Wen Shuangbai had gone seven days without sleep. After settling her senior brother's affairs, she slept the longest stretch since transmigrating into this book.
She woke at dusk, the brilliant sunset outside her window casting such a warm glow that for a fleeting moment, Wen Shuangbai thought she had returned to the days when her parents were still alive.
Back then, she would often nap through weekend afternoons until evening, waiting for her parents to call her for dinner.
Later, after her father was diagnosed with a brain tumor and the weight of medical expenses fell upon her, Wen Shuangbai never had such leisurely afternoons again.
Lost in the long stretch of memories, she stretched lazily, squinting against the fading light, and picked up the Mystic Heaven Mirror beside her. There was a sect notice—written in neat script—announcing that the Qingling Mountain's secret realm would open in seven days, marking the official start of the second round of trials.
Below was a lengthy list of rules and precautions.
Wen Shuangbai read every word carefully.
The second round required disciples from all pavilions to participate, forming teams of one to six members. The final ranking would be determined by combining the results of both rounds.
For example, if Wen Shuangbai ranked sixth in the first round and first in the second, her total score would be seven. If all other disciples in the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion scored higher than seven, she would take first place—and with it, the prize of thirty thousand spirit stones.
The second round was, in truth, the most crucial.
The team-based scoring system offered a major chance for a comeback. If a six-member team took first place, all six would receive a score of one, while the next team would start at seven.
In the original novel, Yu Xiaoxiao’s protagonist group had turned their defeat into victory in this very round, stunning everyone.
Clearly, this trial tested teamwork—from forming alliances beforehand to coordinating during the competition.
Of course, if someone was strong enough, they could always go solo.
Wen Shuangbai had long understood the general structure and had been planning her team for a while.
Her senior brother was part of it. So was Shen Hefeng.
She wondered if Shen Hefeng had managed to obtain the Divine Wood Talisman during the Ningyuan Mountain expedition.
After some deliberation, she took advantage of dinner hour to treat her junior sister to a meal at the dining hall. Before parting, she asked the girl to pack a portion for her still-sleeping senior brother, then made her way to the Inquiry Pavilion to look for Shen Hefeng.
But she was told he wasn’t in the sect.
"Are you Wen Shuangbai?" The disciple eyed her uncertainly.
She nodded. "I am."
"Ah, Senior Brother Shen left instructions." The disciple recited stiffly, "He said if you came looking, to meet him at the Hundred Ghost Tower."
The Hundred Ghost Tower—Qingzhou’s infamous ghost market—opened at nightfall and closed at dawn, a chaotic place where anything and everything was sold. Many cultivators frequented it in search of rare goods.
Having transmigrated long ago, Wen Shuangbai had always wanted to visit. But she had been too busy preparing for the trials. Now, the timing was perfect.
Coincidentally, she had run out of crafting materials, leaving several artifact commissions unfinished. A skilled artisan couldn’t work without materials, after all.
With a smile, she cupped her hands in thanks. "Understood. I appreciate the message."
—
The Hundred Ghost Tower stood in the southern district of Qingzhou City.
Ancient locust trees loomed at its entrance, their dense canopies blotting out the moonlight, casting the surroundings in an eerie gloom.
From the foremost tree hung rows of black hooded cloaks, swaying like a colony of bats in the distance.
Wen Shuangbai grabbed one and slipped it on. The moment she stepped inside, the scene before her transformed—noises and voices rushed at her from all directions.
"Qingling Mountain’s Taihua Secret Realm terrain maps! Drawn by a senior disciple last year, guaranteed authentic! Only fifty spirit stones per copy!"
"Taihua Mountain beast compendium! Hand-drawn by a senior sister, guaranteed real! Thirty spirit stones!"
"Taihua Sword Sect disciple here! Our team already has four members! Seeking two more who ranked between thirty and fifty in the first round! Payment negotiable! Daily rates available!"
"…"
Wen Shuangbai gaped.
People were hiring teammates for the trials?
Curious, she approached the sword cultivator and whispered, "How much for someone in the top ten?"
If the price was right, she might consider selling herself and her senior brother as a package deal.
The disciple startled, then bowed respectfully. "You—you’re in the top ten?"
Though the hood concealed her appearance and altered her voice, Wen Shuangbai played it safe. "No, but a friend of mine is. He asked me to inquire."
"I see." The disciple remained polite but sounded troubled. "We’d love to have a top-ten senior join, but… the highest we can offer is three hundred spirit stones per day…"
The trial would last half a month. Three hundred a day meant four thousand five hundred total.
