“So who are they?” Lu Piao asked, looking curiously at Zhang Ming when he returned with the two short figures.

  “No one. Just ordinary street vagrants… they have their own business, and we have ours. We’ve already wasted enough time. Let’s go to the market.”

  “Alright,” Lu Piao nodded, but continued glancing sideways at the two tiny figures in straw hats and cloaks. Since they kept their heads lowered, he couldn’t see their faces. “So what will they be doing?”

  “Forget about them,” Zhang Ming waved him off. “Just pretend they aren’t here.”

  “If you say so…” Lu Piao replied doubtfully.

  Let him make up his own conclusions. The less I say, the better, Zhang Ming thought.

  Dusk settled over the city, and the glow of sunset painted the sky crimson. Long shadows from the buildings plunged the streets into darkness even before the sun had fully set. For a brief moment, the world felt otherworldly: below lay shadows, while above, golden clouds bathed in the final rays of light.

  On the outskirts of Puyang, among narrow alleys and tightly packed houses, began a world ordinary townsfolk preferred not to know about. As night fell, the deserted, filthy streets came alive, as if sleeping ghosts crawled from their hiding places along with the shadows. People appeared from nowhere; merchants set up tents or spread mats with goods directly on the ground.

  The gloomy street with its few dim lanterns gradually flowed into a vast market, as though Zhang Ming and his companions had crossed an invisible boundary into another world. Torches burned everywhere, dripping flaming drops onto the ground, while braziers cast eerie red shadows across visitors’ faces. In some places, strange lamps hung, releasing greenish vapor that made the air around them shimmer and warp.

  Unlike the familiar noisy bazaar, a different, suffocating atmosphere reigned here. There were no bright signs, no loud cries of vendors. Only a muted hum, like the buzzing of a gigantic underground hive. Instead of proper stalls, gray, earth-toned tents crowded tightly together. People spoke in low voices, their words dissolving into the stale air that smelled of metal, acrid sweat, and the sweet rot of opium.

  Zhang Ming walked confidently at the front. From time to time, he lowered his gaze to Xue and Mingzhu scurrying beside him. Wrapped in gray cloaks down to their heels, they nearly pressed against him, their small fingers clutching the frayed edges of his worn robe. With wide eyes, the girls looked around, trying not to miss anything. This world felt foreign and wrong to them, which made it frighteningly fascinating. Behind them, still muttering about little people, trudged Lu Piao.

  “Where exactly is this fence you mentioned?” Zhang Ming turned back to him. “I don’t want to linger here longer than necessary.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “We’re going the right way. See that cracked yellow sign that says ‘Lu’s Grocery’ next to that green smoke? That’s our place.”

  Zhang Ming didn’t dare bring the bandits’ belongings to an ordinary shop, where owners or merchants might recognize stolen goods. He was looking for a reliable fence, someone who paid fairly and guaranteed anonymity. Besides, Lu Piao had vividly described the shop, and Zhang Ming wanted to see it with his own eyes.

  “There’s more people here than I remember,” Lu Piao whistled softly. “Probably because of the war on the border. Big brother, be careful. It’s not just scum who come here, there are strong cultivators too. Better not provoke them.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Third-rank inscription craft! I’ll make your weapons stronger and sharper…” a young Daoist called out quietly. “Just a few spirit crystals and your power will rise to a new level.”

  “Another time,” Zhang Ming nodded politely as he passed by, then muttered under his breath, “No distractions. Business first, everything else later.”

  Most of the goods here are far beyond what I can afford, he thought, glancing over the stalls. And what are these crystals? I should find out more… Half the people here are cultivators… That guy has a magnificent axe on his back!

  Like his daughters, he was visiting the black market for the first time, and many things seemed strange and wondrous to him.

  Although their father had told them not to look around, Xue and Mingzhu couldn’t help stealing glances. A stall radiating cold drew their attention. On gray cloth lay dried bones of beasts and humans, covered in small black characters: “For Summoning,” “For Suppression,” “For Contracts.” They were mixed with amulets made from material that looked very much like bone.

  “Will it really work?” a pale customer asked doubtfully, his eyelid twitching nervously.

  “Of course. The owner of this bone suffered for a long time before dying,” hissed an old man with moist, dark eyes like a woodlouse’s. “If you recite the words properly, a vengeful spirit will appear…”

  With a bony hand, he extended a human collarbone toward the man. Noticing someone watching, the old man turned to the girls and grinned with broken yellow teeth. Trying to appear friendly, he narrowed his eyes.

  “Come closer,” he beckoned with a skeletal finger, his voice rustling like dry paper right beside their ears. “You’ll like my goods…”

  A chill ran down Xue’s spine, goosebumps rising on her skin, as if she felt the breath of death itself. Beside her, Mingzhu unconsciously tightened her grip on the hilt of her dagger. The metal felt warm and kind under her fingers, almost alive compared to that soul-freezing stall.

  She stepped back and bumped into something hard that clattered loudly. Turning around, she saw a puppet nearly as tall as herself, with empty eye sockets. Right behind it shuffled four more just like it. They carried various goods, swaying unsteadily, their limbs clicking at the joints with every step.

  Covering her mouth with both hands, Mingzhu barely held back a scream and instinctively lifted her head, only to meet a pair of glowing red eyes through a slit in black cloth. The puppets’ master, wrapped head to toe in a dark shroud, with pale skin and long thin fingers covered in rings, was staring at her with great interest.

  Panic surged through Mingzhu. She quickly lowered her head, her heart pounding wildly, when suddenly her father’s firm, calming hand rested on her shoulder.

  “It’s alright,” he whispered.

  “How much for the ingredients?” the puppet master asked, gesturing toward the girl.

  “Forgive me, sir, they’re already sold,” Zhang Ming replied with a polite bow.

  “Hmph. Can’t be helped,” the stranger said, moving on with his puppets in tow.

  “Let’s go,” Zhang Ming gently nudged his daughter. “We’re almost there.”

  Shaken, the girls no longer looked around, only occasionally casting cautious glances at the brightest displays. Soon, all four of them stood beneath the cracked, nearly faded sign that read “Lu’s Grocery Shop”.