The Eternal Life Trade Hall was renowned throughout the Land of Eternal Life not only for its safety and reliability, where one could trade for anything desired, but also for its exceptional service.
In the Land of Eternal Life, aside from various dojos, few offered attentive service. Most visitors were focused on seeking the Dao, and who would waste time in the service industry for meager cultivation resources? Moreover, cultivators often guarded their secrets, wary of overly attentive care.
The Eternal Life Trade Hall was different. For common items, one could stay in the first-floor hall, browsing the scrolling screen. Spotting something, you could reserve it from your seat and negotiate with the owner.
For rarer items, you could book a private booth—absolutely secure, with random teleportation. Once the trade was complete, you could teleport away, and no one, not even the Trade Hall, knew your destination.
For those with exceptional items unafraid of exposure, the top floor’s luxurious guest hall offered dedicated attendants to explain details and negotiate prices on your behalf.
Lan Xiaobu thought the private booth suited him best, but when he saw the cost—1,000 Dao crystals per night—he inwardly cursed the exorbitant price.
He had just over 6,000 Dao crystals, all thanks to Jin Hua. At that moment, Lan Xiaobu felt a grudging gratitude toward Jin Hua. Without his identity, Dao vein, and crystals, Lan Xiaobu would be penniless in the Land of Eternal Life. In his eyes, Jin Hua was practically a charity worker.
The Trade Hall required a minimum three-night stay, costing 3,000 Dao crystals upfront. The only upside was no deposit was needed, or his 6,000 crystals might not have sufficed.
The greatest advantage here was confidentiality. Lan Xiaobu wasn’t sure if the traders’ identities were truly hidden from the Trade Hall itself, but he suspected they were.
No cultivator surviving in the Land of Eternal Life was a fool. If the Trade Hall operated duplicitously, it would eventually be exposed. Founded by three Creation Sages, even if they were close allies, it was unlikely they’d risk such deception. Could Creation Sages, however close, truly act in perfect unison? Lan Xiaobu doubted it.
Besides, a heaven-opening treasure had been traded here. Trading something like the Light Dao Scroll didn’t seem extraordinary.
Though confident the Trade Hall wouldn’t double-deal, Lan Xiaobu still set up his own random teleportation array in his booth.
If even that was blocked, he had a final trump card: the Seven Realm Stone. It could break through any void domain, and even a Creation Sage’s domain likely couldn’t trap it.
With preparations complete, Lan Xiaobu began listing his trade items on the booth’s trading screen. He was tempted to list heaven-opening scrolls like Destruction, Karma, Reincarnation, Time, and Severing but restrained himself.
If he did, even an honest establishment might turn predatory. Besides, he had no intention of trading Destruction or Severing scrolls.
So, he wrote cryptically: “I possess one heaven-opening scroll and two innate treasures, one being the Book of Life and Death. Additionally, I have Five-Needle Pine Dao Fruits, complete with all five elements. I seek to trade for the Light Dao Scroll or items related to Light Dao laws, including but not limited to the Light Tree. Items below the level of Light Tree fragments or the Light Dao Scroll but containing partial Light Dao laws need not apply.”
After writing, he added, “Perhaps the heaven-opening scroll you seek is the one I hold? Trade with me for a chance at your Dao.”
While he didn’t dare list all his heaven-opening treasures, he couldn’t list nothing. Without bait, no one would offer truly valuable items.
The Eternal Life Trade Hall was among the liveliest spots in the Creation Market, as countless sages seeking Dao opportunities flocked here. It was packed daily.
But today, explosive news spread: a big spender had arrived.
Why a big spender? Look at what they sought—items on par with the Light Dao Scroll, meaning the Light Dao Scroll, Light Tree, or Light Dao laws. Any of these could birth a Creation Sage.
If they only sought one of these, it’d be a joke—no one would trade such treasures. But the trader offered items no less valuable.
Their trade items? A heaven-opening scroll, unspecified but undeniably significant. Trading one heaven-opening scroll for another—how could that be trivial?
If it were an ordinary innate treasure, it might not matter, as their value varied widely. The best surpassed heaven-opening scrolls, the worst fell below top-grade divine artifacts. But the offered treasure? The Book of Life and Death. In the ranking of innate treasures, it was top ten, arguably more useful than heaven-opening treasures.
And that wasn’t all—Five-Needle Pine Dao Fruits, complete with all five elements. The Five-Needle Pine was one of the ten great spiritual roots of a universe. These fruits were invaluable for proving any Eternal Life realm, be it Creation, Derivation, or Sagehood.
With such treasures on offer, people—whether they held Light Dao-level items or not—flooded the Trade Hall. Not just from the Creation Market, but from beyond, even those knowing they couldn’t witness the trade came to join the excitement.
In his booth, Lan Xiaobu sensed the growing crowd and felt uneasy. Ordinary cultivators were fine, but Creation Sages were no joke.
He began layering shielding arrays, sealing his booth so no divine sense could penetrate.
To his relief, the Trade Hall lived up to its reputation. A full day passed without any divine sense probing his booth. Whether rules forbade it or not, the absence of probes suggested the authorities weren’t prying into his identity.
The second day passed with no trade offers, but the crowd grew larger.
Lan Xiaobu had planned to stay six days, but the frenzy made him reconsider. He decided to leave after three days. If no one traded by then, his plan had failed.
With news spreading so fast, anyone interested would hear within a day, let alone three.
Halfway through the third day, the Creation Market needed officials to maintain order, yet still no one approached for a trade. Lan Xiaobu sighed, preparing to leave via his own teleportation array, not the booth’s, wary of where it might lead.
Just then, the booth’s bidding screen flickered, and an offer appeared: “I can trade. I have what you need. I need to know which heaven-opening scroll you have.”
Lan Xiaobu’s heart leaped. Only someone with one of his listed items—Light Dao Scroll, Light Tree, or Light Dao laws—could inquire. This person’s offer meant they had at least one.
He quickly typed, “To avoid trouble, I wasn’t fully honest. My heaven-opening scroll isn’t one but two. I need to know which scroll you seek. You can set it so I can’t bid if I lack it.”
After sending, he waited anxiously. After a long pause, the screen displayed, “I need the Space Dao Scroll.”
Lan Xiaobu froze. He had no Space Dao Scroll, only the Time Dao Scroll. Though he’d proven the Space Dao, it was via a space array disc.
Of all things, this was his fear. The Light Dao was within reach, yet he couldn’t grasp it.
