My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 143 – A Strange Black-Market Underworld, Uniting the Power of Three Counties - Part 2

Chapter 143 – A Strange Black-Market Underworld, Uniting the Power of Three Counties - Part 2

“Caw! Caw, caw—!”

The eerie cry startled him. He jumped back and craned his neck, squinting into the harsh sunlight to see a crow perched on the eaves.

“Ugh, bad luck!”

He snatched up a stone and hurled it at the crow. But the bird simply fluttered its wings and flew off, letting out more cackling cries that seemed to drip with ill omen.

A sudden chill crept through the narrow alleyways of the shanty district; a wind hissed in through cracks, rattling doors and windows with a sound like a weeping woman, laughing and crying all at once.

Bear spent the day working, then bought some cheap spirits to drink himself into a stupor. Finally, he crawled into the small tent pitched on open ground by the merchant caravan and lay on his side to sleep.

Before long, he sank into a deep dream.

His body began trembling, his breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling as if he had sprinted miles without stopping. In the dream, he found himself abruptly inside a dim, silent room. Harsh, blinding light poured in through a window, where a pale figure stood in white.

Bear tried to move but couldn’t. He tried to speak but no words came out.

Suddenly, he heard a child’s playful laughter from behind, soft and high as if from a little girl. Terror clutched his heart, and he wanted to turn around but couldn’t move an inch. A strange realization hit him.

This is a dream! Since it’s a dream, I just need to wake up! He struggled furiously, tried biting his tongue, anything to rouse himself. But he remained utterly paralyzed, unable to budge even his eyeballs.

Everything in that grim, silent room seemed frozen in place, charged with a skin-crawling menace. The only sound was that child’s laughter.

After a while, Bear gave up thrashing. It’s only a dream... Eventually, I’ll wake up. Why bother?

He couldn’t tell how much time passed, but then a thump, thump came from the far side of the room, near the door. Someone or something was knocking. Yet the knock was more like iron bars being struck than knuckles on wood.

Tap, tap, tap... A small figure scampered over. On tiptoe, she stretched out a hand to open the door but paused, calling out, “Waa, waa?”

No answer.

“Papa?”

Still no reply.

Right then, the door pushed itself open from the inside, squealing on its warped hinges. The little figure retreated two steps, peering out into complete darkness. There was no light, only freezing emptiness. It was impossible to tell if there was a cliff beyond, or sheer nothingness, or some unknown path.

At that exact moment, the pale figure at the window spun around with a sudden jerk, black hair hanging over its face. It walked forward with a crack, crack as though each step shattered bones underfoot. In an instant, it reached Bear, grabbed his hand, and dragged him closer.

He felt as though he was touching a corpse, the chill numbing his scalp. But he had no way to resist, could not even shift his eyes. He wanted to scream, but his voice stayed locked in his throat.

The white-clad figure guided him toward the open door. From the darkness beyond, a rotted, charred hand reached in, holding a triangular scrap of white paper marked with the words one mace. It looked like a ghostly transaction was taking place. The pale figure accepted that one mace, and in exchange, the scorched hand seized Bear’s wrist. Inch by inch, it dragged him out of the room and into the blackness, where he vanished without a trace.

Creak... The door swung shut once more. The white figure set the paper money on the table, then went back to stand by the window, unmoving.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Early the next morning.

Before dawn even broke, the Fortune Trading Company’s tents were already bustling. The hired workers had to rise early for their jobs, mostly loading and unloading carts. If this were summer, they’d be toiling through the night, but winter allowed them to skip the graveyard shift.

Under the faint light of dawn, they gathered around steam rising from hot broth, eating breakfast together. As they finished, someone looked around and said, “Hey, where’s that punk, Lu?”

A man who seemed in charge cursed under his breath. “That good-for-nothing must still be asleep. I’ll go haul him out.”

Swearing under his breath, he marched over to Bear’s tent.

“Sleeping in? Are you kidding me?” he barked while yanking open the tent flap. But the instant he looked inside, his face went white as a sheet, and his stomach lurched. He tried to turn and run, only to trip. With legs giving out beneath him, he tumbled backward, crashing onto the hard-packed earth and smacking his shoulder painfully. Yet he was too terrified to even cry out.

“He’s dead. He’s dead!!!” The man in charge shouted in raw fear.

Immediately, a crowd hurried over.

Someone muttered, “What’s there to panic about? He was probably sick or something. People die all the time, don’t they?”

Even as he spoke, he lifted the tent flap again, and came face to face with a sight beyond imagining. The smell of cooked meat wafted out. Inside lay a corpse, still in a sleeping posture, thoroughly boiled but otherwise completely intact.

It was unmistakably Bear.

Yet somehow, despite being cooked through, his clothing, bedding, and even the tent showed no signs of damage. Only his body had been boiled.

