The coming days, save for his ventures into the Dreamscape, found Wang Lin consumed by the gathering of snow-melt. Had he not feared the potent spiritual energy within would burst asunder any common vessel, he’d have sought vats aplenty. Alas, only gourds would suffice, though fortune favored him, for he possessed a veritable horde. Within a handful of days, hundreds of the small, hollow fruits lay brimming. He reckoned this bounty would sustain his practice within the Dreamscape for many a moon.

With his gourds secured, Wang Lin resumed his cultivation. Though diminished, the spring’s blessed waters still held sway, a faint echo of their former potency.

Ten suns bled into ten nights. During this time, Wang Lin imbibed the weakened waters more fervently than before. Mercifully, the essence, once consumed, dissolved within, transforming into pure spiritual energy. Had it remained in its liquid form, his mortal vessel would surely have burst.

He found himself on the cusp of the Qi Condensation Period’s second threshold. To breach it required an infusion of spiritual energy manifold greater than that of the first. Thus far, Wang Lin had toiled within the Dreamscape for nearly nine moons.

Before, during his initial stage, a mere moon of dedicated practice under a constant deluge of spiritual energy would have yielded substantial progress. But now, though his body surged with unseen power, he felt frustratingly short of his desired goal.

This day marked his appointed meeting with Wang Hao. Abandoning the Dreamscape, Wang Lin awaited his friend’s arrival. As midnight cloaked the world in a downy blanket of snow, Wang Hao’s presence touched the edge of Wang Lin’s consciousness.

Moments later, Wang Hao shoved open the door, stopping short of entering. “The Master Alchemist delayed the concoction! I barely slipped away. We must hurry; the clandestine market is nigh!” he hissed.

He vanished back into the blizzard, and Wang Lin followed swiftly.

The pair navigated the grounds of their sect, then veered off onto a treacherous mountain path.

Under the onslaught of the storm, the way had become a slick and perilous dance. Wang Hao shuffled forward with caution, his voice a nervous tremor. “Curse this spectral weather! One stumble down this ravine, and I’ll haunt the living as a restless spirit, demanding recompense!”

Wang Lin, nimble and light, felt none of his companion’s fear. In truth, he savored the deluge, picturing the bounty of snow-melt that would await him upon his return from the market.

After a time, Wang Hao halted, turning to proffer Wang Lin a verdant pill with theatrical secrecy. “We’re close. I scouted this place a few days ago, so follow my lead. Take this now, lest our true identities be discerned.”

He consumed an identical pill, and a roiling cloud of inky mist erupted around him. From within the obscuring shroud came a raspy voice, “Well? Can you pierce the veil of disguise?”

Wang Lin reached out with his spiritual senses, only to find them ensnared, unable to penetrate the murk. Relieved, he grinned. “Truly wondrous alchemy!” He swallowed his own pill, and the same swirling darkness engulfed him.

They plunged deeper into the concealing fog. After a winding, disorienting journey, the path opened onto a clearing bathed in the spectral light of the falling snow.

The space was vast, populated by dozens of figures, cloaked and shrouded like themselves, each standing in unnerving silence.

Wang Lin and Wang Hao found an unclaimed patch of ground and joined the hushed vigil.

Before long, when no further arrivals appeared, one of the figures stepped forward. He cleared his throat, the sound rasping and unnatural. “The hour is upon us. I shall preside over this gathering. The laws remain unchanged. I shall offer first.” He produced a handful of small silver blades. “These flying swords are not of the Sect’s Spirit Armory. I acquired them through chance. They possess considerable might. Five hundred Immortal Talismans is my price!”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. After a tense pause, a figure stepped forward wordlessly, paying the required sum and claiming the blades.

Another voice rose. “I possess a Jade Talisman of lesser grade, capable of conjuring Earth Cracks three times. I seek but ten Spirit Pills in exchange.” He held aloft a pendant of crystalline jade, then quickly tucked it away.

“I shall trade!” A voice rose from near Wang Lin, eager to bargain. But another swiftly interjected, “I offer twelve Spirit-Snatching Pills for the talisman!”

The original bidder hesitated, then glared at his rival. He’d deemed ten pills his utmost limit.

One by one, the figures came forward, revealing their wares. The clearing buzzed with low murmurs as deals were struck and prices haggled over. Occasionally, a coveted item would incite a fierce bidding war.

“I possess a…a technique,” stammered a voice. “It can be learned by any cultivator in the second stage of Qi Condensation. It allows the user to obscure their true cultivation for a short time. Only those of Foundation Building skill can see through it. Truth be told, it’s somewhat useless. I only seek ten…nay, five Spirit-Snatching Pills.”

A wave of amusement swept through the crowd. Such a skill was worthless! Within the sect, recognition was earned through strength. Who would wish to hide their true power? If the effect were long-lasting, perhaps… but as a fleeting illusion, it held no value, especially at the exorbitant price of five Spirit-Snatching Pills.

Seeing the lack of interest, the speaker sighed, preparing to withdraw. But then, Wang Lin stepped forward. “Five Spirit-Snatching Pills. I accept the trade!”

The speaker gaped, then rushed forward, eager to complete the bargain.

Clutching the jade slip containing the spell, Wang Lin stood in silent wonder. He had never encountered anything like it. A touch of his spiritual sense, and the arcane words surged into his mind.

Useless to most, this skill held great promise for him. Though the concealment was fleeting, it was a beginning.

At that moment, a new figure emerged. Though his voice was rough, his demeanor was haughty. “I offer a Creation Pill,” he announced, his voice ringing with pride. “I seek a worthy price!”

Wang Hao gasped. “Snatch Thirty Spirit Pills!” he blurted out.

“One thousand Immortal Talismans and a flying sword!”

“Two thousand Immortal Talismans!”

“Snatch Thirty Spirit Pills and add five hundred Immortal Talismans!”

“A Jade Talisman of lesser grade, a flying sword, ten Spirit Pills, and five hundred Immortal Talismans!”

The voices rose in a cacophony of bids, betraying the value of the Creation Pill. Wang Lin learned from Wang Hao that it was a rare and potent concoction. Its effects lingered for two moons, accelerating a cultivator’s absorption of spiritual energy manifold, a boon sought by all inner disciples striving to advance.

Such a treasure was precious even within the sect. Disciples were granted it only twice in their lives: once upon ascension to the Black Robes, and twice upon joining the ranks of the Purple Robes.