My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting
Chapter 180 – Turmoil in Northriver Prefecture, A Plump Lamb Enters Ghost Street, Forced Buying and Selling - Part 3

Chapter 180 – Turmoil in Northriver Prefecture, A Plump Lamb Enters Ghost Street, Forced Buying and Selling - Part 3

Little Willow County.

Although Fang Jianlong was a seventh rank cultivator in good physical shape, the behavior of the two women he’d brought was far beyond normal desire. In the heat of passion, he initially chalked it up to their enthusiasm. Only when blood actually appeared on the sheets, yet they still cried out for more, did he realize something was horribly wrong.

Shaken, he leapt up from the bed. But the two women remained in a near-frenzied state, still tangled in lust. Fang Jianlong tried to shake them out of it, but they only giggled, their eyes unfocused.

He hurried toward the door, intending to call for help. But suddenly, the songstress and the dancer began shrieking vicious words at each other.

“All I do is dance for you, hidden behind that sheer veil, while you collect extra money from lecherous customers who pay for a glimpse. Why should you get the better deal?!”

“And why not? It’s because I have real talent! All you can do is sway your hips in a see-through gown. Who couldn’t do that? Playing music requires true skill!”

“You wretch! I’ll kill you!”

“Oh, I’m trembling. Try it!”

Eyes wide, Fang Jianlong snatched back his hand from the door and rushed to separate them. “Hey! What the hell’s gotten into you two?!”

They ignored him entirely, continuing to shriek and curse, eyes glinting with murderous rage. Blood still trickled from their wounds, but even that didn’t break them out of their hateful frenzy.

Sensing that something was horribly wrong, Fang Jianlong tried to separate the two women. But the very same songstress and dancer who had been all smiles and harmony the day before now wanted nothing more than to kill each other. Acting on instinct, he applied just enough force to knock them unconscious. After settling them on the bed, he rushed outside.

Chaos had overtaken the inn. Some people seemed lucid, while others looked insane.

As Fang Jianlong hurried along the corridor, he spotted one of his own outer disciples, Xiao Jian, kicking in the door of a side room. With a thunderous crash, the door gave way, revealing a young girl in green quivering inside.

“Where do you think you’re hiding, girlie?” Xiao Jian growled, leaping on top of her. Panicking, she tried to struggle, but he clamped her legs tight and began tearing at her clothes.

Rip! Rip! Fragments of green cloth went flying as the girl let out piercing screams.

Furious, Fang Jianlong dashed forward and grabbed Xiao Jian by the collar, shouting, “Xiao Jian, have you lost your mind?!”

The outer disciple glanced over, eyes cold. “Me? Going mad?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You’re the one who drove me crazy.”

“What are you talking about?” Fang Jianlong demanded, startled.

“You want to climb the ranks? Fine. But why drag us all to this hellhole? If we’re doomed either way, I’m taking my pleasure where I can!” Xiao Jian’s voice rose to a fever pitch.

Fang Jianlong tried to explain, “Yes, it’s dangerous here, but we—”

He broke off, feeling a sudden chill in his gut. Looking down, he saw the tip of a short blade pressed against his abdomen, partially deflected by the shadow blood veil rippling beneath his skin.

“Madness!” he roared, flinging Xiao Jian aside. The disciple slammed into the wall with a crash that left him sprawled unconscious. Gritting his teeth, Fang Jianlong turned to the green-robed girl, who huddled on the floor, clutching her chest. Her eyes were bright and clear, though she trembled uncontrollably.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

She said nothing, apparently too terrified to speak. After observing her for a moment, Fang Jianlong crouched and gently patted her cheek, doing his best to sound reassuring. “Something’s not right here. You need to get away.”

With that, he hurried off to inspect the rest of the inn. Peering over the balcony into the main hall, he saw absolute mayhem. Even the street outside was in similar disarray.

He raced back to his own guest room, only to be stunned by what he found. The songstress had vanished, and the dancer lay on the bed with a metal hairpin sunk deep into her chest.

Fang Jianlong lunged forward and realized the hairpin had pierced her heart. She was beyond saving. Breathing hard, he scanned the room with his seventh rank senses, which should have allowed him to detect any living presence within the inn. Logically, the missing woman couldn’t have gone far.

So where was she?

A shiver crawled down his spine as he realized not just she but many people in the street below were vanishing. The entire town population was quietly, inexplicably dwindling.

Fang Jianlong felt the heat radiating from the silk pouch inside his robes. Within the pouch, the copper token, bearing his likeness, twisted in silent agony. Just then, a timid voice called out nearby.

“Young Master,” the green-robed girl said, peeking from around a corner, “I know a safe place. There’s a secret passage here in the inn.”

Scanning his surroundings and finding only madness, Fang Jianlong gritted his teeth. He kicked open several more doors, finding some of his people missing, others in a frenzy. The girl’s tone rose in desperation.

“Hurry, Young Master!”

Seeing no other option, he clutched the pouch to his chest and darted toward her. She led him down a corridor, footsteps echoing on the wooden boards.

“Who are you?” he demanded in a low voice.

“My family owns this inn,” she murmured shakily. “I’m the innkeeper’s daughter, but never mind that. We have to hide. Everyone’s gone mad.”

