Chapter Twenty-One: The Treasure Ship of the Ghost Market

“Is the Ghost Market really here?”

By the tranquil riverside, moonlight spilled over the water, casting shimmering silver ripples. The river flowed quietly, its surface glimmering with silvery waves under the moon’s glow. Occasionally, a few small fish leaped above the surface, danced for a moment in the air, then slipped back into the water.

Gazing at the calm river, Qi Xiu glanced suspiciously at the stout man beside him, Peng Chong.

“Don’t be impatient, it’ll come soon,” Peng Chong said, squatting on the grass, plucking a stalk and chewing it as his eyes darted furtively.

Once we board the boat and enter the Ghost Market, I’ll expose his identity, then take advantage of the chaos to escape. No matter how good his footwork is, he couldn’t possibly chase me down with so many people in the way.

Heh, this kid may be skilled in martial arts, but his mind doesn’t seem very sharp. Even knowing that there’s a bounty on his head, he still dares to come to the Ghost Market. He’s asking for death.

Peng Chong shot a furtive glance at Qi Xiu, who was gazing across the river, his eyes sly and full of wicked schemes.

After Qi Xiu captured him, Peng Chong had tried several times to escape. Yet to his surprise, this scholar’s palm techniques were fierce, and his agility equally impressive. Despite thirteen years of practicing lightness skills, Peng Chong couldn’t even get ten steps away before being caught. Each escape attempt ended with another beating.

Luckily, the scholar had some inexplicable reason to visit the Ghost Market, granting Peng Chong a new opportunity.

After standing by the river in the chilly wind for half an hour, Qi Xiu’s gaze grew increasingly grim, energy swirling in his palms. Fearing another blow, Peng Chong quickly stood and pointed toward a treasure boat approaching in the distance.

“There it is, it’s coming.”

Afraid of being struck again, Peng Chong pulled out a bone whistle from his pocket and blew it hard.

A sharp, high-pitched whistle rang out.

Hmm? The sound produced by this bone whistle exceeded the range of human hearing.

So the Ghost Market truly was mysterious—what other oddities could they conjure?

Watching Peng Chong blow the whistle with all his might, yet not a sound audible to human ears, Qi Xiu’s curiosity about the Ghost Market only grew.

As the inaudible whistle sounded, a boat, pitch-black as if emerging from the abyss, drew near. At its prow, a bird with ashen-gray eyes cocked its head.

“Chirp, chirp!” Two cries rang out from the bird.

The treasure boat, which had been sailing down the river’s center, altered its course, slowly heading toward Qi Xiu and Peng Chong.

“In the Ghost Market, no true faces are seen. Everyone entering must cover their face; buyers and sellers alike are protected,” Peng Chong explained, taking out a mask painted with a floral design and handing it to Qi Xiu.

“No need, I have my own,” Qi Xiu replied, fastening a pale, battered mask to his face, and quietly watched the treasure boat draw near.

As it came within ten paces of the shore, its speed slowed.

This boat was truly enormous.

— — —

As the Ghost Market treasure boat drew closer, Qi Xiu realized just how massive it was—nearly a hundred meters long, four decks high, five masts, eight sails—it rivaled medium-sized warships.

“Let’s go!” Qi Xiu commanded, and both he and Peng Chong sprang forward, their bodies light and nimble as they leapt onto the boat.

Of the three manuals he’d acquired, the “Sun-Gazing God Strength Technique” was progressing slowly due to its demanding requirements, but his mastery of the Black Sand Palm had reached the first stage and was steadily advancing toward the second. His skill with Swallow’s Flight had reached ninety percent proficiency; though not yet at the first stage, it greatly enhanced his agility—he could move, dodge, and twist with the grace of a swallow in flight.

Running at full speed, ten paces in a single breath was no challenge.

They boarded the Ghost Market boat successfully.

Peng Chong led the way along the side passage toward the stern.

“This is the Ghost Market,” he said, pausing before a grand vermilion door set with nine oversized golden coins on each panel. He pushed the door open.

At once, a warm, intoxicating aroma washed over them, quickening the heart.

This was—

Peering inside, Qi Xiu’s eyes widened in shock.

Within the ship’s hull was an enormous, bustling marketplace. Streets and alleys teemed with crowds, all wearing multicolored, diverse garments and bizarre masks, their laughter strange and unsettling.

Stalls filled the market’s center, each radiating a captivating, uncanny aura. The stall owners sat calmly behind their wares, waiting for customers.

This strange, lively market possessed an unspeakable prosperity—awe-inspiring, yet irresistibly alluring.

“Take me to where you collect bounty rewards,” Qi Xiu said, his right hand gripping Peng Chong’s shoulder, exerting enough pressure to crush bone, making Peng Chong’s face pale.

You little brat! You don’t even realize death is at your doorstep.

Cursing inwardly, Peng Chong forced a smile.

“No problem. The Red Blossom Pavilion isn’t far, just a short walk.”

“Does the Ghost Market boat always float on the river?” Qi Xiu asked as they walked, curiously observing the stalls and shops.

“Yes, this is the Ding-numbered Ghost Market, responsible for patrolling the three prefectures of Huangtan, Yuantong, and Jiayi. It completes a circuit every three days. Other treasure boats patrol the remaining prefectures of Dian and Chuan provinces,” Pen