Chapter 14: Risk-Free Business

Zuo Meng’s goal for coming down the mountain was simple: steal dust powder to boost his strength using its energy. After descending, he went straight to Liuhe City. He spent half a day there and, using his status as a clan disciple, uncovered the city’s dust powder source—Heifeng Zhai.

“This place looks like a fancy Changbao Pavilion.”

Zuo Meng observed the entrance and realized Heifeng Zhai was a massive trading hub selling everything imaginable—even Martial Arts Manuals that clans guarded as core treasures.

“Tricky.”

He sensed at least three auras as strong as his own inside, plus one that felt dangerous. A city’s largest market needed serious backing to avoid being looted in these lawless times where rules depended on brute force.

Zuo Meng entered Heifeng Zhai.

The three-story building sprawled endlessly. Soon after entering, an attendant approached.

“What does the young hero seek?”

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“Just looking.”

His Liuhe Sect status worked like a charm. The old greeter assigned a helper to guide him instead of tailing him.

The first floor sold cheap herbs. Zuo Meng headed upstairs. On the second floor, a black iron nail caught his eye—ten centimeters long, gleaming coldly.

“Fine taste, young hero! This Bone-Piercing Nail’s forged from ancient grave iron—deadly poison.” The helper eagerly explained, treating Zuo Meng as a wealthy patron. “Perfect for ambushes. Could save your life in critical moments.”

Zuo Meng ignored him. The nail held energy resembling dust powder, but closer inspection revealed differences. The steep price killed his interest. The floor mostly displayed weapons and tools, plus farming gear and luxuries.

“What’s upstairs?”

“Materials for clan High Persons.”

The third floor had fewer visitors but finer weapons and Martial Arts Manuals. The powerful auras Zuo Meng sensed earlier clustered here. The second-floor nail was bait—real treasures lay above.

At a glance, he detected items with energies like the nail, but none useful.

“Dust powder?”

His eyes landed on a corner stash.

“Alchemists use it. Tomb raiders ward off chill with it too. Rare stuff—grab it now. This six-month stock’s all we have left.”

“Six months?”

Zuo Meng frowned. The timeline felt long.

The amount here paled compared to his Gu family haul. Worse, it was diluted—bulky but energy-poor. He’d checked the Gu family earlier but found nothing. They probably couldn’t tell pure dust powder from fake. To others, it was all the same—only Zuo Meng sensed its energy. The Gus had lucked into high-purity stock once; later batches were worthless.

“Dust powder’s scarce. We restock every six months.”

“Where from?”

The helper clammed up despite Zuo Meng’s sect status.

Absorption required touch. Zuo Meng tried stealthily but failed—counter barriers? Fake powder’s low value made him abandon the effort. He left and booked a nearby room.

Fake or not, the counter’s dust powder held enough energy for ten years’ internal strength—worth stealing.

“Ten extra years? Worth the risk.”

He drank deeply, ready for his risk-free heist.

Night.

Black-clad and hatted, Zuo Meng slipped through a window to the roof.

Heifeng Zhai slept quietly, day guards replaced by night shifts. The strongest aura guarded the innermost vault. Four others patrolled, one near materials.

Channeling energy to his feet, Zuo Meng crept to his scouted spot. He lifted a roof tile and lowered a black hook.

“Too far to notice.”

Dust powder wasn’t top-tier—twenty similar materials sat upstairs, plus pricier manuals and weapons. His daytime visit had been reconnaissance.

The hook descended.

“Got it.”

It clamped the dust powder jar.

He reeled it up slowly—

“WHO’S THERE?!”

A shout erupted below.