The Creation Pill held little allure for Wang Lin. He watched as the price soared, a pang of sympathy twisting within him for Wang Hao. It seemed his friend’s dream of acquiring the potent elixir would remain just that – a dream.

As this thought crossed his mind, Wang Hao, his voice strained, cried out, “Two hundred and thirty Spirit-Seizing Pills! This is my final offer! I can offer no more!”

A hush fell over the assembled cultivators. Two hundred and thirty Spirit-Seizing Pills was an exorbitant sum, pushing the boundaries of what most were willing to part with. Yet, the allure of the Creation Pill, so rare and whispered about, held many in its thrall.

Then, the vendor, cloaked in an unsettling arrogance, laughed. “Dream on! Two hundred and thirty Spirit-Seizing Pills for my Creation Pill? Unless you offer me two *thousand*, I’ll keep it, little lords!”

A chill ran down Wang Lin’s spine. The tone was strangely familiar, a ghost from his past. He peered closer, trying to penetrate the veil of swirling black mist that completely obscured the vendor’s form, masking his features, voice, and even his very build. Could it be Wang Zhuo? He couldn’t be certain.

Wang Hao shook his head, silence his only response. The trade fair attendees, stunned by the vendor’s outlandish demands, fell into a disquieted quiet.

The moderator, a portly fellow, coughed nervously. “Very well. If none are willing to meet the terms, let us proceed to the next offering.”

Soon, another stepped forward, displaying their wares and calling out their value. Before long, it was Wang Lin’s turn. He presented a small vial, its contents shimmering with an inner light. “Within this vessel lies one hundred drops of a Mysterious Liquid, its potency rivaling a Spirit-Seizing Pill. I seek formulae from the third tier of the Qi Condensation Stage and beyond.” He uncorked the vial, releasing a faint, ethereal aroma that stirred the senses.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Unlike the Spirit-Seizing Pill, a finished concoction only good for direct consumption, this Mysterious Liquid possessed limitless potential. It could be used in alchemical recipes, enhancing their efficacy beyond measure, or even incorporated into the forging of weapons, imbuing them with greater power.

“I offer formulae from the fourth level of Qi Condensation!” a voice shouted.

Wang Lin raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Only the fourth?”

“I offer the formulae from levels four, five, and six!” another called out, his voice tinged with eagerness. “Is that to your liking?”

Wang Lin paused, considering. “I desire all mantras from the third to the fifteenth level.”

A ripple of disbelief went through the throng. “Young brother, that is a tall order! Even Zhang Kuang, our most promising disciple who reached the sixth level during last year’s trials, only possesses the formulae up to level nine. Beyond that, only the elders of the sect hold such knowledge.”

Wang Lin hesitated. Then, a new voice, cold and sharp as winter wind, cut through the air.

“If you possess two hundred drops of this liquid, I will grant you all the formulae from the fourth to the ninth level.”

Every head turned. A figure in violet robes strode confidently down the path. He was no older than twenty, his expression severe. Unburdened by transformation pills, his true form was unveiled. His gaze swept across the assembled cultivators, and a wave of fear washed over them. They bowed their heads, murmuring respectful greetings.

“Greetings, Second Senior Brother!”

The man in violet ignored them, his attention solely focused on Wang Lin. “Do you have two hundred drops?”

A tremor ran through Wang Lin. The aura emanating from this man was palpable, radiating a power far exceeding anything he had encountered within the Hengyue Sect. Neither Master Sun Dazhu nor Senior Brother Zhang could compare.

“This liquid was a fortunate find,” Wang Lin replied, his voice carefully measured. “I only have the one hundred drops. I need to retain some for my own use.”

The man in violet considered this for a moment. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed a jade slip towards Wang Lin. “Very well. Give me the remaining liquid, and these mantras are yours.”

Wang Lin caught the slip, examined it with his spiritual sense, and, confirming its authenticity, retrieved a small bottle from his storage bag. He placed it carefully on the ground, wary of approaching the other man too closely.

The man in violet cast a fleeting glance at Wang Lin, then with a gesture, seized both bottles. He weighed them in his hand, nodded, and said, “Should you acquire more of this liquid, you may find me in the back mountains. I might know of a way for you to obtain the formulae beyond the tenth level.” He turned on his heel, his sleeves billowing, and vanished from the clearing.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, a flash of cold fury igniting within him. The man’s parting words were laced with venom, a veiled threat. Others might miss the subtle barb, but Wang Lin had always possessed a sharp mind, capable of discerning hidden meanings.

The unspoken message was clear: *anyone* who acquired this liquid was welcome to seek him out. In a single sentence, the man in violet had placed Wang Lin in mortal danger.

Though he couldn’t see their faces, Wang Lin felt the weight of countless eyes upon him. Doubtless, some were already calculating how to relieve him of his prize.

But Wang Lin had anticipated this. Before revealing the Mysterious Liquid, he had already considered the potential ramifications. He schooled his features, masking his unease, and surveyed the crowd with practiced nonchalance.

The trading continued for a time, the air thick with the mingled scents of excitement and frustration. Some beamed with joy at their successful acquisitions, while others departed in disappointment.

Wang Lin did not linger with Wang Hao. Instead, he secretly affixed several Immortal Talismans to his legs, transforming himself into a blur of motion. He shot off like an arrow, disappearing into the forest.

Wang Hao, no fool, understood immediately. He, too, applied an Immortal Talisman to himself, and quickly departed.

Those disciples who had revealed their treasures at the fair also made swift exits.

Several inner disciples, their hearts consumed by greed for the Mysterious Liquid, were momentarily stunned by Wang Lin’s sudden burst of speed. By the time they had recovered, he was gone. They cursed their luck and dispersed, thwarted.

Others, possessing greater cultivation levels, knew it was unwise to pursue him so openly. This was, after all, a trade fair for the inner disciples of the sect. Should they resort to theft or violence, the wrath of their masters would be swift and terrible.

As he ran, Wang Lin continued to affix Immortal Talismans to his legs, compounding their effect. With each addition, his speed increased, until he was moving with unbelievable velocity. He reached the sect in short order.

His greatest fear was the man in violet. Upon returning, he avoided the dormitory, instead, he secreted himself away in an abandoned room.

As the dawn painted the sky, and the transformation pill lost its potency, revealing his true face, he cautiously emerged. Thankfully, the path remained clear. Upon returning to his dormitory, Wang Lin immediately went into seclusion, resolving to ignore all worldly matters.

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