Chương 340: When Power Meets Power

The vast, seemingly infinite expanse stretched in all directions, neither dark nor light but somehow both simultaneously. Structures that defied conventional geometry dotted the landscape: some like floating pavilions, others resembling inverted mountains or spiraling towers that bent at impossible angles. Traders moved among these structures: some appearing as hooded figures of pure light, others as swirling clouds of elemental energy, and still others as shadowy forms.

Within the Nexus, one's appearance reflected their cultivation path and the projection method they used, with only the cultivation realm being perceivable to others. Xue Mochen's form here was a silhouette of deepest crimson, occasionally rippling with darker shades that betrayed his blood cultivation path. The aura of a Life Realm cultivator surrounded him, significant enough to command respect from most, but still placing him in the lower tiers of Nexus visitors.

Despite having visited countless times, Mochen still felt a sense of awe at the Celestial Trade Nexus. Here, at least, he could move freely without worrying about Sect Master Crimson Widow's watchful eye or the weight of his sect's expectations. Here, he could search for his escape. He moved with purpose toward the sector known informally as the 'Technique Market'. An area where cultivation methods, combat arts, and spiritual techniques were traded.

What he sought was specific: a method to complete his Bloodfiend Clone Art, allowing him to create a perfect simulation of death convincing enough to fool even a Civilisation Realm cultivator. The first stall he approached appeared as a floating scroll surrounded by dancing flames. Its proprietor, a figure composed entirely of fire with two bright points for eyes, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Life Realm blood cultivator," the fire being greeted.

"What techniques interest you from the Undying Flame Sect?"

"Death simulation methods," Mochen replied curtly.

"Something that can fool Civilisation Realm perception, particularly blood cultivators." The fire being flickered, perhaps its version of a laugh.

"Fire cultivators don't specialize in death arts, blood walker. You might try the Shadow Pavilion three structures east."

"Useless," Mochen sneered, turning away without acknowledgment. He caught himself after a few steps, remembering Lan Yueru's gentle chiding about his manners. Reluctantly, he half-turned.

"Your suggestion is... noted." The fire being seemed surprised by this grudging courtesy, its flames brightening momentarily before Mochen continued on his way. The Shadow Pavilion proved equally unhelpful. Its proprietor, a constantly shifting mass of darkness that seemed to absorb light, offered techniques for concealment and presence masking, but nothing that could convince a powerful blood cultivator that one of their own had truly perished.

"You misunderstand our specialty," the shadow being explained.

"We hide from death. We don't mimic it."

"If you can't provide what I need, don't waste my time," Mochen snapped, his crimson silhouette pulsing with irritation.

"A kind word costs nothing," he could almost hear Lan Yueru say in his mind. The memory of her voice softened his tone, if only slightly.

"Is there another marketplace that might better serve my needs?" The shadow being's form contracted slightly, a gesture that might have been surprise at this shift in tone.

"Perhaps the Ghost Market beyond the central nexus point would serve you better. They specialize in death-related arts." Xue Mochen departed with a curt nod, his thoughts in turmoil. Was he becoming weak, extending even this minimal courtesy? Or was this the first step toward the man Lan Yueru believed he could be?

The Ghost Market, a collection of spectral pavilions that floated in the distant reaches of the Nexus, yielded techniques for communicating with the dead, for harvesting death essence, even for temporarily crossing into death domains, but nothing for his specific need. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. A ghostly merchant with hollow eyes and translucent skin shook his head at Mochen's inquiry.

"What you seek crosses multiple cultivation domains: death arts, soul manipulation, blood essence preservation, and perception deception. Such techniques are rare and... expensive."

"I didn't ask about the price," Mochen replied, fighting to keep his frustration in check.

"I need this technique. Without it, I cannot escape my..." He stopped himself, while the Nexus guaranteed anonymity, being paranoid was ingrained in him. The ghost merchant raised an eyebrow.

"Escaping? Are you trying to escape your sect? That's unusual for a Life Realm cultivator. Most would consider their position enviable." Mochen hesitated, wanting to lie, then decided a partial truth might serve him better.

"My sect's practices have become... incompatible with my future goals."

"Ah." The ghost's expression shifted to something almost like understanding.

