The lower district of Hollow City was alive in a way the upper tiers could never be.
Above, among the polished marble streets and hushed courtyards, life moved in a measured, ceremonial rhythm. But down here? It pulsed. It swelled. It laughed and shouted and bargained without shame.
Wooden stalls leaned against each other like old friends, their awnings snapping in the breeze. The air was heavy with smells, burning incense curling in lazy spirals above prayer tables, roasted spirit meat crackling over open flame, the faint medicinal tang of ground herbs drifting from apothecaries. Somewhere to the left, a street performer juggled talismans that trailed harmless streams of fire, earning scattered coins from an amused crowd.
And, of course, there were the sellers of "rare treasures", men and women with smooth tongues and suspiciously cloudy bottles. One man, cheeks red from cheap wine, was loudly swearing to anyone who would listen that the murky liquid in his hands was "dragon tears." The gathered onlookers exchanged knowing glances. If those were dragon tears, then Shen Hao was the Jade Emperor himself.
Shen Hao walked among them with deliberate ease, his black-and-silver mask hiding most of his face, his robes flowing loosely enough to conceal the weight of the items he carried. His steps were unhurried. His gaze roamed without settling too long on anything. He looked for all the world like a man who had come to browse, not buy, though the sharpness in his eyes told another story.
A shadow followed him, unseen by anyone else, a presence just over his shoulder. Lingfeng, his companion in spirit if not in flesh, drifted invisibly at his side. While Lingfeng's voice was silent to the crowd, it was as clear as thought to Shen Hao.
Shen Hao kept his inner tone measured, almost as if speaking to himself: A simple walk. Keep it low profile. Perhaps find a few decent pills. Certainly not here to spend an obscene fortune.
Lingfeng's reply slid in like a dry breeze: Low profile? You? You're glowing like a silk-wrapped lantern. You'd stand out even in a mine shaft.
Shen Hao did not answer aloud. Words wasted on teasing were better spent on bargaining. Instead, his attention settled on a modest alchemy stall tucked between a vendor of charms and a spice merchant. The stall was neat, well-ordered, an unusual sight in the chaos of the market. Rows of jade bottles sat perfectly aligned, each labeled in careful calligraphy.
The stall's owner was quick to notice him. A man in his late twenties, with slicked-back hair and a pair of eyebrows that looked like they had been trained to hold confidence, straightened and stepped forward. His smile was polished, but his eyes were already assessing the masked stranger before him.
"Honored guest," he said warmly, his voice rising just enough to carry over the nearby chatter. "You strike me as a man of refined taste. May I offer you Qi pills? Body-strengthening blends? Or perhaps… something more dangerous?"
Shen Hao's voice was steady, cool. "No danger today. Show me your best."
The merchant's expression brightened. With a showman's care, he began opening jade cases one by one. Thin tendrils of cool mist escaped each time a lid lifted, curling into the air before fading. The pills within came in every shade, crimson, emerald, a pale gold that seemed to catch light from nowhere.
One in particular caught Shen Hao's attention: a violet pill with a faint ember at its heart, as though it held a living flame. He picked it up, feeling the subtle warmth it radiated.
"Fire essence?" Shen Hao asked.
"From the belly of a Skyfire Lizard," the merchant replied without hesitation. "A rare refinement. You won't find its twin in this district."
Shen Hao set the pill back into its case. "Price?"
"Four hundred and fifty thousand credits each," came the smooth answer.
Lingfeng's unseen presence all but winced. For that much, it had better sing lullabies and heal broken hearts.
Shen Hao gave a single nod. "Fair. But I'm looking for something… else."
The merchant's brows knit slightly. "Else?"
"Something you don't advertise," Shen Hao said, his tone dropping to something quieter. "Something rare enough you're not sure what it is."
The man studied him for a heartbeat. Then, with a faint motion, he crouched beneath the counter. Metal scraped against wood as he pulled out a small case, a solid piece of polished steel, the sort of container that spoke of value before it was even opened.
He set it down with the care one might give a relic. His gaze swept the market around them, ensuring no wandering eyes lingered too close. Then, with deliberate slowness, he undid the latches.
The case opened, and the stall seemed to fill with light.
A deep, pulsing violet radiance spilled out, forcing Shen Hao to narrow his eyes against the brilliance. When it faded, what remained within was… odd.
A root, twisted and gnarled, no longer than a man's forearm. Its skin shimmered faintly, as though some light moved beneath it. Cool mist clung to it like breath on a winter's morning, and even here, in the middle of a noisy street, its presence pressed faintly against the senses, not hostile, but undeniable.