Not worth it.
Disappointed, Wen Shuangbai nodded. "Understood. Best of luck in the rankings."
The disciple returned the gesture. "To your friend as well."
The Hundred Ghost Tower was massive—seven stories high.
Given the break between trials, Wen Shuangbai guessed many Qingling Mountain disciples were browsing, judging by the sheer number of stalls hawking Taihua Secret Realm-related goods.
Most of it was useless.
She remembered the novel’s description—Taihua Secret Realm wasn’t a mountain but a pocket dimension formed by the sect’s treasure, the Taihua Stone. The terrain shifted constantly. Navigating it required either blind luck or a diviner’s guidance.
Which was why she needed Shen Hefeng.
But the tower was crowded, and she couldn’t spot him. Passing a few stalls selling crafting materials, she paused. "Madam, how much for Frostthread Silk?"
The vendor held up her pinky. "One finger-length for one-twenty."
Wen Shuangbai: "…"
Regular shops sold it for one-fifty per finger-length. She’d expected the ghost market to be cheaper—this was barely a discount!
Feeling cheated, she turned to leave.
The vendor hastily grabbed her sleeve. "Ah-ah-ah, why leave so soon? I didn’t say it was fixed! The price is negotiable, little miss. Name your offer."
Wen Shuangbai eyed her, smiling sweetly. "How about sixty?"
The vendor: "…"
She’d thought this one would be easy to fool. Instead, she’d met a ruthless haggler.
"That’s impossible! Eighty, alright? Lowest I can go. I’m practically selling at a loss!"
Wen Shuangbai feigned concern. "Oh no, I couldn’t possibly let you lose money. If I don’t buy, you won’t lose anything."
The vendor: "…"
After several rounds, the woman finally relented. Wen Shuangbai paid two hundred spirit stones for four finger-lengths of Frostthread Silk.
As the vendor packed the silk, grumbling, "Little miss, in all my years here, I’ve never sold at such a low price…"
Wen Shuangbai patted her shoulder. "There’s a first time for everything. You’ll get used to it."
The vendor: "???" Was this girl even human?
Wen Shuangbai added, "By the way, madam, what do you do with failed artifacts?"
Previously lacking materials for artifact refinement, Wen Shuangbai had considered scavenging for discarded magical tools. With the Yao Ling Heart Technique, she could turn waste into treasure without spending a single spirit stone.
Yet, to her frustration, she hadn’t found a single one.
Later, she learned that all discarded artifacts were sent to the Xuan Yan Furnace at the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion to be incinerated. However, the senior disciples managing the furnace paid her no mind. Unable to get answers and preoccupied with her own tasks, she had no choice but to drop the matter for now.
The shopkeeper gave her a sidelong glance, assuming Wen Shuangbai was a novice artifact-refining disciple, and explained, "Normally, we store them at home, and someone comes to collect them monthly." At this, the shopkeeper spat in annoyance, "You know what? The scrap collectors raised their prices again! It used to be ten spirit stones for a hundred catties, but now it’s thirteen!"
Wen Shuangbai’s eyes, hidden beneath her hood, brightened. "You have to pay them to take your scrap?"
So there was such a profitable opportunity?
"Of course," the shopkeeper replied, handing her a roll of Thousand Ice Silk. "Now you see how tough our business is? We pay for stock, we pay to dispose of scrap—everything costs money!"
Wen Shuangbai asked, "Can’t you just throw them away?"
"Absolutely not!" The shopkeeper lightly flicked Wen Shuangbai’s forehead, chiding, "Who’s been teaching you artifact refinement? Discarded tools still carry residual spell formations. Tossing them carelessly could harm passersby. Worse, if left unchecked, they might accumulate dark energy and turn into malevolent objects. That’s why all scrap must be sent to the Xuan Yan Furnace for incineration. Here in Qingzhou, there are only two places with such furnaces: the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion on Qingling Mountain, reserved for their disciples, and the Bai Family. Our scrap is collected by the Bai Family’s people."
So that was how it worked.
Most of the memories left by the original host revolved around winning Xie Ziyin’s affection, with the rest dedicated to mingling with noble heirs. There was barely any useful knowledge about cultivation, and her neglectful father had never taught her either.
"Listen, I feel like we’ve really hit it off, sister," Wen Shuangbai said enticingly. "How about we discuss another business deal?"
The shopkeeper’s heart skipped a beat. Part of her feared being swindled again, but her curiosity won out. "Go on, let’s hear it."
