Chapter 90: Market Encounter

The rest of the night passed in absolute, undisturbed quiet. The deep silence over the estate remained peaceful, held securely beneath the invisible, protective grid of the Ancient Turtle Shield.

As the first pale rays of morning light broke over the horizon of Crimson Vale, painting the tiled rooftops in soft gold, Lu Feng finally stood up from his wooden chair in the holding room. He glanced once more at the two captive intruders—who sat exhausted, pale, and thoroughly unnerved after spending the entire night suspended in sheer, agonizing suspense—and turned on his heel to refresh himself for the day ahead.

By mid-morning, the estate was alive with light chatter and activity. After enjoying a quick, simple breakfast together, Lu Feng, Han Lin, and Ye Chenxue set out through the main gates toward the heart of Crimson Vale. The central trade market was already roaring with life—few cultivators, merchants, local tradesmen, and wandering mercenaries packed the broad stone avenues.

Hawkers shouted their prices over the rising din, while colorful wooden stalls lined both sides of the street, displaying everything from common spirit grains to rare monster core fragments and shimmering talisman papers.

Lu Feng walked near the center of the group, flanked comfortably by the two ladies. Han Lin moved with a light, cheerful bounce in her step, her brand-new dragon jade pendant resting against her chest while the protective hairpin secured her hair with elegant simplicity.

Beside them, Ye Chenxue walked with her usual poised, quiet demeanor, her clear eyes casually scanning the passing stalls while her aura remained cool and collected. Their goal for the morning was straightforward: procure spiritual herbs to grow within the estate to further saturated the estate with spiritual energy and hunt for some materials to reinforce the estate’s day-to-day running like cooking and cleaning.

"The market is unusually crowded today," Han Lin noted, leaning in slightly toward Lu Feng as a group of armored guards pushed past them. "I suppose everyone is stocking up before the weekend trading period where the prices spike a little. I guess it’s the same everywhere."

"That works in our favor," Lu Feng replied with a subtle smile. "The larger the crowds, the more likely the merchant caravans brought in rare stock from the outer territories."

High above the bustling thoroughfare, on the open second-floor balcony of a high-end restaurant, sat Ma Guiren.

He reclined against a plush wooden chair by the railing, a cup of warm, aromatic wine held tightly between his fingers. His arrogant gaze drifted idly over the sea of moving heads below until his eyes suddenly locked onto three familiar figures navigating through the market street.

The exact instant he recognized Lu Feng walking comfortably alongside both Ye Chenxue and Han Lin, Ma Guiren’s face darkened instantly, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles along his cheek quivered.

"That insufferable, worthless parasite..." Ma Guiren muttered through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning stark white around the delicate porcelain of his wine cup.

To see Lu Feng alive and well, walking so casually without a scratch on him—and flanked by two remarkably stunning women—made Ma Guiren’s stomach churn with a toxic mix of bitter envy and raw, suffocating hatred. He had sent men after him, yet here Lu Feng was, acting as though he didn’t have a single care in the world.

Down in the crowded street below, Lu Feng paused near a herbalist’s wooden table to examine a bundle of Spirit-Nourishing Roots. As he reached out to inspect the quality of the roots, his sharp senses immediately picked up a wave of intense, focused hostility directing itself at him from above.

Without turning his head abruptly, Lu Feng’s eyes flicked casually upward toward the second-floor restaurant balcony, catching Ma Guiren staring down at him with a venomous, bloodshot glare.

Lu Feng’s lips twitched upward into a brief, almost invisible smirk. Then, as if he had merely glanced at a stray dog sleeping by the roadside, he looked straight past him, completely ignoring Ma Guiren’s existence as he turned his full attention back to the herbs on the table.

"Young Master, is something wrong with the roots?" Han Lin asked, noticing his slight pause.

"No, they look fine," Lu Feng said smoothly, dropping the bundle back onto the table. "Just a minor nuisance in the air."

Up on the balcony, Ma Guiren caught that fleeting look—and the total, utter indifference that followed it. The absolute lack of fear or acknowledgment hit him like a physical slap across the face.

"He dares... he dares ignore me?!" Ma Guiren hissed, slamming his wine cup onto the heavy table so violently that dark liquid sloshed over the rim and stained the wood.

Veins bulged along his forehead and neck as his temper flared completely out of control. He wanted nothing more than to leap over the balcony railing, draw the longsword from one of his guards, and cut Lu Feng down right in the middle of the crowded thoroughfare.

But just as his hand twitched instinctively toward the weapon’s hilt, the cold, terrifying image of Su Rong flashed vividly in his mind. Her explicit threat from their previous encounter rang loud and clear in his ears: if he dared cause direct trouble or draw blood against Lu Feng within the main city territory, she would personally see to it that he paid with his life.

Ma Guiren took a harsh, forced breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he forcibly suppressed his murderous urge. He couldn’t attack directly. He couldn’t risk being linked to any violent commotion himself.

"Young Master Ma? Is everything alright?" a coarse, raspy voice spoke up from behind him.

Ma Guiren turned his head slightly to see a burly, broad-shouldered man standing near the top of the restaurant staircase. The man wore scuffed, dented leather armor, carried a heavy iron cudgel slung across his back, and possessed the unmistakable, ruthless demeanor of a rogue mercenary who cared for nothing in the world except cold, hard coin.

A dark, scheming glint instantly replaced the unbridled rage in Ma Guiren’s eyes. He reached into his inner silk robe pocket, pulled out a heavy velvet coin pouch, and tossed a heavy gold coin onto the wooden table with a sharp, echoing sound.

Clink!

The mercenary’s eyes immediately locked onto the gleaming gold, a wide, greedy grin spreading across his scar-lined face.

"You see that young man down there in the dark robes?" Ma Guiren asked in a low, sinister whisper, pointing a single finger down toward the market crowd where Lu Feng was currently examining a display of refined iron ores.

The mercenary leaned over the wooden railing, squinting down through the crowd before nodding slowly. "The one standing with the two gorgeous ladies? Aye, I see him clearly, Young Master."

Ma Guiren leaned forward, sliding the heavy gold coin across the polished table until it rested right at the edge of the mercenary’s reach. "Go down there and cause a scene. Bump into him, accuse him of stealing your personal belongings, knock his goods onto the ground—do whatever you have to do to thoroughly humiliate him and make a massive, embarrassing spectacle in front of the entire market. Make his life a living hell right here in public."

The mercenary scooped the heavy gold coin off the table with lightning speed, testing its weight in his calloused palm before slipping it into his leather belt with a rough, raspy laugh. "Consider it done, Master Ma. I’ll make sure the whole street watches him crawl in the dirt."