Chapter 333: A Little Display of Skill, Give This World a Shock!
In the surveillance footage “coincidentally” captured after the Rainy Night Killer committed his crimes, it was shown that—
This guy always covered his face, or just happened to be wearing a mask when he was caught on camera.
Lahman touched his chin, seeming to have figured out some of the logic.
“Could this guy have a special constitution? Could he freely transform his body on rainy nights, misleading the patrol team’s judgment? And looking at these recordings, he seems to deliberately show his height and some other features in front of the cameras after committing his crimes, so everyone would misjudge? That way, whenever he faces danger, he can just change his height and slip through.”
The more Lahman thought about it, the more he felt it was possible, because from these recordings, the guy seemed to know where the cameras were but pretended not to as he walked past.
If he really didn’t know, he should have exposed more information—like gender and appearance—but here only his height was exposed.
If he analyzed it this way, Lahman felt he only needed to find the person who [appeared at the crime scene] and was [around 1.9 meters tall] and [31 years old].
Whether or not he was the Rainy Night Killer, that was his target.
Lahman checked the time. It was now 7:10.
In fifty minutes, the Ghost Market would open.
If he wanted to complete the hidden mission, at most he had six hours—from 8 PM to 2 AM—to clear the Ghost Market and then head to Fengming District to find the Rainy Night Killer.
He felt this level didn’t give him as much time as the previous one.
He just didn’t know if this money would be enough. If not, forget the hidden mission—even the normal mission wouldn’t be passable.
The Rainy Night Killer matter could wait. He could go check out the Ghost Market and look for items or even special information that could deal with the Rainy Night Killer.
With that in mind, Lahman found a place with no one around and opened the map he had bought in the tomb.
This map was different from the ones humans had—it had many special marked locations.
These were places ordinary people couldn’t access.
Among them was the location of the Ghost Market.
But Lahman flipped through the news mentioning Fengming District.
“Huh, why are there some strange symbols here?”
Lahman noticed that on this map, some locations were marked.
And these locations were residential buildings.
After checking the detailed explanations marked at the bottom of the map, it said these places had very heavy yin energy.
Could this be a hint?
After all, Fengming District wasn’t small—it had a population of over a hundred thousand.
How was he supposed to find the Rainy Night Killer? He could indeed start from these places.
He remembered the old blind man saying that his target was an extremely yin constitution, who might really like yin energy.
With that thought, Lahman headed toward where the Ghost Market was located.
This was an old neighborhood—neither bustling nor deserted.
The area was quite large, like one of those antique districts.
There wasn’t much business during the day, but at night, more people came and went.
Among the Chosen Ones, the first to arrive here was naturally Zhang Yangqing.
He had three guides—and these three were tomb raiders who often dealt with the things they obtained in places like this.
According to the three of them, this was the antique trading market of the old city district.
Through wind and rain, through the changing years, the old city district had also gone through rise and fall. Many places had been renovated, but this antique trading market had remained.
After all, this world was different from the world Zhang Yangqing came from. Some things didn’t follow the rules, but no one cared.
Overall, it was the upper echelon turning a blind eye—otherwise, the lower class wouldn’t be able to survive, and there would be riots.
Zhang Yangqing arrived here at 6:30 in the afternoon.
Despite being old, the place had an ancient charm.
As soon as Zhang Yangqing walked in, he could feel a rich atmosphere, as if he had walked through a long river of time.
Glazed tiles and redwood buildings were everywhere. You could see many shops with signs reading “Century-Old Shop”—and they really weren’t bragging.
There were also many small stalls along the street selling artificially aged antiques.
There was one principle here: no returns after purchase.
Whether you made a profit or a loss, you had to accept it.
Zhang Yangqing had come early—it wasn’t time for the Ghost Market to open yet—so the three tomb raiders began chattering away, introducing the place to Zhang Yangqing.
Ever since witnessing Zhang Yangqing’s abilities, these three had been like lapdogs, following his every lead with the utmost humility.
The old shops here mainly dealt in talismanic calligraphy and paintings by famous masters—placed at home, they could ward off evil and improve feng shui. The more expensive ones could even enhance one’s cultivation to some degree.
