Cultivation: I Can Steal Lifespan from Spirit Beasts

Chapter 155: Golden River Ghost Market

Li Three Bays.

It was an unremarkable little town, earning its name from the Golden Billow River that snaked through the region in three distinct, sweeping bends.

Wang Ba kept his cultivator aura tightly restrained as he strolled through the streets. The geography and local customs of the State of Yan were a stark contrast to the State of Chen. Here, a vast network of waterways crisscrossed the land. Sculling boats drifted idly down the canals, steered by young women native to the river towns. The entire region breathed with the damp, vibrant life of the southern marshlands.

This was his strongest impression upon entering the town. Compared to the stagnant longevity of cultivators, the relentless march of time left a much more vivid mark on these mortals. Their lives were fleeting, yet steeped in a rich, bustling vitality.

After wandering for a while, a subtle ripple in his Divine Sense drew his attention. He paused before a lively butcher’s stall.

“You’re a new face around here, brother. Looking for a couple pounds of lean cut, or…”

The bearded butcher’s voice trailed off. Still clutching his cleaver, he seemed to sense an invisible weight in the air. He snapped his gaze to Wang Ba, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features. The warm, mercantile grin vanished, hardening into a mask of wary calculation.

He hesitated, the blade lowering slightly, before he grunted, “…Friend, let’s take this to the backyard.”

“Lead the way,” Wang Ba replied mildly.

Unfazed, Wang Ba followed the man into a quiet courtyard shaded by flourishing peach trees.

As soon as the gate closed, the butcher dropped his mortal facade. He took a subtle half-step back, creating a safe distance, and brought his hands together in a crisp, practiced cultivator’s salute—a sharp contrast to his clumsy, blood-stained appearance.

“I am Wu Hai,” he declared, his voice thick and commanding. “Fellow Daoist, what brings you to my door? Do you have business with me?”

Simultaneously, the peach trees flanking the yard rustled, their branches swaying in an unnatural rhythm. Spiritual energy threaded between their trunks, dimly linking together to form a Formation.

However, even to Wang Ba’s untrained eye, the array was riddled with glaring flaws. He gauged its shifting spiritual currents and deduced it was a simple confusion array. Its power? At best, a first-tier, Low Grade Formation.

Still, it perfectly matched the butcher’s meager cultivation. Through his superior perception, Wang Ba could see the faint glow of Qi pooling in Wu Hai’s Dantian. Its intensity hovered pitifully around the first or second layer of Qi Refining.

It was weak. Incredibly weak.

But Wang Ba had to admit—standing here in front of this weakling made him feel incredibly secure.

He raised a hand in a polite greeting, opening his mouth to speak.

Instantly, the imposing Wu Hai flinched, taking another wary step backward. Realizing his panicked reaction had completely shattered his intimidating front, the butcher forced an awkward, strained smile.

“Ahem. Forgive me, Fellow Daoist. Recently, demonic cultivators have been hunting us Rogue Cultivators to harvest our essence. I’m a bit on edge.”

Wang Ba glanced at the man’s ox-like physique and the thick tufts of chest hair spilling from his unkempt robes. A complicated feeling welled up inside him.

If the demonic cultivators are resorting to harvesting this guy…

It seemed times were tough for both evil practitioners and Rogue Cultivators in the State of Yan.

Feigning a look of deep understanding, Wang Ba deliberately took a few steps back to ease the man’s tension.

“I am Shen Fu,” he introduced smoothly, using his alias. “A cultivator from the State of Song. I’ve been traveling south along the Golden Billow River, wandering the world to temper my Dao heart. Unfortunately, I’ve run short on cultivation resources, so I specifically came ashore hoping to barter with the local cultivators.”

“People actually cultivate like that?” Wu Hai blinked in surprise, though the wariness quickly returned to his eyes. He shook his head dismissively. “Well, I’m only at the second layer of Qi Refining. I barely scrape by gathering the bloody, murky auras from slaughtering livestock. I’m afraid I have nothing of value to offer you, Fellow Daoist.”

Wang Ba wasn’t offended. It was their first meeting, and paranoia was a Rogue Cultivator’s best shield. Besides, he hadn’t actually planned to trade with a mortal butcher.

He maintained his friendly smile. “In that case, Fellow Daoist, might you point me toward a nearby market?”

Wu Hai’s posture immediately stiffened, his guard shooting back up. “There aren’t any.”

He crossed his thick arms. “Li Three Bays is just a mundane town. There are barely two or three of us cultivators here. Why would anyone set up a market in a place like this?”

He’s lying.

Wang Ba could read the defensive shift in the man’s demeanor instantly. There was definitely a market nearby, but pressing the issue verbally would only make the butcher more stubborn.

His mind stirred. Deep within the darkened temple of his Yin Spirit Abode, a single drop of Yin Spirit power ignited, transforming into a brilliant stream of light. A dozen more drops vaporized in rapid succession, fueling the spell.