"To be honest, I’m a new disciple at Qingling Mountain," Wen Shuangbai confessed. "I have access to our sect’s Xuan Yan Furnace. From now on, I’ll collect your scrap for ten spirit stones per hundred catties. What do you say?"
The shopkeeper was tempted, but her merchant’s instincts made her wary. "Wouldn’t a Qingling Mountain disciple make more money refining and selling artifacts than collecting scrap?"
Without missing a beat, Wen Shuangbai lied, "I haven’t learned refinement yet. My family’s poor, and I’m desperate for coin. This is just a temporary way to earn some."
After some thought, the shopkeeper agreed. "Fine, it’s a deal."
Wen Shuangbai, ever the strategist, pressed further. "Sister, if you know other merchants in the same trade, you could gather their scrap too. I’ll collect it all from you at ten spirit stones per hundred catties, and whatever you charge them is your business. How does that sound?"
She could have gone door-to-door herself, but maintaining client relationships and regular collections would eat up her time—time better spent on more valuable pursuits. Letting the shopkeeper act as a middleman was a win-win.
Plus, staying low-profile was wise.
The elder who’d taught her the Yao Ling Heart Technique had vanished without a trace. Wen Shuangbai had a nagging feeling the technique was anything but ordinary, so she kept her ability to dismantle artifacts a secret.
Pleased with the arrangement, the shopkeeper happily agreed, and the two promptly added each other on the Mystic Heaven Mirror.
—
With one major worry resolved—no more scarcity of refinement materials—Wen Shuangbai strolled cheerfully toward the fortune-telling district. Finding no sign of Shen Hefeng, she decided to loiter nearby and wait.
Beside her was a medicinal herb stall, where a slightly short man was haggling.
"How much for a stalk of Crystal Feather Grass?"
"Five hundred twenty."
"How about two hundred?"
Wen Shuangbai’s lips twitched. This guy bargained even harder than she did! But his offer was so low it’d likely backfire. She guessed the vendor’s bottom line was around two hundred forty.
Sure enough, the stall owner’s face darkened. "Are you here to cause trouble? Get lost! Don’t block my business!"
After a brief exchange of insults, the man left.
Leaning against a pillar, Wen Shuangbai sat cross-legged, quietly circulating the Yao Ling Heart Technique while keeping an eye out for Shen Hefeng.
By her third cycle of cultivation, customers had come and gone. Then a lanky boy approached—his face obscured, but his demeanor screamed spoiled young master from a wealthy family.
"Hey, how much for the Crystal Feather Grass?"
Recognizing his privileged air, the vendor smirked. "Six hundred twenty per stalk."
The boy’s voice sharpened. "Six hundred twenty? You think I’m an easy mark?!"
The vendor backpedaled. "Well, I could lower it… How about five hundred twenty?"
"You rotten cheat, playing favorites, huh?" The boy rolled up his sleeves as if ready to smash the stall, but after a glance somewhere in the distance, he restrained himself. "One seventy. Take it or leave it."
The vendor flushed with anger. "Someone just offered two hundred, and I refused!"
"I don’t care what others offered! Your grass looks half-dead anyway—it’s only worth one seventy!"
After a heated argument, the young master stormed off, cursing.
Wen Shuangbai narrowed her eyes. There was something familiar about that boy… Had she seen him before?
She resumed her cultivation, sensing the drama wasn’t over.
About an incense stick’s time later, a tall, slender man ambled over.
His steps were leisurely as he idly browsed the stall’s wares.
The vendor scrambled to his feet, his earlier bravado shrinking under the man’s presence. "What would you like, young master?"
The man’s tone was indifferent. "Just looking."
The vendor grew nervous. Something about the man’s gaze felt piercing, as if it could slice through lies.
This one’s no ordinary customer, the vendor thought, sweating. "Of course, take your time. Let me know if you need anything."
The man pointed at the Crystal Feather Grass. Without asking the price, he said, "Two hundred thirty per stalk. Deal?"
The vendor’s heart clenched. Wiping his brow, he realized this man wasn’t to be trifled with.
His absolute minimum was two hundred forty, but after the earlier hagglers, he was too exhausted to bargain further.
Defeated, he nodded. "For you, young master, I’ll sell at that price today."
Wen Shuangbai: "…"
Damn.
It hit her—the brat from earlier was Xie Ziyin’s lackey!
And the mastermind behind this scheme, now buying the grass at a bargain?
No need to guess who.
What a dirty trick! What a cunning man!
