Later that night, Lin Yu slips from his hotel window, a dark cloak draped over his shoulders, the shadows curling to conceal his figure as he lands silently on the cobbled street below.

He moves swiftly through the quiet town, every lantern-lit corner bending around him, his steps swallowed by the veil of shadow until the last houses fall behind.

At the edge of town, he approaches a large, unmarked building, its doors heavy and guarded, where other cloaked figures drift in and out without a word.

Blending with them, Lin Yu enters and descends the creaking stairs, the air thick with whispers, smoke, and the scent of ink and blood, until he steps into the hidden heart of the black market.

Blackthorn’s black market is infamous across the kingdom, but most only know of the outer market, where smugglers and petty traders peddle counterfeit goods and forbidden trinkets.

Lin Yu’s destination lies deeper—the inner black market, a place hidden from ordinary sight, where true extraordinary materials and forbidden knowledge change hands.

Few have the right to step into that shadowed core, but Lin Yu is no ordinary man—he is extraordinary, and the doors of the inner market will open for him.

Lin Yu moves silently through the rows of stalls, shadows curling around his steps as merchants shout prices for so-called extraordinary treasures, most of them nothing more than clever counterfeits.

Ahead, he catches the familiar voices of Grace and a few other assistants, huddled before a stand piled with glittering stones and jars of strange powders. Their cloaks hide their faces, but their careless whispers and the shapes of their shadows betray them instantly.

Lin Yu does not pause, nor does he acknowledge them—he simply slips past, his path already set.

Soon, the noise of the market fades as he approaches a weathered pub, its sign hanging askew, its windows faintly lit with dull orange glow.

Pushing the door open, he steps into a dim hall lined with scarred tables and stale smoke, where a handful of drinkers keep to themselves. At the far end stretches a narrow corridor, the entrance barred by a heavy wooden counter where a thick-armed barkeeper stands.

Beside the barkeeper stand two silent guards, eyes sharp, hands close to their weapons, daring anyone unworthy to try passing through.

As Lin Yu walks toward them, the pub grows quiet, every gaze following him with suspicion and curiosity.

He lifts his palm, shadows coiling into form, the pulse of extraordinary power undeniable.

The guards exchange a brief glance, then step aside, opening the way.

Behind him, whispers stir, voices murmuring extraordinary through the smoky air.

He walks down a narrow corridor until he reaches a closed door.

A knock, and the door opens to reveal a man in a rabbit mask.

“New guest,” the man says, voice flat.

Lin Yu nods once and steps inside, noting the other door ahead.

The rabbit-masked man unfolds a bundle of masks, colours and shapes laid bare.

“Choose one,” he says.

Lin Yu’s hand moves without hesitation, lifting a black fox mask.

He fastens it over his face, the lacquer cool against his skin.

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“Good choice,” the man murmurs and opens the second door.

Lantern light spills across a vast chamber, rows of masked figures seated in silence.

All eyes fix on the raised platform, where a man in a crane mask presents an object.

The rabbit-masked guide gestures, and Lin Yu takes an empty chair, blending into the crowd.

The crane-masked seller steps down, replaced by a man in a dog mask.

He lifts his hand, revealing a pearl that traps the sea within its glow.

“Everyone,” the man says, steady and slow, “I present this.”

The name strikes Lin Yu’s mind instantly—Water Pearl.

The pearl shimmers under the light, waves frozen inside, drawing murmurs from the crowd.

Bids rise quickly, and tokens and slips of paper are passed to the rabbit-masked attendants.

The Water Pearl leaves the stage in the hands of a wolf-masked bidder, his shoulders stiff with triumph.

Another seller steps forward, an owl mask hiding his face.

He places on the table a vial of golden liquid, thick and pulsing with inner light.

“Essence of Sunfire,” he announces, his voice edged with pride.

The room stirs, several masked figures leaning forward with hunger in their eyes.

Lin Yu’s gaze lingers only a moment before drifting away—light is not his path.

