My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 118 - Tie Sha Vows Allegiance, the Underworld Gates of the Black Market Open - Part 3

Chapter 118 - Tie Sha Vows Allegiance, the Underworld Gates of the Black Market Open - Part 3

Upon arriving at the Blood Fury Hall, a disciple led him to the rear chamber. There, Li Yuan found Tie Sha standing alone at the window, a strangely intense look on his face. When Tie Sha saw Li Yuan, he stood abruptly.

Li Yuan bowed respectfully. “Greetings, Sect Master. I’ve been working hard on my training these days, hoping to become a qualified beastmaster soon.”

Tie Sha said nothing, simply continued to stare at him.

Li Yuan added, “I’ve managed to tame two more blackrock mastiffs recently...”

Tie Sha’s throat bobbed, and he took a deep breath.

Startled by Tie Sha’s odd expression, Li Yuan asked, “Sect Master...is something wrong?”

Tie Sha said quietly, “The Fragrant General is dead. Word outside is that our Blood Blade Patriarch did it.”

Li Yuan nodded casually. “All hail the Patriarch. With him watching over the Blood Blade Sect, our defenses are unbreakable.”

Tie Sha swallowed hard. He lowered his voice. “When the Fragrant General was killed...you weren’t at home.”

“Huh?” Li Yuan blinked. “Uh...I...I was out hunting.”

Tie Sha pressed on carefully. “When the Sun-Wei alliance broke into the inner district, you were right here in town.”

Li Yuan fell silent.

Tie Sha continued, “And Ren—the one who died so suddenly—he had a grudge against you.”

Li Yuan said nothing, maintaining a neutral expression.

“Of course,” Tie Sha hastened to say, “all of this is circumstantial, and none of it proves anything, Senior. I mean no disrespect. I only thought, if you truly do have needs, you might want someone to handle them for you. And so...”

He abruptly dropped to his knees, bowing low. “If you’re willing to accept me, I, Tie Sha, wish to become your adopted son. I swear I will fulfill my filial duty. Whatever you require, I will carry it out.”

It wasn’t that Tie Sha was absolutely certain Li Yuan was the so-called Blood Blade Patriarch; he was about fifty percent sure. But that was more than enough for him to take a risk. Worst case, if he guessed wrong, he’d only look foolish.

Li Yuan regarded him for a moment, then said, “Rise, Sect Master Tie.”

Tie Sha’s powerful frame trembled, the words echoing in his ears like a silent admission. Any lingering hesitation vanished instantly. With humility and deep reverence, he stammered, “F-father—”

“I'm not your father,” Li Yuan interrupted sharply, his brows furrowed as he struggled to navigate this sudden development.

Tie Sha's mind was already settled. No amount of denial would sway him now. He was utterly convinced Li Yuan was an ancient master masuerading in a youthful form. How such a powerful figure had regained their youth was irrelevant. Old monsters always had mysterious means beyond mortal understanding.

“Just treat me as you always have,” Li Yuan said. “If anything important happens, let me know. That’s all.”

Tie Sha nodded reverently, then murmured, “Understood, Patriarch. From now on, the Blood Blade Sect stands ready at your command.”

After a brief pause, Li Yuan added, “Actually, there is something I need you to keep an eye on.”

He told Tie Sha about Zhao Xiantong and General Mammoth withdrawing. “Have our scouts watch the entrance near Antelope Pass. Stay informed of any movements around the area. Don’t let them slip in unnoticed.”

“Yes, Patriarch.” Tie Sha, already stunned to learn all Li Yuan had done in just a few days, bowed again.

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In the following days, Li Yuan and Tie Sha spoke at length on various matters. Only during a casual chat did Li Yuan subtly bring up the question that had been nagging him.

“In the Central Plains, there are those who can watch others through animals, perhaps even demonic beasts. Sect Master Tie, have you heard anything about that?”

Tie Sha paused, then replied softly, “I’ve heard a few rumors. In the Central Plains, there’s a secretive people called undying husks. They’re rumored to have unbelievable powers, including the ability to see through animals or even demonic beasts.

“Old Ding once told me these undying husks are all people who should have died but somehow didn’t—those who entered ghost domains, encountered spirits, and escaped death for inexplicable reasons. Their souls changed, their personalities grew eerily strange. By all rights, they’re already dead—yet they keep walking, existing in a human form. Hence the name undying husks or walking dead."

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Deep in a grim black-market district, wooden wheels creaked as a cart carrying fresh goods arrived. Having learned from past mistakes, the slave traders searched these new captives thoroughly and made sure no one could slip too close to them.

Feng’er sat against the cold iron bars, straw prickling beneath her. All she could see was thick black cloth blocking the outside world. She stared dully into the distance, having been beaten into silence during prior training. Now, she had no idea where she was.

She had once tried claiming to be a friend of the wife of Elder Li from Gemhill County, hoping that might earn her a reward if someone let her go. But she’d seen what happened to another captive—a woman who insisted she was related to some high official. The brokers whipped her mercilessly, warning all livestock to remember their place and not to speak nonsense.

Feng’er refused to give up at first. She shouted, pleaded, until her own body was lashed again and again. Eventually, she learned to keep quiet. The slave traders sneered that everyone pretended to have powerful connections; it meant nothing.

And so, Feng’er was taken to the black market, though she didn’t know which one. She’d never even stepped foot in a black market before. All she knew was that occasionally someone came by, lifted a corner of the cloth, and looked them over the way one might inspect goods.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Over the next few days, the girl beside her was taken away, and a couple more captives after that. No one picked Feng’er, possibly because the despair in her eyes was too unsettling. Maybe her fury and bitterness ran too deep, or maybe she simply looked beyond saving. Time wore on, winter nearing its end. Then a cold, pale snowstorm struck suddenly.

Feng’er began coughing violently, hunching forward in the straw. Specks of blood stained her lips, yet her expression remained blank. The slave traders, fearing contagion, decided to toss her out in the morning, away from the other goods.

But at dawn, when they pulled back the heavy curtain, they found her cold and lifeless. She was gone. The slave trader hired a day laborer to take her body away and bury it.

That laborer pocketed his payment, but he couldn’t be bothered to dig a grave. So he wrapped her in a straw mat, stuffed it all into a burlap sack weighted with stones, and under the cover of night tossed it into the nearby lake in Silver Creek before heading off.

The sack sank deeper and deeper into the dark waters. Yet around it swirled an almost tangible miasma of resentment—clinging to a hazy, human-shaped spirit. That spectral figure drifted upwards, buoyed by hatred, until it broke through the lake’s surface. Then, from somewhere in the depths of the central market, a powerful pull yanked the wraith onward.

On its way, that translucent shape tore and distorted, mutating into something grotesque and unrecognizable. The moment it entered the heart of the black market, it was as if some dormant threshold had been breached. Like a detonated charge, a hidden checkpoint exploded into unholy life.

A decaying stench of corpses spread in all directions; a dark, filthy cot buckled from beneath, as though some monstrous entity was pushing upward against the wooden boards. On that snowy night, a dreadful pounding noise began in the darkness—a door banging over and over without cease.

Time crawled. Eventually, around midnight, a weary slave trader yawned as he ambled past, returning to Silver Creek after a long trip. He muttered to himself about how he wanted to get some sleep. Just then, his ears caught a sharp, unnatural creaking, like a door being forced open at a skewed angle.

The slave trader cursed under his breath, assuming it was just his imagination, and continued on. He took only a few more steps before his neck abruptly twisted at a horrible angle. Bones cracked. His eyes bulged, and he collapsed onto the snow, dead without a sound.