After Mo Fan paid the spirit stones and stepped back into the dilapidated temple, the scene before him transformed entirely.
The market’s appearance astonished him. It wasn’t the courtyard he had seen earlier but a vast underground space. If not for the cavernous ceiling above, it could have been mistaken for a valley—an underground valley!
Within the valley stood numerous tall pavilions and countless stalls. The wandering cultivators who had been waiting outside now entered the market, setting up stalls along the pathways.
As these cultivators set up, two red-robed female cultivators appeared. Mo Fan noticed their robes matched the style and material of the clothes worn by the two child attendants at the entrance. Clearly, these women were also part of the market’s management.
Their purpose was simple: collecting stall fees. This amused Mo Fan, who found it oddly familiar. He’d encountered such roles in his previous life, and seeing them in this cultivation world added a novel twist.
He observed that each stall paid two spirit stones, or a low-grade spiritual plant if they lacked stones.
But as Mo Fan’s gaze swept over the hundred or so stalls in the valley, he asked in surprise, “There didn’t seem to be this many people outside earlier, were there?”
“Exactly,” Lu Tantan nodded, pointing to a tall building nearby with a grin. “Look, this place has everything! Not just buying and selling, but relaxation too. There are even brothels and inns, so most people who come here get so caught up they won’t leave until they’ve spent all their spirit stones.”
Mo Fan was stunned, following Lu Tantan’s gesture. Sure enough, a building in the distance had large red lanterns hanging, with heavily made-up women at the balcony railing calling out to customers.
“There’s even a pleasure house in this market?” Mo Fan exclaimed, then asked, “Are these women cultivators too?”
“Of course! Not just human cultivators, but some pretty spicy female demons too!” Lu Tantan said with a sleazy grin. “Alright, I’m off to have some fun. You browse around. We’ll meet here when the bell rings!”
“When the bell rings?” Mo Fan frowned, not quite understanding, but before he could ask, Lu Tantan had already scampered off.
With no choice, Mo Fan shook his head helplessly and began wandering among the stalls.
“Step right up, don’t miss out! Fresh spiritual ginseng, Yellow-grade quality, a must-have!” a shout rang out as Mo Fan crouched at a miscellaneous goods stall, catching his attention.
Yellow-grade spiritual ginseng? His eyes lit up. That was good stuff!
He hurried over, only to find the stall already crowded. “Where’s the Yellow-grade ginseng? How much?” someone asked directly.
“Sorry, the Yellow-grade ginseng was just bought by another friend, but I’ve still got some low-grade spiritual herbs. Take a look!” The stall owner, a sturdy man in his thirties wearing a straw hat, grinned affably.
“Tch! No Yellow-grade ginseng? What’s there to see!” The questioner snorted and walked away.
Still, many lingered, picking through the herbs. Mo Fan squeezed to the front, noting the stall wasn’t large but held over ten spiritual herbs—mostly common wild ginseng and yellow essence, plus a few unknown spiritual fruits emitting a faint fragrance.
Sensing their spiritual energy, Mo Fan confirmed they were genuine. It was his first time seeing so many spiritual herbs together. “Friend, how much for the herbs on your stall?” he asked.
“Wild ginseng and yellow essence are three low-grade spirit stones each. The Frost Fruits are pricier, five low-grade spirit stones per fruit. Which ones do you want?” The seller beamed enthusiastically.
“The market entry fee is only two low-grade spirit stones or one spiritual herb, yet your herbs cost three spirit stones. Are you trying to scam me?” Mo Fan frowned.
The seller chuckled, sizing Mo Fan up before asking, “Is this your first time at the Broken Temple Market?”
“What’s it to you?” Mo Fan replied, still frowning.
“No offense meant! You seem new here, so you might not know the true value of spiritual herbs. I’m only charging three spirit stones because it’s busy. Outside, low-grade herbs fetch at least five spirit stones. The entry fee is cheaper not because herbs are worthless but because the market master deliberately set it low to let cash-strapped cultivators trade herbs for entry.”
“I see…” After the explanation, Mo Fan understood, realising his mistake. Looking at the stall, he saw six herbs and three Frost Fruits remaining, the rest already sold. Without hesitation, he said, “I’ll take everything on your stall!”
“What?!” The seller, thinking he’d misheard, asked, “You sure you want it all?”
Mo Fan nodded, spitting out thirty-three spirit stones, wrapped in demonic energy, and placed them on the stall.
“Great! You’re a straightforward one!” The seller’s face lit up, sweeping the stones into a palm-sized cloth bag at his waist.
Mo Fan, surprised, asked, “That bag’s impressive. So small, yet it holds so many spirit stones. Is it one of those human magic tools?”
“Exactly. It’s a storage bag, a cultivator’s tool for holding items. But your demon cultivation methods are even better—forming a storage space in your mouth! We cultivators are quite envious,” the seller said with a smile, noting Mo Fan’s demonic nature. Outside, they might have fought, but here, there was no need for violence. He thought this demon seemed wealthy and might buy more next time if they got friendly.
“So it’s called a storage bag. Interesting,” Mo Fan nodded.
“They’re sold here in the market, but they’re pricey—fifty low-grade spirit stones each! Demon cultivators have it easier. Aside from needing to gather spiritual energy, you don’t worry much about resources, and your spells and abilities come naturally,” the seller said enviously.
Mo Fan just smiled, not engaging further. He absorbed the stall’s herbs into his internal space, then clasped his hands. “Thanks for the info. I’m off.”
He turned to leave, wary of getting too close to a stranger, unsure of their intentions.
After visiting several stalls, Mo Fan stopped at one selling talismans. The talismans resembled those of the human scholar Qin Changsheng, though the runes seemed slightly different.
The seller, a young man with thick cloth covering his eyes, appeared blind.
“Friend, did you draw these talismans yourself?” Mo Fan asked.