The merchant's voice softened, almost reverent. "I found this on a mountain ridge. Just lying there. Glowing. I've shown it to others. No one knows its name."
Shen Hao's gaze lingered on the strange root. It wasn't the kind of curiosity one gave to a curiosity shop trinket, this was sharper, weighted. His instincts whispered that it was no ordinary wild growth, though instinct had been known to lead many cultivators into ruin.
"How much?" he asked at last.
The stall owner's lips curved into the sort of smile that carried both hope and guilt. "Three million credits."
Behind the mask, Shen Hao's eyes widened before he could stop them. Three million, for a root of unknown origin? It could be priceless… or utterly worthless.
Before he could respond, another voice stirred in his mind. Deeper than Lingfeng's, calm and absolute.
Buy it.
It was Mo Han. The tone allowed no argument.
I was just about to--- Shen Hao began.
Buy it, Mo Han repeated, each word weighted like iron.
Shen Hao inhaled once, slowly, and let it out through his nose. The merchant saw only a masked man's silent contemplation. Then, without another word, Shen Hao reached into the small, boundless pocket of his storage ring and produced the credits.
The merchant's eyes gleamed. He took the payment with both hands, the respectful gesture nearly ruined by his inability to hide his delight. "A pleasure doing business with you, honored guest."
Shen Hao gave a small, polite nod, then turned and stepped away from the stall.
On the surface, he moved like a man unconcerned, unhurried, composed. But inside, his mind was already running through every unflattering possibility: Three million credits… for a glowing root I've never seen before. What if it's just some shiny weed? Or poisonous? Or cursed? Or cursed, poisonous, and still just a weed?
He slipped into a narrow side alley, letting the market's noise fade behind him. The walls here were weather-stained, the air cooler in the shade. Leaning lightly against one, he addressed the voice within.
"I didn't bargain, Master," Shen Hao murmured. "I followed your word exactly. Now tell me… I haven't just bought a decorative stick, have I?"
Mo Han's reply was steady, almost patient. "What you hold is the root of a Sky Tree. Sixth Tier."
The title alone carried weight. Shen Hao straightened slightly. "Sky Tree?"
"There are seven known types across the universe," Mo Han said. "From the Seventh Tier, rare, precious, to the First Tier, which is nearly impossible to find. Ancient beings, each tied to potent natural formations. Extremely potent. Extremely valuable."
"And this one?"
"Tier Six roots," Mo Han explained, "are used to forge high-grade weapons, stabilize complex formations, and craft healing elixirs for cultivators at the very peak of their realms. In most cities, they are heavily regulated."
A thought formed, hesitant but urgent. "…How valuable?"
"On the open market," Mo Han said, each syllable precise, "no less than fifteen billion credits."
Shen Hao froze. Even Lingfeng, silent until now, seemed to pause mid-thought.
Fifteen billion. For three million.
Slowly, Shen Hao turned to face the wall again, as though grounding himself in something solid. When he finally spoke, it was a whisper, almost reverent. "I… I just bought a fifteen-billion-credit treasure."
Lingfeng drifted closer, his tone caught between awe and mischief. I think we just committed the cleanest theft in cosmic history.
A quiet smile tugged at the corners of Shen Hao's hidden mouth. "If that merchant ever finds out, he'll cry in six languages."
"Let's hope he never does," Lingfeng replied.
Shen Hao adjusted his robe, the motion calm, precise. "Enough browsing. Time to find Tevalk."
The lower district's chaos gradually thinned as he moved toward the city's edge. The shouts of sellers faded into the hum of ordinary foot traffic. The stone underfoot became smoother, the buildings less haphazard, the people more purposeful.
Near the main gate, a tall figure stood as steady as the walls themselves, Tevalk. Broad-shouldered, arms crossed, his expression carried the weight of someone who treated his post like guarding a vault, even if the door was wide open.
Shen Hao approached without haste. "Busy shift?"
Tevalk glanced over. "Eh. Just people asking if the portal's still warm from the last traveler."
"Good," Shen Hao said. "I need to use it too."
There was a pause. Tevalk turned his head fully, his gaze sharpening. "…What?"
"I'm here to activate the Celestial Nexus Array."
The silence stretched for a beat longer than comfortable. Tevalk leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "You're joking?"
"No," Shen Hao said, tone unchanged.
Tevalk's brow furrowed. "Is this a prank?"
"Not unless someone pranked me with a billion credits and the urge to teleport."
"You had a billion credits this whole time?!" Tevalk demanded.
"Well," Shen Hao said mildly, "now I have less. I just spent three million on a root."
"What?!"
From somewhere unseen, Lingfeng's laughter rippled faintly through Shen Hao's mind.