Some of the more newly decorated shops mainly sold modern crafts—stone lions, finely carved wooden dragons, and the like—placed at entrances to guard homes and courtyards.
The rest were the street stalls set up in corners—just a person and a cloth.
On the cloth were placed small items of unknown origin.
These people wouldn’t show up in broad daylight, but they’d come once it got dark.
In the daytime, with the sun shining bright, it wouldn’t do to be exposed as selling fakes.
At night, with the light dim, it was harder to tell real items from fake.
The main goal was to fool whoever they could.
This place actually had nothing to do with the black market—it was just a gateway to the black market.
According to the information Zhang Yangqing had bought in the tomb, after 8 PM, some shops would hang white-edged red lanterns at their doors.
All you had to do was enter the shop with the white-edged red lantern, find the owner, pay an entrance fee—Ghost Coins—and the owner would take you into the Ghost Market.
Normally, the Chosen Ones would arrive after 7 PM and just squat at a street corner for a while.
Zhang Yangqing had come early—arriving at 6:30. Even with three guides chatting to pass the time, he still needed to find a place to sit—he couldn’t just stand there.
But he only had Ghost Coins on him—no currency that circulated in the human world.
As for the valuable beads he had—since he’d said they were reward items for the three tomb raiders, he would keep his word.
How to get some money? Zhang Yangqing began pondering this question.
As he passed a calligraphy and painting shop, he had a flash of inspiration.
He told the three tomb raiders to get him a sheet of paper, a brush, and some ink.
Though they didn’t know what Zhang Yangqing wanted these for, whatever this big shot employer said, they had to obey.
A big shot of this caliber definitely wouldn’t mess with them.
After all, the three of them were regulars in this area—rice paper, ink, brushes—these cheap things, they could still get their hands on.
Rice paper and ink were plentiful in some shops—they were provided for customers to try out brushes.
But brushes were harder to find, so the three of them gritted their teeth, pooled some money, and bought Zhang Yangqing a brush worth less than a hundred yuan.
But when they handed it to Zhang Yangqing, they said they’d found it.
Zhang Yangqing could tell, but didn’t say anything.
After all, judging by their efficiency—though not as excellent as the Snake-Eye lackey, nor as perfect as the One-Eyed kid—they were indeed qualified.
Zhang Yangqing picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and after thinking for a moment, decided to keep a low profile.
So he casually wrote the character “One” on the rice paper.
Then he handed it to the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider—since this one seemed the sharpest.
“Take this to the calligraphy shop owner, then make this gesture.”
As he spoke, Zhang Yangqing held up two fingers.
“Boss, you want to sell this character for twenty thousand?”
The Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider held the calligraphy, confused.
Though he didn’t know how impressive this character was, since it came from this big shot’s hand, it shouldn’t be cheap.
After all, he’d initially been about to say two thousand, but thinking that might be disrespectful to the big shot, he said twenty thousand.
In their eyes, only calligraphy and paintings with long histories were valuable. This freshly written character—even if artificially aged—wouldn’t be worth much.
“Don’t worry about how much. Just make this gesture to the owner. Remember, only show it to the owner.”
Zhang Yangqing couldn’t be bothered to explain. He’d already tried to depreciate this piece of calligraphy as much as possible—he was afraid that if he wrote at his true level, it would bring a massive shock to this world.
The Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider nodded and left with the Fat Guy, leaving one behind to await Zhang Yangqing’s orders.
This distribution was indeed quite reasonable.
When they reached the entrance of a rather familiar shop, the Fat Guy whispered doubtfully, “Bro, is this thing really worth money?”
He wasn’t doubting Zhang Yangqing’s ability—it was just that something written so casually was worth twenty thousand?
If that were true, he’d write every day.
The Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider glared at him and said, “You can’t question the big shot. We’re just lackeys—know your place.”
His look was telling the Fat Guy that the big shot was not to be trifled with—just do what the big shot says.
As for how to be a lackey, the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider had some experience.
After seeing the Fat Guy shut up, the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider actually felt uncertain himself.
Could this thing really be worth that much?
