Am I the only good person in this cultivation world?

The stars and moon hung high in the sky, and all was silent.

Amidst the dark, towering mountains, a square-shaped city stands nestled among the peaks.

No matter how late the night, the city and its surroundings are always brightly lit, with orange-yellow lights illuminating most of the sky, providing a place of refuge for lost travelers.

This city was built along the river. Two miles east of the city gate, there is a low hill where crape myrtle flowers bloom all over the hill in summer, filling the air with fragrance and attracting people to stop and admire them. Hence, this place is also known as "Purple Hill".

Ziqiu City has always been a strategic location fought over by military strategists, simply because it is situated at the junction of three kingdoms: Jing Kingdom to the south, Daliang Kingdom to the northwest, and Binghai Kingdom to the northeast. Now, it belongs to Jing Kingdom and is the largest city in northern Jing Kingdom.

Times have changed and dynasties have fought. Ziqiu has changed hands several times, but it still stands firm on the border of the three kingdoms. The people live in peace and prosperity, so it also has another name: Anding City.

However, although this is written on the city gate, people do not say it, simply because the name Ziqiu has long been deeply rooted in people's hearts.

Today, Ziqiu City is as peaceful as ever.

In other places, after 7 PM, people would have already closed their doors and gone home to rest. But for the people of Ziqiu, the night was just beginning:

As dusk settles, the city comes alive. Thousands of red lanterns veil the moon, and countless sparks connect the lights; the lanterns sway, the copper bells ring softly, and wisps of smoke rise into the night air; music fills the air, laughter echoes, and cups clink and shatter like rain.

After passing a noisy tavern, a young man appeared at the alley entrance in the southeast corner of Ziqiu City.

He wore a mask and a black robe, making it impossible to see his face. The only indication of his age was his height, but his gait was quite mature.

He wasn't alone in the deep alley; there were two other men shrouded in black robes, silently watching him without uttering a word.

The three looked at each other for a moment, then the boy suddenly spoke:

"The Five Elements flow in reverse; who controls the Fire of Li?"

One of the two men looked up, glanced at the boy briefly, and slowly said:

"The eight trigrams are upside down; I hold the metal element of Dui."

After saying that, he added, "If the Niwan (a point on the head) has light, can it illuminate the vast emptiness?"

"The Crimson Palace is spotless, capable of holding profound mysteries."

The young man answered leisurely, then reached to his waist, pulled out a spirit stone, and tossed it to the speaker.

The man took the spirit stone, weighed it in his hand, and handed over a dark stone tablet:

"Go in. Once you reach the end, simply infuse it with spiritual energy."

The man gave a telepathic instruction, and the two men made way for the boy.

"Thank you." The young man politely returned the greeting with a fist and palm salute.

This young man was Yao Han, who had arrived in Ziqiu City a day earlier.

In order not to waste time, he did not continue on the Ning family's cargo ship, but instead used magic to travel on foot. What was originally a three-day journey was shortened to one day. The hardship he endured is needless to say.

The place he was currently at was the entrance to the "Ghost Market" in Ziqiu City.

The term "ghost market" is used by ordinary people, but for cultivators like them, "black market" is a more accurate description.

Within the territory of Dongling, any city of any significant size will inevitably have a black market nearby, usually located deep underground. This secrecy stems from the fact that most cultivators who come here are engaged in shady business, such as dealing with stolen goods and reselling black market products.

As a member of the Demonic Sect, Yao Han frequently traveled to black markets in various places in his previous life, so he was very familiar with the ins and outs of them.

Regardless of your background, as long as you can find the entrance, match the incision, and pay the spirit stones, you can freely enter and exit.

As for the background and origin of these black markets, there are many different opinions. Some say that the person in charge behind them is a great cultivator in the late stage of the Nascent Soul stage. Others say that these black markets are closely related to the six sects of Dongling. Still others say that the master of these black markets in various places is not a human, but a demon beast that has taken human form.

Regardless of whether these rumors are true or false, at least one thing is certain: the six factions knew about the existence of the black market but never intervened, so there must be a reason for its existence.

Yao Han walked to the deepest part of the alley, took out the token, and infused it with spiritual power.

After a slight buzzing sound, ripples spread out in front of them, and then a large, dark hole appeared in the ground. A dark and damp aura wafted out, sending chills down one's spine.

Yao Han continued walking without stopping, ascending the downward steps and heading into the depths of darkness.

There was no light along the way, not even a torch, but that was nothing to cultivators. Yao Han cast a night vision spell, and everything around him became clearly visible.

He continued down the circular staircase, not knowing how many feet he was above the ground, until, after the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, his feet finally touched solid ground.

Two more cultivators dressed in black robes appeared at the entrance. Yao Han took out his token, showed it to them, and was then allowed to pass.

As he passed through the half-open giant door, a completely different world appeared before his eyes.

A dim lamp flickers, a strange house stands rugged. On the left, a stall displays rare goods that conceal secrets; on the right, a market hides exotic treasures hidden in the dust. Shadows come and go, but no footsteps are heard; objects are displayed, but their names are unknown. Some sell bones as fine as jade, others sell souls as fleeting as smoke. A single coin can buy ten years of life in the underworld, half a cup can exchange for three lifetimes of infatuation.

The black market was bustling with people, shoulder to shoulder, and cultivators from all walks of life came and went in an endless stream. In terms of liveliness, it was probably not much different from the night market in Ziqiu.

However, most people who come and go from this place either wear strange masks or hide in robes that cannot be seen through by divine sense, and do not show their true faces; moreover, most transactions are completed in secret through telepathy, making this black market seem particularly desolate and empty.

Yao Han's trip was to make preparations before heading to Wanxiang Temple.

He didn't have much time and didn't have time to go to any immortal markets or spirit shops, so he could only try to find this black market near Ziqiu City to see if he could exchange it for something useful.

Wearing a ghost mask, Yao Han walked down the long street, carefully looking at each house and searching for what he needed.

There are no rules in the black market; it's a lawless place. Even if you fight to the death here, the "gatekeepers" won't care. Even if you get beaten to death, you can only accept your bad luck; no one will collect your body.

Over time, the cultivators reached a consensus: no trouble should be caused in the black market, and even if they were to fight, they should do so outside. They should not interfere with other people's transactions, otherwise, if they angered the crowd, they would be attacked by everyone.

This is the only rule in the black market, but it's just an unwritten rule; whether or not it can be followed depends entirely on one's own conscience.

For Yao Han, these things were naturally very familiar. As long as he was careful and didn't provoke those high-level cultivators, no one would bother him.

Halfway there, Yao Han suddenly stopped, his expression quite strange beneath his mask.

He unexpectedly ran into an acquaintance here!

Not far away, a dilapidated thatched hut came into view. In front of the hut, two slender bamboo poles supported half of the protruding thatched eaves, which looked like they were about to collapse. Under the eaves, an old man was dozing off behind a table and cabinet.

The old man had gray hair and beard, a scar at the corner of his eye, and a head that was twice the size of an average person's, which was probably due to some kind of cultivation technique he had practiced.

At this moment, he was squinting, lying in a rocking chair, slowly waving a palm-leaf fan in his hand.

"Old Qian, why aren't you staying in Ghost Tomb? Why are you doing business in Purple Hill?"