away the money, then took out the two golden thread lotus plants that were carefully wrapped in oil paper and gently placed them on the stall.

The moment the golden-veined leaves of the golden orchid were revealed in the dim light, the old man abruptly stopped wiping his jade pendant.

For the first time, genuine surprise showed in his cloudy eyes.

"This...this is *Anoectochilus roxburghii*?"

His voice trembled as he grabbed one of the plants, brought it close to his mask for a close examination, and continued, "And it's a wild Anoectochilus roxburghii that's over twenty years old!"

He looked up, staring intently at Ye Sheng, and asked, "Where did you get this?"

"I picked them from the mountains," Ye Sheng replied calmly.

The old man's breathing became somewhat rapid.

He put down the golden thread lotus, picked up another one, examined it closely, and muttered, "Perfect condition, roots and stems still in soil, medicinal properties completely unaffected... Good stuff, truly good stuff!"

After a long while, he calmed down and looked at Ye Sheng: "Kid, name your price."

Ye Sheng held up two fingers.

"Two hundred coins?" The old man frowned.

Ye Sheng shook his head.

"Two thousand coins?" The old man's voice rose eight octaves, shocked. "Are you insane?"

Ye Sheng shook his head again and slowly uttered two words: "Twenty taels of silver."

"What?"

The old man suddenly stood up, staring intently at Ye Sheng, and roared, "Boy, don't push your luck! Twenty taels of silver, do you think this is a century-old elixir?"

Twenty taels of silver is equivalent to twenty thousand copper coins. In Shuilongdu, that's enough to buy a small courtyard house.

Ye Sheng didn't speak, but simply watched the old stall owner quietly. He had checked before coming; his father's old book, "The Record of Local Products," mentioned that medicinal herbs of this caliber, like *Anoectochilus roxburghii*, were priceless treasures in Blackstone Town. A ten-year-old plant could sell for five taels of silver. His two plants, one twenty years old and the other nearly thirty, priced at twenty taels, weren't unreasonable.

The old man, panting heavily, paced back and forth. He knew Ye Sheng hadn't overcharged. If this item were taken to the large pharmacies in town, or sold to cultivators who needed it for alchemy, the price would only be higher.

"Kid, you're being way too greedy."

He finally sat back down, his voice softening slightly, and said, "I can only offer fifteen taels at most. Let me tell you, in this ghost market, there aren't many people who can pull out fifteen taels of silver in one go."

Ye Sheng remained silent for a moment, then pushed one of the younger plants over.

"This one, ten taels. I'm not selling the other one."

The old man was stunned. He looked at Ye Sheng and suddenly understood the young man's plan. He was testing his bottom line and also leaving himself a way out.

"Good lad..." The old man laughed in exasperation, "You're even smarter than me."

After saying that, he pulled a heavy cloth bag from a hidden compartment under the stall, threw it to Ye Sheng, and said, "Here is ten taels of silver, please count it."

Ye Sheng took the cloth bag, opened it, and found ten small silver ingots inside, gleaming alluringly in the dim light. He didn't count them, but simply weighed them in his hand before putting them away.

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet." The old man carefully put away the golden thread lotus, then looked up at him. "Young man, have you gotten into some trouble lately?"

Ye Sheng's heart skipped a beat: "Why do you say that, sir?"

"Heh." The old man sneered. "This afternoon, a fellow wearing a silver mask came by and asked about a young man who could use a woodcutter's knife. I think he was referring to you."

Ye Sheng's pupils contracted slightly. Just as Master Liu had said, someone was coming for him.

"May I ask who that person is?"

"have no idea."

The old man shook his head and said, "But judging from his appearance, he's probably not a good person. The smell he has is very similar to that of the Blood Pact Merchant Guild."

Blood Pact Merchant Guild!

Ye Sheng clenched his fists. It seemed that Su Wan's matter had indeed implicated him.

"What does he want with me?"

"How would I know?"

The old man waved his hand and said in a deep voice, "I'll just remind you of one thing: that silver-masked guy is at least at the Bone Forging Realm. You seem to have some skill, but running into him is like an egg hitting a rock. So, you should show your face less often these days, and don't come to the Ghost Market anymore."

Bone Forging Realm! Ye Sheng was greatly shocked.

In the path of martial arts, after the entry level, comes the Bone Forging Realm. Martial artists at this level have refined blood and qi, and strong bones and muscles, making them far superior to ordinary martial artists.

Ship crew elites like Zhang Hu were probably only at this level.

"Thank you for the reminder, sir." Ye Sheng stood up and bowed deeply to the old man.

He knew that the old man was giving him a hint.

Ye Sheng didn't linger and turned to leave; he had to get out of there as soon as possible.

However, just as he blended into the crowd and was about to leave the inner city, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a familiar yet unfamiliar figure out of the corner of his eye.

The man was dressed in a long blue robe with a jade pendant hanging from his waist, exuding an otherworldly air. He wasn't wearing a mask, and a faint smile played on his handsome face. He was talking to the stall owner at a stall selling talismans.

It's Yun Zhonghe! The deacon of the Qingyun Sword Sect, what's he doing here?

Ye Sheng's heart skipped a beat. He instinctively lowered his head and quickened his pace, trying to blend into the crowd. But it was too late.

Yun Zhonghe seemed to sense something and looked in his direction. That gaze, even from a distance of more than ten steps and through a ghost mask, was like a sharp sword, instantly piercing through Ye Sheng's disguise.

Ye Sheng felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He didn't look back, but kept his head down and rushed towards the exit of the outer city at top speed.

As Yun Zhonghe watched the hastily departing figure, a slight smile appeared on his lips, and a hint of amusement flashed in his eyes.

"interesting."

He muttered to himself and did not chase after them.