Chapter Ninety-One: News of the Soul-Stealing Mink

As he moved forward, the sound of conversation gradually reached his ears.

With a creak, the burly man pushed open the stone door.

The underground space was vast, spanning several thousand square meters, with torches affixed to the walls. People were everywhere—perhaps several hundred—gathered in groups of three or five, discussing amongst themselves. In the center stood a platform, two meters high. The arrival of Lu Han and the burly man drew no particular attention; newcomers were common here.

“So this is the underground trading post?” Lu Han murmured.

The burly man soon departed, leaving Lu Han alone to quietly find a deserted corner.

His master, Old Ling, had always taught him to observe before acting.

Lu Han noticed that most people were huddled in small groups, negotiating deals or forming teams to hunt demon beasts outside. The majority were engaged in trade.

“You really have Phantom Spirit Grass? Do you want gold coins or a barter?” someone asked nearby.

“Three stalks. Three second-grade antidote pills and it’s yours,” the reply came.

“I don’t need coins—my Phantom Spirit Grass is only for antidote pills. I often hunt demon beasts and can’t avoid poison from monsters or swamps. I’m out of antidote pills, so…” They continued to discuss terms.

“You really have news of the Blue Glow Elephant?” someone asked, voice raised in excitement.

“I do, but you mentioned ten thousand gold coins…” the other hesitated.

“Gold isn’t an issue,” the first man said, producing a gold coin card, evidently eager for the information.

“Lean in, then.” Seeing the man’s readiness, the other wasted no words, whispered a few sentences in his ear, then took the money and left. Both seemed satisfied with the exchange.

Lu Han thought it best to wait and watch a little longer, simply observing and not yet making inquiries.

A clear ringing suddenly sounded.

“The trade bell has rung.”

Hearing the bell, everyone fell silent, almost as if on cue.

A man in a black cloak and a mask shaped like a ghost’s face stood atop the central platform, holding a bell—the source of the sound.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am seeking a shell from a Spiritwise Turtle for weapon forging. If anyone is willing, price is no object.” He clasped his fists in greeting, then descended, handing the bell to a burly man at the door, wearing a tiger-head mask.

Soon, a few people approached him, presumably to negotiate.

“The trade bell?” Lu Han was intrigued.

The bell’s chime seemed to quiet the entire crowd.

Earlier, the attendant had given Lu Han only a brief introduction to the underground trading post, omitting any mention of the trade bell or even the so-called “throwing stones to test the road,” which had led to Lu Han’s embarrassing mistake upon entry.

Just then, someone passed by Lu Han. He stepped forward to stop him.

“Brother, this is my first time in the underground trading post, and I’m not familiar with the procedures here. Could you tell me more about the trade bell?” Lu Han asked with a respectful bow.

The masked man paused, expression unreadable.

After a moment, a stiff voice issued from behind the mask.

“If no one has what you seek, you can purchase a trade bell from the trading post. When the bell rings, you may request assistance from everyone present.” He spoke coolly, then walked away without another word.

“Purchase? This trading post certainly knows how to make money—even entering costs a fee,” Lu Han thought to himself. But there was no helping it; one had to abide by the rules here.

Lu Han had no choice but to find the burly man at the entrance, wearing the tiger-head mask.

“Ten thousand gold coins,” the man said, recognizing Lu Han’s purpose.

Lu Han’s mouth twitched. Ringing the bell cost ten thousand coins—though he wasn’t short on money, such expenditures still stung.

Nevertheless, Lu Han dutifully paid, knowing it was the quickest way to get information.

“Ring-ring-ring!”

Lu Han mimicked the earlier man, hurried to the central platform, and rang the trade bell.

A stir passed through the crowd. Few opted for this method unless desperate; most preferred to ask around, since ten thousand coins was no trivial sum. It was rare for two trade bells to be rung in quick succession—sometimes a whole day would pass without the bell sounding once.

All eyes turned to the platform.

A figure shrouded in a loose cloak and wearing a wolf-head mask stood atop it, age and build indiscernible.

“Ladies and gentlemen, would anyone be willing to part with a Soul-Stealing Marten? I am prepared to pay ten percent above the market price for purchase, or any information regarding one is equally welcome.”

Lu Han deliberately lowered his voice, sounding like a man in his thirties or forties.

He finished and stepped down, returning the bell to the tiger-mask man.

“Soul-Stealing Marten? Could this be someone from the Wen family?”

“How could that be? Would the Wen family need to come to the trading post to buy a Soul-Stealing Marten?”

“Ninety percent chance it’s someone who’s crossed the Wen family, and is afraid of their Tiger Toad poison; buying a Soul-Stealing Marten is probably just a precaution.”

No one believed Lu Han needed the marten to cure Tiger Toad poison.

“It’s not that simple. Any news of a Soul-Stealing Marten is snapped up by people stationed at Wen family’s compound—how could it fall to us?”

Murmurs filled the hall. The Wen family was powerful, and their offers for Soul-Stealing Martens were generous. Most preferred to sell to them, pocketing the gold and currying favor—why not?

Lu Han sighed; he understood this well. He had come here to try his luck. Searching the boundless Chaos Soul Plains alone was nearly impossible—and even more dangerous.

One person in the crowd kept their gaze fixed on Lu Han, as if weighing whether to approach him.

Lu Han felt today was a lost cause. After so long, still no one had responded.

Just as he was about to leave, the observer seemed to reach a decision. He wanted a share of the Soul-Stealing Marten himself—not to sell the information to Lu Han, but to cooperate, since he couldn't capture the marten alone.

He couldn’t gauge Lu Han’s level of cultivation; if Lu Han decided to double-cross him, he’d be left with nothing.

Double-crosses were common in the Chaos Soul Plains—trust no one but yourself.

But missing this opportunity, who knew when the next would come? Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward to block Lu Han’s path.

“I have information about a Soul-Stealing Marten. Are you interested? But that place is deadly if you lack the strength to go,” he said bluntly.

“As long as you have news, I’ll be grateful. Whether I can go to that place isn’t your concern. Provide the information, and gold will not be an issue,” Lu Han replied, suppressing his excitement. It was like a sudden ray of hope after despair.

He’d nearly given up and left, only for someone to appear with news of the marten.

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