The streets bustled with activity. Restaurants opened their doors, steam curling from their kitchens, while merchants hawked wares from lacquered stalls. Cultivators strode past in long robes that flared like banners, and carts rattled over stone roads with the weight of goods from distant provinces.
Lanterns hung unlit from the eaves, swaying gently in the breeze, their polished frames catching the sunlight and scattering a golden glow across the crowd.
Han Jie—dressed in flowing white trousers and a delicate pink top, adorned with intricate gold chains and floral embroidery—stayed close as Shi Yang slowed before a stall of herbs. Her eyes swept the rows of jars and bottles. "You need anything?"
Her long black hair was styled in elegant buns, with strands free-falling at the back—adorned with pink flowers and golden accessories that drifted with each sway of the wind.
"Just looking," he said, straightening his robes. "I want to get a sense of the market before buying."
Han Jie raised a brow but said nothing, selecting a few bottles and passing coins across the counter. She tucked them into her pouch, then gave him a light bump with her shoulder. "You've been half-glum since that dance. Don't just brood at the stalls—let me at least buy you something."
Shi Yang exhaled through his nose, lips twitching faintly. "Fine. But after this, we just focus on the list."
"Nope," she said with stubborn playfulness. "I'm spoiling you a little. It's not every day I get to walk the market with my partner."
They threaded deeper into the bazaar until a loud clamor drew their attention. Chains rattled, voices shouted, and a crowd pressed toward a makeshift wooden stage at the end of a side street.
Shi Yang's gaze sharpened. "What's happening there?"
They edged forward. A group of snake men stood bound in heavy restraints—torsos and arms humanoid, but every inch of their skin replaced by shimmering scales. Their long tails coiled and twitched against the boards. Their human-like heads hissed faintly, jaws straining against muzzles of iron.
A vendor raised his voice over the crowd: "Snake men! Hunted from the southern marshes. Each one may carry the Crimson Serpent's Fang, an item approved by the City Lord himself as a tournament entry token! Who dares to gamble their luck today?"
The auctioneer's staff struck the boards. "One copper to start!"
Hands shot up immediately. The price climbed fast, coppers turning to silvers as cultivators argued and shoved. The promise of a Crimson Fang was enough to stir frenzy.
Shi Yang watched intently as the first sale concluded. The handlers forced the snake man's jaw open with iron prongs, prying until its teeth gleamed in the sunlight. One by one, they wrenched the fangs free, tossing aside the dull ones with a practiced hand. Each time, the bidder leaned forward in anticipation—only for the helpers to wipe a tooth clean and shake their heads. No crimson gleam. No lingering blood.
"Duds," someone muttered bitterly.
The unlucky buyer's face twisted in frustration as the handlers displayed the worthless pile of ivory. The crowd roared with both laughter and scorn, though a few eyes only burned hotter, ready to stake their silver on the next gamble.
Han Jie's lips parted slightly. "So that's how it is…" She glanced at Shi Yang, her voice low. "It's no different from rock gambling. Most are worthless, but if a true Crimson Fang turns up, it could change everything."
Shi Yang's eyes narrowed. The thought slotted into place like a blade sliding home. Dangerous, costly, uncertain—yet the rewards were real. "No wonder the market's boiling over."
The auctioneer raised his staff again. "Next one up! Do I hear two silver to start?"
Excitement surged through the crowd once more, voices overlapping as cultivators readied their bids.
Han Jie leaned closer, her expression half-mischief, half-concern. "Well, brother Shi… shall we test our luck?"
Shi Yang smiled. "I have twenty-four silver on me." He slapped her through her pants and then grasped a fistful of her rear. "Make it count," he said, pulling her closer.
She smiled and raised her hand. "Two silver," she called through the crowd, her arm raised high.
"Two silver, do I hear three silver?" the auctioneer asked. "Three silver, anyone? Three silv—"
"Four silver," a man dolled up in the back said, fanning himself as he held the arm of a muscular practitioner. His eyes flickered to Han Jie's petite figure, and he clicked his tongue in irritation.
The auctioneer's staff rapped sharply against the stage. "Four silver, five copper! Do I hear five?"
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. That amount could have bought a courtyard, or several months of comfort for a common family. Yet in the frenzy of potential Crimson Fangs, silver flowed like water.
Han Jie's chin lifted proudly as she raised her hand higher. Her voice rang clear, almost musical. "Five silver."
The man in the back snorted, his fan snapping shut with a crack. His silk robes shimmered faintly, the sign of a wealthier patron, though his own aura was thin and soft. His masculine companion stood behind him—tall, broad-shouldered, the qi of a martial cultivator humming faintly beneath his skin.
"Six silver," the man called, his voice sharp as he glanced sideways at Han Jie. "Little sparrow, your wings aren't strong enough to fly this high."
A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd, and Shi Yang felt Han Jie stiffen beside him. She didn't hesitate. "Seven silver."
The auctioneer's voice grew feverish. "Seven silver! Do I hear eight?"
The fan-wielding man clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. "Eight and five copper."
Han Jie raised her hand again, eyes blazing. "Nine silver."
The crowd erupted with noise—half in awe, half in disbelief. Shi Yang smirked faintly; he had told her to make it count.
The man in silk fanned himself slowly, his gaze sliding past Han Jie to Shi Yang. A smile curved his lips, but it was sharp and cold. He murmured something low, and the muscular cultivator at his side stepped forward, breaking through the crowd like a bull.
The man's shadow fell over Shi Yang. His hand reached out, thick fingers gripping Shi Yang's shoulder with force meant to bruise. His voice rumbled low. "Best call off your lover, boy. If they keep raising their hand, you'll regret it."
Han Jie's expression shifted instantly—her playful warmth freezing into something deadly. The pins in her hair glimmered, catching a faint shimmer of light as though the air itself bent around her intent.
Her pupils thinned, vision sharpening with a subtle shift—like a veil being torn away. For a breath, the world before her turned translucent, lines of Qi threading through the cultivator's body in luminous rivers. She focused, and sparks flickered across her gaze, a faint electric shimmer dancing at the edge of sight. The current lashed outward, invisible yet merciless, seizing the man's Qi flow and locking his limbs as if chains had coiled around his bones.
In one smooth motion, her hand flicked.
A sharp crack split the air. The hairpin buried itself in the martial cultivator's throat before he could even tighten his grip. His eyes went wide, blood bubbling at his lips as he staggered, hands clawing weakly at the steel jutting from his neck. Then he collapsed face-first into the dust, lifeless.
The crowd gasped, a few stumbling back in shock. But Han Jie merely smoothed her sleeve, her face unreadable, and stepped closer to Shi Yang. With casual ease, she took his hand and draped it across her shoulder, as though nothing had happened.
Her other hand lifted, steady, her voice like silk and steel intertwined. "Ten silver."
The auctioneer faltered only a heartbeat before slamming his staff down. "Ten silver bid! Do I hear eleven?"
The fan-wielding man's face had drained of color, his eyes darting between his dead companion and Han Jie's calm expression. His lips trembled, but no sound came. He sat back heavily, fan limp in his hand.
Han Jie's gaze flicked toward him, her eyes curved like crescent moons, smiling yet merciless. "Didn't think so."
The auctioneer slammed his staff again. "Ten silver—sold!"
The handlers moved toward the bound snake man, iron prongs forcing its mouth open as they prepared to wrench free the fangs. The crowd's attention shifted back to the stage, their whispers buzzing like a hive.
Han Jie leaned into Shi Yang's side, her voice dropping low and intimate, though her eyes still glimmered with sharp light. "See? Easy. Now let's see if fortune likes us today."