Cen Dongsheng and An Zhizhen walked hand in hand through the streets of the Ghost Market at a leisurely pace.
Just after 5 AM, the lingering morning mist seeped from the cracks in the ground, like a semi-transparent gauze draping over the winding and tranquil alleys paved with green stone.
The phosphorescent fires of the night market had long extinguished, replaced by amber light cascading from the cave walls and glass lanterns in every corner of the streets. Inside those lanterns, tiny spirit wisps as small as fireflies flitted about, their wingtips emanating a faint blue halo, dyeing the eaves and rooftops in a cold jade hue.
Clothed in black robes or hoods, adorned in various disguises, guests who had traveled from afar roamed the streets, gathering around open shops to haggle with the owners.
As a place of trade, the Shanyin Ghost Market possessed an exceptionally unique quality.