A fleeting glint of crimson flashed across Wang Ba’s pupils.

Simultaneously, the exact same crimson light mirrored in Wu Hai’s eyes.

A brief spasm of struggle twisted Wu Hai’s rough features, followed by a sudden, slack-jawed pause. When he spoke again, his tone was laced with profound confusion.

“Fellow Daoist… you’re actually acquainted with Brother Zhu?”

Wang Ba had no idea who ‘Brother Zhu’ was. Using the Dream Creation spell—an inspiration drawn from his encounters with Song Buping—he had merely bypassed the man’s mental defenses to plant a single, overarching concept into Wu Hai’s soul: I am the closest friend of the person you trust the most.

He knew absolutely none of the underlying details. Caught off guard, he simply offered a warm, knowing smile and a vague nod of confirmation.

Wu Hai sighed, his previous hostility entirely replaced by exasperation. “Fellow Daoist, if you’re close with Brother Zhu, why are you asking me about the markets? He holds plenty of Ghost Market Market Entry Tokens…”

The butcher paused, then slapped his forehead in realization. “Ah, I get it. Brother Zhu is in Secluded Cultivation again, isn’t he?”

Having no script to work with, Wang Ba just nodded in solemn agreement.

Wu Hai puffed out his chest, his face radiating righteous loyalty. “Say no more, Fellow Daoist Shen! If it were anyone else, my lips would be sealed. But a friend of Brother Zhu is a friend of mine. I’ll make sure you get where you need to go!”

He leaned in closer, a sly, greasy grin breaking through his bravado. “Though, ahem… you know…” He raised a thick hand, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together in the universal gesture for payment.

Wang Ba suppressed an inward sigh and retrieved two Low Grade Spirit Stones from his Storage Bag.

“Oh, you’re too generous! This is far too much!” Wu Hai gasped, his eyes bulging with naked greed. Despite his polite protests, his meaty hands lunged forward, snatching the stones with embarrassing speed.

Caressing the crystalline surface of the spirit stones, Wu Hai grinned from ear to ear. His demeanor shifted from guarded to downright sycophantic. Yet, amidst his joy, a tiny, nagging itch scratched at the back of his mind. Something felt… off. It was as if a glaring contradiction was staring him in the face, but whenever he tried to focus on it, the thought slipped away like water through his fingers.

Wang Ba watched the man with a hidden frown. A cultivator this weak and greedy wouldn’t have access to any high-tier trading hubs. However, this mysterious ‘Brother Zhu’ piqued his interest.

Beguiled by the Dream Creation spell, Wu Hai’s mental vault was wide open. Through a few casual, probing questions, Wang Ba easily extracted everything there was to know about this ‘Brother Zhu.’

His full name was Zhu Jianyi, the disciple of a local Foundation Establishment Rogue Cultivator. According to Wu Hai, Zhu Jianyi possessed deep pockets, formidable strength, and an extensive web of connections. He was the mastermind behind several Qi Refining realm Ghost Markets and had allegedly earned invitations to far more exclusive, high-level underground exchanges, granting him a stash of Market Entry Tokens.

Wu Hai had only spoken to the man a handful of times at a local gathering, but the encounter had left him completely starstruck.

To think the person this butcher idolizes and trusts the most is an elite cultivator he barely knows, Wang Ba mused, shaking his head inwardly. While he marveled at the absurdity of Wu Hai’s one-sided admiration, he was quietly terrified by the sheer insidious power of his Dream Creation spell.

A victim implanted with a foreign thought operated entirely on dream-logic. Their mind would actively patch over glaring plot holes to protect the implanted narrative. For instance, Wang Ba had explicitly claimed he was a foreign cultivator from the State of Song just moments prior. Yet, Wu Hai’s brain effortlessly deleted that contradiction, retroactively weaving Wang Ba’s presence into Zhu Jianyi’s backstory.

When confronted with the illogical fact that Zhu Jianyi’s ‘close friend’ had to ask a random butcher for market directions, Wu Hai’s mind conveniently invented the excuse that Zhu Jianyi was in Secluded Cultivation to make it all make sense.

The ‘dream’ was a cognitive quagmire. It swallowed the victim’s rational consciousness whole, leaving them blissfully unaware of their own manipulation.

Of course, the spell had its limits. If Wu Hai possessed a stronger Divine Sense, or if he had fortified his mental defenses beforehand, the illusion would have shattered upon contact. Feeling a stroke of luck, Wang Ba made a mental note to construct tighter, less contradictory lies in the future.

“Don’t worry, Fellow Daoist Shen!” Wu Hai patted Wang Ba’s shoulder, misinterpreting his silence as doubt. “The Ghost Market near Golden River City won’t open for another few days anyway. You don’t even need a Market Entry Token for this one. With me vouching for you, we’ll walk right in.”