Panting, Fang Jianlong stole another glance through a window. His pupils contracted at the sight; more people had vanished in the short time he’d been running.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Somewhere else entirely, a group of dazed individuals found themselves standing on an unfamiliar cobblestone street. It had ancient, quaint buildings with rows of shops open for business. Vendors cried out their wares.

“Don’t pass by without a look, rouge powder, all at fair prices!”

“New goods on sale, new goods! Hair ornaments and pendants, going for just two cash!”

“Sugar figurines, come get your sweet treats, just one string to taste them all!”

Glancing around in alarm, these newly arrived travelers felt a stabbing pain in their temples whenever they tried to recall how they got there. It felt as though they’d done something terrible, yet the memory hovered just out of reach.

“Let’s at least look around this street,” someone suggested.

A woman who seemed to be a songstress eyed their surroundings warily. She remembered going to Tiger’s Back County the previous day with some young noble. How had she suddenly ended up in this place?

All around them, in the shadows of the narrow alleys, lurked numerous undying husks. They regarded these unsuspecting newcomers as fat sheep, easy prey from whom they could harvest ghost money and other valuables.

Before long, several among the newcomers decided to ask for directions and bought items from the street vendors. Others tried to venture deeper down the street but found themselves blocked by some of the undying husks, who had no intention of letting their sheep wander too far and vanish into the depths of the ghost street marketplace.

In just a short while, many of the new arrivals had purchased things they didn’t really understand.

Right then, three cloaked figures walked in from one end of the street. The one in the lead was small and slight, strutting with an exaggerated swagger. His narrow eyes, however, gleamed with a calm that belied his brash demeanor.

An eerie voice slipped from his lips, “I wonder what this little backwater ghost street marketplace might have in the way of local specialties.”

He muttered this under his breath, then stepped forward to address the group of startled newcomers. “All of you who ended up here by mistake, buy whatever you need from these stalls, bring everything over to me, and I’ll open the exit for you.”

Several of the undying husks looked over with undisguised hostility. One snorted, pulled a sugar figurine from his sleeve, and began licking it casually. Others did the same, eyeing the three cloaked strangers while quickly devouring their candy. Though sugar figurines were precious, this sudden influx of fat sheep looked too tempting to resist. Sacrificing a few candies seemed a small price to pay if they could harvest far more in return.

But the moment they started licking, their hands froze mid-gesture.

Without warning, a rippling distortion streaked through the air. A translucent thread that ensnared one man’s sugar figurine and wrenched it away.

Whoosh! The candy shot across the space and landed neatly in the scrawny man’s grasp. In rapid succession, more threads lashed out, snatching up every figurine the undying husks were holding. Their faces darkened; some looked ready to retaliate, when a red-robed figure appeared from a nearby courtyard.

It was the master of the Clock Mansion.

“Who might you be?” the red-robed man asked, his tone guarded.

“We came here on behalf of the Northriver prefecture lord,” the scrawny man replied coolly. “You look like the one in charge around here. I’m sure you’ve heard of us?” He spread his hands with a sneer. “This operation is ours. Naturally, we take the profits. If you want a share, go talk to the prefecture lord and join us.”

The red-robed man’s gaze swept over the three strangers. His expression shifted a few times, lingering on the sugar figurines in the little man’s hands. Eventually, he said quietly, “Very well. I’ll pay a visit to the prefecture lord someday.”

He turned with a wave of his sleeve. “Stand down,” he ordered his own people.

Once back at the Clock Mansion, the red-robed man addressed the group. “Who among you is from Northriver Prefecture?”

A handful stepped forward, and he gestured for them to investigate.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

On the ancient ghost street, the three newcomers stood watch as the involuntary visitors—people who had stumbled into the ghost street marketplace—crowded the stalls, buying odds and ends in hopes of earning permission to leave. Finally, one by one, they disappeared from view...only to meet gruesome ends in some hidden recess of the street.

The scrawny man grinned in satisfaction at the growing hoard of ghost money and odd trinkets piling up in his hands. As people trickled away, he prepared to depart. That was when a peddler in a gray robe suddenly stood up and walked straight toward him.

The man in gray smiled warmly. “Honored guest, that spider’s silk you’re holding. I’ve been looking for something just like it. Would you sell it to me?”

The scrawny man froze.

The gray-robed peddler’s kindly smile never wavered. “It’s the thread you’re keeping inside your cloak,” he said.

Realizing there was no way to refuse here in the ghost street marketplace, the scrawny man looked like he might cry. He reached into his robe and withdrew a silver strand, handing it over with trembling fingers. The peddler counted out ten pale-white paper bills and passed them to him in exchange.

Taking the bills, the man left in a daze, heart bleeding at his loss.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

That evening, Li Yuan once again brought Sheng'er to the black market ghost domain.

Dressed in her white robe, Yan Yu produced a length of fine silver thread. “There was a stranger here earlier, some undying husk carrying an unusual item. I had a feeling you’d need it, so I bought it for ten mace worth of ghost money. That’s everything I had on hand.”

“10 mace?” Li Yuan murmured, recognizing how valuable this thread must be.

He took it, and it coiled itself around his fingertips with a soft whish. Instantly, in his mind, a new message appeared in his equipment box.

「 Equipment 5: Thousand-Mile Thread 」