Soon, he did as Zhang Yangqing had said—entered the calligraphy shop, claimed he had good merchandise, refused the clerk’s inspection, and insisted on seeing the owner.
After all, he was somewhat acquainted with the owner here—though whether someone of the owner’s level knew him was another matter.
Before long, an owner wearing a hat, holding a string of beads in his left hand and wearing a thumb ring on his right, came out.
Generally speaking, someone of his level didn’t easily meet guests. Today he happened to be in the shop, heard from the clerk that there was a treasure, and came to take a look.
At a glance, he could tell these two were tomb raiders—years of working underground gave them a distinctive smell.
As an antique shop owner who frequently dealt with such people, he was naturally familiar with them.
Following the principle that every visitor is a guest, he warmly exchanged pleasantries on the surface.
Then he got straight to the point, asking what they wanted to sell.
The Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider sneakily took out the “character” Zhang Yangqing had just written.
He’d actually prepared himself to be cursed out by the owner, but the big shot employer had said to do this, so he had to.
When the antique shop owner saw the quality of the paper, his face showed disgust, as if saying: Even if you’re going to fake aging, put some effort in, would you? This paper is just common rice paper—the cheapest kind.
Seeing this, the antique shop owner was about to get up and leave.
But when the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider unrolled the rolled-up character, the antique shop owner instantly felt himself pulled into some special world.
In this pure white world, he could feel an unprecedented tranquility.
Every moment his consciousness spent in this world, he felt his understanding of the great Dao of heaven and earth increase by a fraction.
When he came back to his senses, he was drenched all over, as if his entire being had been elevated.
“Incredible, truly incredible—this is a divine object!”
The antique shop owner was deeply shaken. Just one look at this thing could elevate his soul.
What kind of wondrous, miraculous calligraphy was this? It was something he had never seen before—it felt like it didn’t belong to this world, like something from the so-called “immortal realm.”
After catching his breath, the antique shop owner glanced at the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider and, forcing himself to stay calm, asked, “May I ask, how much are you selling this character for?”
You could tell his tone had lowered—no longer as arrogant as before.
He was actually betting that the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider didn’t know its true value—after all, running a business, wasn’t it all about making more profit?
This thing didn’t feel like much to ordinary people, but in the eyes of an expert like the general store owner, it was a treasure.
The Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider, following Zhang Yangqing’s instructions, made the “two” gesture.
The antique shop owner tentatively said, “Two million?”
When he saw the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider’s expression shift slightly, he prepared to raise the price.
After all, this thing—forget two million—even twenty million would be profitable.
If presented to the three great families, it might even earn him some power and status.
The antique shop owner thought he’d bid too low and the tomb raider had noticed.
But what he didn’t expect was that the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider said, “Deal!”
Because he also seemed to think the antique shop owner was getting senile—this casual stroke, he wasn’t even sure if it could sell for twenty thousand, and you’re giving me two million?
He was afraid the antique shop owner would regret it, so he immediately started the transaction.
Because according to the rules of this street, once a deal was made, whether profit or loss, there was no going back.
The antique shop owner was also stunned—this guy didn’t know its value! Selling it to me for two million?
If you’d hesitated for even two seconds, I could have raised it to twenty million.
The antique shop owner was also afraid the tomb raider would regret it, so he immediately tossed out a gold card worth over two million.
He didn’t even want the change—afraid the tomb raider would suddenly come to his senses.
This transaction was shockingly fast—so fast that the Fat Guy and the clerk watching nearby were at a loss.
They just saw that after the antique shop owner and the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider completed their transaction—
One grabbed the calligraphy and ran to the inner courtyard; the other grabbed the gold card and ran out the door.
Both sides thought the other was an idiot, terrified the other would renege.
In this transaction, no one seemed to feel they’d lost out—both felt they’d made a huge profit.
The Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider’s hand was trembling as he held the gold card. He truly hadn’t expected a simple character to sell for two million.
How was the owner so blind—or had the big shot employer used some kind of illusion?
The Fat Guy beside him, upon seeing this gold card, kept swallowing nervously.
So much money—enough for them to live it up for a while.