This macabre scene left everyone gaping, breathless. Little by little, the smell made them realize this was no illusion. Some dropped to their knees and vomited; others backed away in horror, mumbling incoherently.

How could someone be boiled alive in his sleep? How could his clothes and bedding remain untouched? How could any of this happen?!

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Orange Blossom Sect, Southsky County.

An elderly man with white hair, but eyes as sharp as that of a youth, was half-kneeling on the ground. Panting heavily, he gripped a green whip in his right hand. Beside him lay a two-headed python, unmoving, its condition unknown.

“I admit defeat,” the old man said between labored breaths. “I’m convinced.”

“You needn’t be so formal,” Li Yuan replied calmly. “It was just a friendly match. Your beast isn’t dead, just unconscious.”

His first stop had been the Orange Blossom Sect in Southsky. When he arrived, his youthful appearance made them suspicious, so they insisted on testing him. Normally, they wouldn’t have dared, but they had someone akin to an old master in residence.

That old master—the former sect master of the Orange Blossom Sect—had retired and devoted himself to studying his memories and the replica of their lineage’s life chronicle, trying desperately to break through to a higher level. He had failed, yet remained extraordinarily powerful.

In Li Yuan’s observation, the man’s overall strength was 220~255, placing him among the most formidable experts in all three counties. He also specialized in poisons, though these were largely ineffective against Li Yuan, whose transformed constitution nullified anything below sixth rank toxins. On top of that, he commanded a seventh rank two-headed demon python, not through typical beast taming but through long partnership, developing a deep, wordless bond.

Yet none of it was enough to overcome Li Yuan.

“That was quite an enjoyable exchange,” Li Yuan said, cupping his hands toward the old man, who remained kneeling.

With a wry smile, the elder replied, “Enjoyable? Blood Blade Patriarch, please don’t flatter me. I know full well that you barely used a fraction of your strength.”

Seeing the old man about to continue, Li Yuan cut him off with a laugh. “It’s not as dramatic as you think. You almost had me more than once.”

The old man braced himself and rose slowly. He gave Li Yuan a long, penetrating look, then bowed deeply. “I am Liu Changchong, Supreme Elder of the Orange Blossom Sect. I have dedicated my life to martial arts and poisons. You must be my senior in age, even if it doesn’t show, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to address you as Brother Li.”

“...” Li Yuan paused, uncertain what to say.

“Don’t stand on ceremony.” Liu Changchong waved him off, then raised his voice for everyone around them to hear: “You’ve all seen our sparring match. But understand, it was just for show. Brother Li went easy on me to save my pride, and the pride of the Orange Blossom Sect. If he were serious, he could have finished me with a single stroke. Why are you all still standing there? Bring him what he came for!”

They were in the sect’s grand hall, surrounded by disciples, elders, and the current sect master. The group erupted in murmurs. Moments ago, they’d been thrilled to see their old master fighting the Blood Blade Patriarch toe to toe for dozens of moves. Now, they were floored to hear it had all been an illusion of parity. But they knew their old master wouldn’t lie.

At once, the sect master hurried over with a small chest containing life chronicle fragments. Bowing respectfully, he offered it up with both hands. “Your Eminence, our sect has two incomplete replicas of our life chronicle. Please have a look.”

Li Yuan accepted it.

Meanwhile, Liu Changchong studied Li Yuan carefully. Despite scrutinizing him, the elder saw no trace of advanced age whatsoever. Looking out over the crowd, he called out, “Xiaoyu, come here.”

A graceful young woman in purple stepped forward. She glanced at Li Yuan, then quickly lowered her eyes, her cheeks faintly pink. Up close, she noticed that this Blood Blade Patriarch seemed about her own age. Young, powerful, and mysterious. No wonder her heart pounded with a mix of awe and curiosity.

“Greet him. Since he’s a brother to me, you can call him Grandfather Li,” Liu Changchong instructed her.

Li Yuan was momentarily caught off guard. Ever since he revealed himself as the Blood Blade Patriarch, countless unexpected complications had begun to crop up.

The young woman in purple, Liu Xiaoyu, bowed gracefully and said in a soft voice, “Grandfather Li.”

Li Yuan felt a wave of awkwardness. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Just call me Uncle.’”

Then he beckoned someone over from the crowd, Tang Nian.

“This is my goddaughter,” he explained. “She only turned 12 this year. You can treat her as your peer.”

Liu Xiaoyu obediently said, “Yes, Uncle Li.”

"Good! Good!" Liu Changchong paid no mind to these little formalities.

Liu Xiaoyu was the most gifted among the Orange Blossom Sect’s younger generation, and he simply wanted her to gain a bit of exposure in front of the Blood Blade Patriarch.

Liu Changchong turned to Li Yuan and asked, “Earlier, you mentioned wanting to deepen the alliance among our three counties’ forces. May I ask what you have in mind?”