The morning sun cast a gentle, golden glow through the lattice window of my room, illuminating the swirling dust motes in the air. I had woken early, my mind a whirlwind of plans and anxieties. The confirmation of Yao Lao's presence had shifted our perspective from that of stranded tourists to unwilling participants in a grand, unfolding epic. The stakes had never been higher.
I rose from the impossibly soft bed and walked to the vanity. The face of Yang Guifei stared back, her beauty as breathtaking and as alien as it was the first day. But today, something was different. The panic was still there, a low hum beneath the surface, but it was overlaid with a new, sharp sense of resolve. This was my face. This was my body. I would learn to use it.
Closing my eyes, I took a slow breath and tried to replicate the feeling from the bamboo forest—the sensation of welcoming the ambient Dou Qi into my body. It was easier this time, a thin, warm trickle flowing into my palm without a struggle. I focused, channeling the energy through the nascent pathways of my new form, and a small, steady flame, the size of my thumb, flickered to life. It was stronger than before, its color a deeper orange.
A familiar chime sounded in my mind.
...Consistent practice has resonated with the Template...
...Synchronization with [Yang Guifei] has increased by 0.01%...
...Current Sync Rate: 2.54%...
A minuscule increase, but it was progress. It was proof that our theory was correct: active engagement, not passive waiting, was the key to unlocking our potential.
When I entered the main hall for breakfast, Zhao Ming was already there, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table, looking for all the world like he owned the place. He was dressed in a simple but well-tailored black outfit that contrasted sharply with his snow-white hair. He turned his blindfolded head in my direction as I entered.
"Morning, Qing-er," he said, his voice cheerful and infuriatingly relaxed. "Sleep well? You were so tense yesterday I thought you were going to pop a meridian."
I felt the familiar flush rise in my cheeks at the pet name. But this time, instead of just getting flustered, I had prepared a counter-attack. It was time to re-establish some boundaries, to remind him of the dynamic we used to have.
I sat down across from him, pouring myself a cup of tea with a steady hand. I looked at him, a small, placid smile on my face. "I slept wonderfully. And good morning to you too... Ming-ge."
The effect was subtle but immediate. He paused, his head tilting slightly. A slow, amused grin spread across his face as he processed the name. Ge. Brother. A term of respect, but also one of familiarity, a way of firmly placing him in the 'friend zone'—or in our case, the 'best bro I knew from college' zone.
"Ming-ge?" he repeated, the grin widening. "As in 'big brother'? Trying to put me in my place, huh? That's cute, Qing-er. Real cute."
He understood exactly what I was doing, and with a few words, he had completely disarmed my attempt. He accepted the name but simultaneously pointed out the intention behind it, robbing it of its power. He was infuriating.
"We have a lot to do today, Ming-ge," I said, pointedly emphasizing the name as I took a delicate bite of a pastry. "We need to focus on Operation: Get Rich."
"You got it," he said, swinging his feet off the table. "Let's go make some money. I've got an itch that only rampant, unrestrained capitalism can scratch."
The central market of Wu Tan City was a sprawling, chaotic beast. It was ten times the size of the small market near the Xiao Clan grounds, a labyrinth of twisting alleyways packed with people from every walk of life. The air was a thick soup of smells: exotic spices, sizzling animal fats, the metallic tang of freshly forged steel, and the musky scent of strange, powerful beasts chained to posts.
Our strategy was simple. I was the face of the operation, the beautiful and slightly naive Young Miss from a wealthy family, idly Browse for trinkets. My natural charm and elegant clothes made stall owners eager to please and less likely to be suspicious. Zhao Ming was my silent shadow, the intimidating guardian whose strange appearance kept opportunists at bay. His real job, however, was to scan the endless piles of merchandise with his Six Eyes.
He would murmur directions in a low voice only I could hear. "The stall on the left with the green canopy. The owner is a 6 Duan Dou Zhi Qi. He's got a pile of beast bones in the back. See the one that looks like a paperweight?"
I followed his gaze to a grimy stall where a fat, sweating man was trying to sell discolored monster parts. On his table, holding down a stack of fliers, was a lumpy, dark grey rock. It was utterly unremarkable.
"That's not a rock," Zhao Ming's voice was a whisper in my ear. "The Dou Qi within it is metallic and has a dense, star-like pattern. It's unrefined Star Iron. Low grade, but that lump is worth at least a hundred gold coins to a decent blacksmith. Offer him five silver for it. Say it has a nice shape."
I approached the stall, a polite smile on my face. The stall owner's eyes widened when he saw me, and he immediately started hawking his wares. I let him talk for a minute before pointing a delicate finger at the 'rock'. "That little stone you have there," I said, my voice light and airy. "It has a rather pleasing shape. Would you be willing to part with it? Say, for five silver coins?"
The man looked at the rock, then back at me as if I were crazy. "The rock? Lady, it's just a rock! You can have it for free!"
"Nonsense," I insisted, channeling the persona of a whimsical, rich girl. "I must pay for what I take. Five silver."
I placed the coins on his table. He eagerly scooped them up, probably thinking he'd just met the dumbest pretty girl in the entire Jia Ma Empire. I took the heavy lump of Star Iron, and we walked away.
"One hundred gold from a five silver investment," Zhao Ming chuckled. "I think we're going to be very good at this."
We spent the next two hours repeating this process. We bought a bundle of 'common grass' for a few copper coins that Zhao identified as three stalks of bone-cleansing herb, worth twenty gold a stalk. We acquired a 'dull' beast core from a hunter that Zhao's Six Eyes revealed had an unusually pure energy signature, making it worth five times the asking price. Our small pouch of starting capital was quickly turning into a treasure trove of undervalued assets.
But these were small victories. To play in the high-stakes world of auctions, we needed a truly significant score.
"We need something big," I murmured, as we navigated a particularly crowded section of the market. "Something that can give us a few thousand gold to work with."
"I know," Zhao Ming said. He had been quiet for the last ten minutes, his head sweeping back and forth in slow, methodical arcs. "I'm looking. Most of this stuff is just junk. The energy signatures are faint, polluted... Wait."
He stopped dead in his tracks. His blindfolded face was aimed at a stall across the alley, one of the messiest and most dilapidated we had seen. It was run by a grizzled old man who looked half-asleep and was filled to the brim with rusted swords, dented helmets, and other assorted scrap metal. It was a junk pile, plain and simple.
"There," Zhao Ming whispered, his voice tight with excitement. "Bottom of that pile of broken shields. There's a wooden box."
I squinted. All I could see was a heap of scrap. "Ming-ge, are you sure? It looks like literal garbage."
"I'm positive," he insisted. "I can't see what's inside it. The box itself is made of Ironheart Wood, which naturally seals energy. And someone has placed a complex Dou Qi seal on it. It's completely inert to anyone else, a dead spot in the flow of energy. But to the Six Eyes... a dead spot is more suspicious than a bright light. It's hiding something. Something important."
My heart began to beat faster. This was it.
I took a deep breath and approached the stall. The old man cracked open one eye, grunted, and seemed ready to go back to sleep.
"Excuse me, senior," I began, my voice soft.
He grunted again. "Not buying, not selling. Just resting."
"I was just admiring your collection," I said, gesturing vaguely to the pile of junk. "So much history here. I'm looking for a few... rustic decorations for my father's study. Something with character."
I pretended to browse, picking up a rusty dagger and a helmet with a large dent in it. Then, my eyes 'happened' to fall upon the corner of the wooden box, barely visible beneath a shield.
"Oh, and that little box," I said casually. "And this helmet. And perhaps that dagger. How much for the lot?"
The old man finally sat up, eyeing me with suspicion. He grumbled, "The helmet is five silver. Dagger is three. The box... it's just an old box. Throw it in for another two silver. Ten silver for the lot."
"It's a deal," I said quickly, placing the coins in his hand before he could change his mind.
Zhao Ming stepped forward and easily lifted the heavy, rusted items, the small wooden box tucked securely under his arm. We had our prize. Triumphant, we turned to leave.
And walked straight into a wall of perfumed silk.
"Oof! Hey! Watch where you're going!" a sharp, arrogant voice snapped.
I stumbled back, Zhao Ming's hand instantly steadying me. Standing before us was a young man dressed in lavish green and gold robes, his face twisted in an ugly sneer. He was flanked by two burly guards who looked ready to flatten us. Based on his clothes and his swagger, I instantly recognized him from the novel's descriptions.
Galeo Ao. The lecherous, arrogant young master of the Galeo Clan.
His sneer was directed at Zhao Ming, who had taken the brunt of the collision. "Do you know who I am? You dare to block my path?"
Then, his eyes slid past Zhao Ming and landed on me. His expression changed in an instant. The anger vanished, replaced by a greasy, predatory leer. His eyes roamed over my face and body, making my skin crawl.
"Well, well," he purred, completely ignoring Zhao Ming now. "What have we here? Such a rare beauty, gracing our humble market. My apologies, fair maiden, for my guards' clumsiness. I am Galeo Ao, of the Galeo Clan. And you are?"
I felt a surge of revulsion. "We are just leaving," I said, my voice cold.
"Leaving so soon?" he oozed, taking a step closer. "Surely you have time for a cup of tea with me? I would be honored to show you the finer side of Wu Tan City."
Before I could refuse again, Zhao Ming moved. He didn't say a word. He simply shifted his body, placing himself directly between me and Galeo Ao. He was taller than the young master, and his presence, which had been a quiet intimidation before, suddenly coalesced into something terrifyingly potent. The air grew heavy, and a palpable sense of danger radiated from him.
It was the full force of the Gojo Satoru persona. The unspoken confidence of being the strongest in the universe. Even at 3%, the sheer killing intent he could project was suffocating.
Galeo Ao, who was used to being the most intimidating person in any room, faltered. He took an involuntary step back, the blood draining from his face. He looked from Zhao Ming's impassive blindfold to his two guards, who were sweating and shifting on their feet, their instincts screaming at them that the man before them was not someone to be trifled with.
"You... Who the hell are you?" Galeo Ao stammered, his bravado crumbling.
Zhao Ming remained silent, simply tilting his head. It was a gesture that was somehow more threatening than any verbal threat.
"Fine! Whatever!" Galeo Ao spat, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "Come on! We're leaving!" He shot one last look at me, a mixture of lust and newfound fear, before turning on his heel and storming away, his guards scrambling to follow.
The oppressive atmosphere vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"Let's go," Zhao Ming said, his voice back to its normal, easy-going tone. "I think we've had enough excitement for one day."
We retreated back to the safety of our pavilion, the encounter leaving me shaken. It was a potent reminder of the dangers that lurked in this city, and a startling demonstration of the power Zhao Ming could wield without even throwing a punch.
Back in the main hall, we placed our haul on the table. The rusty dagger and helmet were forgotten. All our attention was on the dirt-caked wooden box. The adrenaline from the encounter with Galeo Ao was replaced by the thrill of discovery.
"Alright, Moment of Truth," I said, my voice filled with anticipation. "Let's see what's inside our jackpot, Ming."
Zhao Ming placed his hand on the box. "The seal is old. It's designed to respond to a specific flow of Dou Qi. It's like a combination lock, but with energy." He closed his eyes—a redundant gesture, but it clearly helped him focus. "I can see the pathways. It's... simple, but elegant."
He channeled a minuscule thread of his own Dou Qi, guiding it with the precision afforded by the Six Eyes. We heard a series of soft clicks from within the box. After the third click, the lid popped open with a faint hiss of released air.
We both leaned over, peering inside.
My breath caught in my throat. Nestled on a bed of what had once been luxurious, now-faded black silk, were two items.
The first was a scroll, yellowed with age, tied with a simple leather cord.
The second, lying next to it, was a single, translucent leaf. It was a pale, crystalline green, and it seemed to hum with an almost imperceptible energy, a pure, vibrant life force that felt ancient and profound. Faint, intricate patterns, like veins, pulsed with a soft, green light.
I stared at that leaf, my mind reeling. I had read about it a dozen times. A key ingredient for one of the most important medicinal pills in the early story. A spiritual herb that grew in places with dense soul energy, notoriously difficult to find.
It was, without a shadow of a doubt, a leaf from the Seven-Phantom Valeflora.
We hadn't just found a treasure to sell for money. We had stumbled upon a core component of the plot itself. And now, it was in our hands.