"The Hollow Vein Sect has a particularly brutal reputation, even among demonic cultivators. I've heard their blood pacts bind not just the body but portions of the soul." Mochen stiffened. How did this merchant know his sect? Had his disguise somehow failed? But no, within the Nexus, identities remained concealed unless deliberately revealed. The ghost merchant smiled thinly.

"Your reaction confirms my guess. The crimson aura of your projection has distinctive patterns common to that sect. I've been trading here for ten centuries. I recognize cultivation signatures."

"If you know who I am, then you know I can pay whatever price you ask," Mochen said quietly, abandoning pretense.

"Do you have what I seek or not?" The ghost merchant's form flickered, becoming momentarily more transparent.

"I do not, but I know someone who might. The Bone Scholar trades in death arts far more advanced than mine. His stall lies at the furthest edge of the Ghost Market, where it borders the Void Quarter." Mochen nodded his thanks, a gesture that would have been unthinkable months ago, and made his way deeper into the Ghost Market. His thoughts turned to Lan Yueru as he walked. Their meeting had been pure chance, a simple weaver in a lakeside village where he had stopped during a mission.

She had offered him shelter during a storm without knowing what he was. Three visits later, he found himself telling her things he had never spoken aloud to anyone. Three months later, he realized with shock that he loved her. Now, everything he did was to secure their future. If he remained in the Hollow Vein Sect, Sect Master Crimson Widow would eventually discover his feelings for Lan Yueru. The old monster would not hesitate to use the mortal woman as leverage to ensure his continued loyalty.

Or worse, drain her for cultivation resources, blood cultivators were always seeking "pure" vessels untainted by cultivation energy. The thought made his spiritual projection flicker with rage. He would die before allowing that to happen. Which meant his "death" needed to be absolutely convincing. Lost in these thoughts, he rounded a corner too quickly and nearly collided with another figure coming from the opposite direction.

Instinctively, his lips curled into a snarl, a caustic rebuke forming— Until he looked up. The figure before him towered over his spiritual projection, its form a deep, almost black crimson. But it wasn't the size that made Mochen freeze, it was the unmistakable aura that radiated from the being. Civilization Realm. And not just any Civilization Realm cultivator, but one whose aura carried the distinctive resonance of blood arts.

The density of the figure's silhouette, the way light seemed to bend around it rather than penetrate, the faint crimson mist that trailed in its wake, they were all markers of a blood cultivator of unimaginable power. Terror washed through Xue Mochen like ice water in his veins. In the hierarchy of the cultivation world, the gap between Life Realm and Civilization Realm was vast enough to render any conflict laughable. But among blood cultivators specifically, the disparity carried additional horror.

Higher realm blood cultivators were known to use lesser practitioners as cultivation resources: living batteries to be drained, or worse, experimental subjects for techniques too horrific to test on oneself. Was this Ancestor Hei Gu, the ancient monster whose name was only whispered in the darkest corners of the Hollow Vein Sect? Or perhaps one of the other Civilization Realm blood cultivators whose mere existence caused even the Sect Master to tremble? All thoughts of arrogance and rudeness evaporated instantly.

The powerful figure regarded him silently, its featureless face somehow conveying cold assessment. Mochen could feel his spiritual projection trembling, a reflection of the fear in his actual consciousness. In that moment, Xue Mochen, the feared Crimson Ghost Monarch, the Butcher of Six Rivers, the dreaded Dawnshade of the Hollow Vein Sect, understood with perfect clarity how it felt to be on the receiving end of overwhelming power.

How many had trembled before him just as he now trembled before this Civilization Realm blood cultivator? Without hesitation, he bowed deeply.

"This junior apologizes for his carelessness," he said, his usual arrogant tone replaced by one of careful deference.

"I failed to watch my path and nearly inconvenienced the senior. Please forgive my transgression." As he maintained his bow, not daring to straighten until given permission, a single thought crystalized in his mind: For Lan Yueru's sake, he would endure any humiliation, tolerate any danger. He would find the technique he needed to fake his death, escape the sect, and build a new life, one where the Butcher of Six Rivers could finally rest beneath the quiet waters of redemption's tide.