“I’m in no rush. I leave it in your capable hands, Fellow Daoist,” Wang Ba replied with a gracious smile.

Hidden beneath his calm exterior, he quietly burned another chunk of his Yin Spirit power to extend the duration of the Dream Creation. A sharp pang of heartache accompanied the loss—Yin Spirit power took an agonizingly long time to replenish.

With the butcher thoroughly pacified, Wang Ba settled comfortably into Li Three Bays to wait. He spent the downtime cultivating, drawing upon the concentrated essence of Spirit Poultry and his spirit turtles. Thanks to his diligent hoarding over the years, his reserves were still quite robust.

Several days later.

Wang Ba shadowed Wu Hai as they departed Li Three Bays, sprinting silently along the banks of the Golden Billow River. They covered dozens of miles before the butcher finally skidded to a halt near a stretch where the churning rapids smoothed into a glassy, tranquil surface.

To Wang Ba’s mild surprise, Wu Hai reached into his sleeve and fished out a crumpled, dog-eared slip of yellow paper. He looked at it as if he were holding a piece of his own flesh.

It was a Water-Avoidance Talisman. Wang Ba easily identified the faint runic script.

Gritting his teeth, Wu Hai hurled the talisman into the river. The water violently convulsed. An invisible, heavy force sheared down from the sky, carving a dry, circular shaft straight through the heart of the river.

“Hurry! This Talisman is cheap, it won’t hold for long!” Wu Hai roared over the rushing water, diving headfirst into the dry abyss.

Wang Ba swept the area with his Divine Sense. Keeping the power of his Azure Water Spirit Turtle primed and ready within him, he leaped into the shaft.

Truthfully, with his current Qi, he could have effortlessly parted the river himself, or commanded his spirit turtle to carve a permanent tunnel. But displaying such overwhelming power in front of a Qi Refining peon was entirely inappropriate for a ‘wandering merchant’.

They plummeted through the unnatural corridor, walls of churning water rising on either side. Silver fish and translucent shrimp darted past them, suspended in the liquid walls.

A moment later, their boots struck the riverbed.

Wu Hai’s feeble Qi offered zero protection; he instantly sank ankle-deep into the freezing, foul-smelling muck. Wang Ba, conversely, landed with a feather-light step, his robes remaining immaculately clean.

Straight ahead, carved into the bedrock of the river, was a dark cavern entrance. A shimmering, semi-permeable membrane of water sealed the tunnel.

“Let’s go!” Wu Hai pushed through the watery membrane, vanishing into the cave.

Wang Ba paused for a fraction of a second, analyzing the barrier, before stepping through after him.

He emerged into an entirely different world.

The natural cavern had been massively excavated, transforming it into a sprawling subterranean hall. Clusters of luminescent moss, embedded night pearls, and hundreds of flickering candles clung to the stalactites, bathing the subterranean space in an uncanny, artificial daylight.

Scattered across the stone floor were a handful of cultivators. Near the entrance stood two imposing figures radiating the aura of the sixth or seventh layer of Qi Refining—undoubtedly the muscle managing this underground bazaar.

Further in, a few ragged cultivators were already busy unloading mundane artifacts and herbs from their Storage Bags, arranging their meager wares on tattered cloths.

It seemed Wang Ba and Wu Hai had arrived before the main crowd.

A few of the vendors shot Wu Hai a brief nod of recognition. However, their gazes instantly sharpened when they landed on Wang Ba. An unfamiliar face in a Rogue Cultivator market was always a potential threat.

But noticing how comfortably Wu Hai stood beside the stranger, they swallowed their questions and returned to their wares.

“This is the very spot where I first met Brother Zhu,” Wu Hai whispered, his voice tinged with reverence. “He used to be one of the organizers here, though he rarely graces us with his presence these days.”

With that, the butcher marched over to a nearby stall. He spent an agonizing ten minutes haggling with a vendor before finally, with great reluctance, snapping a Spirit Stone in half to purchase a brand-new slip of yellow paper.

Wang Ba glanced over. It was another Water-Avoidance Talisman. He needed a new one just to get back out.

“Take a look around, Fellow Daoist Shen. You might find some useful materials,” Wu Hai suggested proudly.

Wang Ba nodded. Having never visited a grassroots Rogue Cultivator exchange before, he was genuinely curious to see the bottom rung of the cultivation world’s economy.

Sadly, his curiosity was swiftly met with profound disappointment. After a quick lap around the cavern, he confirmed that these Rogue Cultivators possessed absolutely nothing of value. It was a collection of chipped blades, half-rotten spiritual herbs, and miswritten talismans.

Sighing, Wang Ba picked up a low-quality jade slip containing a basic first-tier technique, preparing to place it back down, when Wu Hai’s voice suddenly cracked with sheer shock and elation.

“Brother Zhu!”