The owl-masked man departs as the bidding ends, and another masked figure rises.

This time, a woman in a swan mask sets down a cluster of black feathers that seem to drink the lamplight.

“Raven Spirit Plumes,” she says softly, the words curling like smoke.

Lin Yu notes their affinity with shadow, yet too shallow for his needs.

The plumes vanish into another bidder’s possession, and more sellers follow.

A serpent mask unveils a jar of writhing silver worms.

A stag mask produces a weathered book wrapped in iron clasps.

Each item draws gasps, mutters, and frantic bids, but Lin Yu remains still, measuring, calculating.

The auction flows like a tide, treasures appearing and vanishing, hunger and greed thick in the air.

At last, a figure in a bear mask rises and declares in a deep voice, “The next turn belongs to the black fox.”

All eyes shift toward Lin Yu, who rises slowly from his seat.

His footsteps echo against the floor as he ascends the platform, mask hiding his calm expression.

He lifts a hand and, with a soft flick of shadow, places before the crowd a scroll.

The parchment hums faintly, faint wind pressure spilling from its edges.

“A Wind Blade sword art,” Lin Yu announces, voice clear, steady, carrying through the chamber.

Gasps ripple—such techniques are rare to trade.

“I seek only items or extraordinary techniques tied to shadow.”

The room stills, anticipation sharpening the air like a drawn blade.

The chamber falls silent when Lin Yu finishes speaking, most masked figures shifting uncomfortably, unwilling or unable to meet his demand.

At last, a deer-masked man rises, placing carefully on the stage a set of sharp, curved fangs and a small crystal vial of black venom.

“The remains of a Shadow Flower Serpent,” he says, voice measured, carrying the weight of danger.

Lin Yu studies the items, the residue of shadow energy unmistakable, dark and potent.

He nods once, decisive.

The deer-masked man steps forward, and the exchange is made, scroll for fangs and venom.

The Bear-masked attendant steps onto the platform, his voice booming.

“The extraordinary auction ends here. Tomorrow at the same time, ten o’clock, we meet again.”

Lin Yu exhales softly behind his fox mask, a reminder cutting through his thoughts—tonight, he was half an hour late.

He removes the mask, leaving it behind as instructed, and exits through a hidden rear door of the pub.

The night air is cooler outside, shadows folding around him as he weaves through the dim alleys of the black market.

Stalls and whispers pass him by, but Grace and the other assistants are nowhere to be found.

Reaching the edge of the town, Lin Yu slips back toward the inn in silence.

When he enters, the professors are absent, and the air in the lobby is strangely tense.

Brent, looking up from a chair with a pale face, mutters quickly.

“Grace and the others… the police caught them.”

Lin Yu’s gaze sharpens.

Lin Yu doesn’t react to Brent’s words, only changes into fresh clothes and lies down on the bed.

His thoughts drift toward the Shadow Flower Serpent’s fangs and poison vial.

He had agreed to the exchange only because the deer-masked man was the sole bidder.

But he feels that from these items he can grasp the essence of shadow poison.

With Brent nearby, he cannot bring them out.

So he sits in silence, slipping into meditation, drawing extraordinary particles into himself to restore his shadow energy.

At dawn, voices stir him awake.

The professors are already preparing to leave for the castle.

Lin Yu dresses and descends to the lobby.

There, a tense meeting unfolds, with Grace and several assistants standing pale-faced, heads lowered.

Professor Claire’s voice cuts sharply, scolding them for their recklessness.

She turns her stern gaze on Lin Yu and the rest, warning them of the consequences should they step out of line.

The group departs the inn and divides into separate carriages.

With the Earl’s guards escorting, they ride out of town.

Hours later, after rattling wheels, notes taken, and quiet footsteps across uneven roads, the ruined castle looms before them.

Before setting foot inside, they raise a camp on the outskirts.

None can tell how long their survey and investigation will last.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep