Chapter Ninety-Four: A Conversation (Please Subscribe)

Yan Xian was feeling miserable—truly, deeply miserable.

The tone Fang Mu had used just now was so formal, as if he were discussing some grand, established truth. Yet, to Yan Xian’s ears, it sounded entirely wrong, evoking instead a strange, inexplicable sense of melancholy.

Yan Xian desperately wanted to say, "Big brother! How long have you even been a Profound Practitioner? It’s been barely a month! What are you expecting—to reach the Realm of Returning to Truth in one go?"

This conversation... it was better off left unfinished.

Yan Xian silently set down his teacup and drew his broadsword, carefully polishing it. He poured all his focus into the task, losing any remaining desire to chat.

Just as the two were exchanging sporadic words, footsteps echoed from outside the shop. Given the lateness of the night and the shop's remote location, the sound was jarringly abrupt.

Fang Mu turned his head to look, and the person who entered was none other than Director Wu of the Imperial Surveillance Division.

However, Director Wu was not in the best state. His right sleeve was missing, making his appearance look comically asymmetrical compared to the left.

Seeing this, the corners of Yan Xian’s mouth twitched. He forced himself to look away, his eyes fluttering as if he were struggling to contain an overwhelming urge. As someone suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder, Yan Xian found the sight of Director Wu’s missing sleeve nearly unbearable; he felt a frantic desire to reach out and sew a sleeve back on.

Fang Mu’s gaze, however, did not linger on the sleeve. Instead, he followed the Director’s arm to what he was carrying: a bruised, severed human arm.

The arm was thick and muscular, yet no blood flowed from the stump. It appeared as if it had been scorched by fire; beyond the heavy bruising, there were charred, blackened marks.

"Yo, did you finish off the Five Gods Sect?" Director Wu sat down next to them as soon as he entered, casually tossing the bruised arm onto the table.

A fierce, baleful aura radiated from the limb, causing Fang Mu to frown slightly. The energy was extraordinarily powerful—even as a mere severed arm, it felt stronger than any anomaly Fang Mu had encountered thus far.

Yan Xian sheathed his broadsword and asked hesitantly, "Director, this is..."

"The arm of the Ghost Market Master," Director Wu said, pouring himself a cup of tea. "I cut it off to teach it a lesson."

"The Ghost Market Master?" Fang Mu took a sip of tea.

Earlier, when Director Wu mentioned he had urgent business to attend to, Fang Mu had understood. Now, it was clear: the Director had gone after the Master of the Ghost Market.

Director Wu chuckled. "You’ve been to the Ghost Market yourself. What did you think of it?"

Fang Mu shook his head. "Not much."

"Oh?" Director Wu was intrigued. "Why do you say that?"

Fang Mu pondered for a moment. "I’ve heard it said that the Ghost Market Master only kills the wicked and the evil, but I don’t necessarily agree. What one hears isn't always accurate, and even what one sees isn't always the truth."

Without sufficient understanding, Fang Mu was not one to judge easily.

Director Wu gestured to the arm on the table. "I can tell you now that the Ghost Market Master does indeed kill the wicked, but you must be wondering why I cut off its arm this time."

Fang Mu shook his head, stating bluntly, "I am not wondering."

"Actually, it’s quite simple... wait, what?" Director Wu paused mid-sentence, spinning his head around. "What did you say? You aren't wondering?"

Fang Mu spread his hands. "The Ghost Market has nothing to do with me. Why would I be curious?"

Director Wu’s expression froze, and he let out a long sigh. It was just as Li Gun had warned: one could not communicate with Fang Mu using the methods of a normal person.

*Snap!*

As they spoke, Yan Xian accidentally crushed his teacup. "Subordinate... your subordinate can't take it anymore!"

*Whoosh.*

A breeze blew through the room. Before anyone could react, Yan Xian had produced a plush cloak from somewhere and draped it quickly over Director Wu’s shoulders, hiding the missing sleeve.

"The night air is cold, Director. Please take care of your health," Yan Xian said, his face glowing with satisfaction, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

*Smack!*

Director Wu lashed out with a kick, sending Yan Xian flying. His face turned rigid. Was there not a single normal person left in the entire Imperial Surveillance Division? A genius with dual anomalies, yet burdened with such bizarre quirks—what had become of the division's dignity? Back when the Imperial Surveillance Division was first founded, the directors might have had a few minor hobbies, but they were all men of upright character.

Yan Xian scrambled to his feet. Despite being kicked, he looked remarkably refreshed.

Director Wu retracted his leg and turned back. "Fang Mu, don't you want to know... why you have a 'Ghost-Eating Beast'?"

Fang Mu swirled his tea, his thoughts drifting to Ah Bai. He remembered that back in the Ghost Market, he was supposed to have received a property deed, but it had inexplicably turned into the Ghost-Eating Beast. He hadn't understood the logic behind it then, but now that the Director had brought it up, he was indeed curious.

"There are two reasons," Director Wu explained. "First, the Ghost Market is filled with anomalies. To the Ghost-Eating Beast, the market is a feast, but to the Ghost Market Master, it is a liability. Don't forget what those beasts eat."

"Second, the Ghost Market Master discovered that you are not simple. It couldn't quite see *how* you were special, but it wanted to build a rapport with you."

Fang Mu took a sip of tea with a calm expression. "The Ghost Market Master is quite clever."

Director Wu laughed. "A figure who has lived that long will naturally be cautious. It’s not like those stories in the scripts where every villain is arrogant and conceited."

"Yet you still cut off its hand," Fang Mu noted, setting down his cup.

When it came to "humble-bragging," Fang Mu realized he still had some way to go to match the Director.

Director Wu waved a hand. "Actually, the Ghost Market has always been under the surveillance of our division. After all, its master is an anomaly. It's just that the affairs inside the market are too complex, and it hadn't crossed any major lines, so we left it alone. A pity, really..."

The tea had grown cold, and the person in charge of the dispatch station wisely chose not to emerge.

Director Wu continued, "Fang Mu, do you know why I cut off its arm?"

Fang Mu shook his head. "I don't know."

"Because it pushed too far." Director Wu didn't mind that the tea was cold. "Every time the Ghost Market opens, we have to investigate. This time, when I went to find it, guess what it told me?"

Director Wu reached into his teacup and used the remaining liquid to draw a large circle on the table. "This is the mortal realm."

He continued drawing, placing a slightly smaller circle inside the first one. "This is the Imperial Surveillance Division."

Beside the smaller circle, he dabbed two tiny dots with the tea. "This is the Ghost Market and the Anomaly Cultivator organizations."

After finishing, he shook the water off his fingers. Fang Mu remained silent; he rarely encountered such metaphorical explanations.

Director Wu wiped away the two small dots. "The Ghost Market kills the wicked, so the Imperial Surveillance Division let it be. But when I went to see it this time, it tried to negotiate a deal with me."

A sudden, chilling aura emanated from Director Wu—an air of fury and disdain.

"A deal? Does it really think it's worthy?"