But the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider pocketed the card and said, “This belongs to the big shot employer. Put away that look in your eyes.”
He was warning the Fat Guy not to get any ideas. Whatever level that big shot was at—as lackeys, they could only envy, never overstep.
“Listen to yourself—I was just looking.”
The Fat Guy retorted quietly, unconvinced, but he still swallowed his drool.
After all, he was greedy, not stupid. Since the big shot could make two million with a casual stroke, he couldn’t even imagine how much those beads were worth.
But as tomb raiders, they only knew beads were worth over a million—they didn’t know the exact price.
Actually, they weren’t high-level cultivators, so they couldn’t see these things.
Beads without energy were just mundane objects—valuable, but not much.
Items with energy—even a sheet of paper—were worth tens of thousands in gold.
Not to mention these two didn’t understand—even most of the audience didn’t understand. How could a casual stroke from Zhang Tianshi be worth so much?
: Can someone explain what just happened? I looked at that stroke—it doesn’t seem that special.
: Maybe Zhang Tianshi turned that paper into some kind of valuable item—we just can’t tell. Didn’t you notice? That yellow paper at the general store warehouse entrance—even the Red-Clothed Oddity couldn’t get in.
: Zhang Tianshi is simply divine—he’s maximized his home-field advantage!
: I want calligraphy personally written by Zhang Tianshi too! Money’s not an issue! Forget two million—I’d pay ten million!
: Ten million? Please. I bid fifty million.
: That’s it…
The big screen started getting weird. At first everyone thought these people were just running their mouths.
Later, even some wealthy people from Dragon Country directly revealed their identities, willing to pay high prices for Zhang Yangqing’s calligraphy.
This made the audience restless—they hadn’t expected Zhang Tianshi’s writing to really be so valuable.
But in the end, one person posted a bullet comment that silenced everyone.
: You guys have money, but Zhang Tianshi doesn’t lack money.
That comment made those wealthy Dragon Country people stop bidding—and even try to delete what they’d said.
After all, he seemed to be right. Could mere money make the Tianshi act?
And using money to measure the Tianshi—that was an insult to him.
Out of respect for Zhang Yangqing, the bullet comments stopped discussing money.
Su Muyu saw this comment, froze for a moment, then felt like cursing out the person who posted it.
I was just about to have Zhang Yangqing write more after he gets out so I could sell them—and you just had to ruin it, didn’t you?
Despicable! Now that you’ve all said that, I can’t even bring myself to ask him to write!
Maybe Zhang Yangqing doesn’t care about money, but as the person in charge of Longhu Mountain’s finances, he does!
But thinking about it, Su Muyu had an idea—since they couldn’t sell them outside, having Zhang Yangqing make some magical tools for the disciples would work too.
It could save a huge amount of expenses.
He refused to believe that Zhang Yangqing could write calligraphy but couldn’t make magical tools—they were all connected!
Zhang Yangqing had no idea that his casual stroke had exposed his abilities again.
If he’d known this would happen, he wouldn’t have written it for anything.
Wasn’t this just adding to his workload!
Inside the Strange Tales World, the Bamboo Pole Tomb Raider ran joyfully to Zhang Yangqing and handed him the gold card.
The Bamboo Pole and the Fat Guy began enthusiastically flattering Zhang Yangqing, saying his stroke was divine—one character worth a thousand in gold!
The Fat Guy even regarded Zhang Yangqing as a miracle worker who could turn the mundane into the magical.
Free rice paper, free ink, plus a brush worth less than a hundred yuan—and he could write characters worth two million. They felt calling Zhang Yangqing a miracle worker was no exaggeration at all.
Zhang Yangqing wasn’t proud because of their flattery—after all, in his eyes, their words weren’t flattery; they were simply the truth.
A casual stroke from Zhang Yangqing could be considered a stroke of fortune.
That was also why, at the general store, those three Oddities, upon seeing the characters Zhang Yangqing wrote, were so grateful they wanted to kneel and kowtow.
They’d gotten them for free—how could they not be excited?
And this was still Zhang Yangqing suppressing his level.
If he really showed even a little of his true skill, it would definitely give this world a shock!
