I crouched in the corner of the balcony, sighing at the cactus I'd been keeping for eight years — the one that had somehow developed spiritual energy after I'd accidentally exposed it to my Qi-Drawing Technique practice. The thing now sprouted one faintly glowing spine every single day, and touching it felt like getting electrocuted. Of course, River thought it was "Dad's super cactus" and kept trying to challenge it to a duel with his Ultraman cards.

"Ding! Side quest 'Secrets of the Old Neighbourhood' is at 15% completion. Host is advised to pick up the pace — stop moping on the balcony staring at spines like a garden snail!" The old man's voice jangled around inside my head like a rusty bicycle bell.

"Old Zhang literally just told me not to rush, and here you are nagging me nonstop."

"You already got Zhang to tell you about Baizhen Pavilion, didn't you? Those old folks down at the market — which one of them isn't better informed than you?"

I pressed my freshly-pricked finger — the cactus had drawn blood again — and squinted down toward the market below. It was peak morning rush hour. The shouting from the vendors punched through three floors of walls like they'd been injected with rocket fuel. I thought about Old Zhang's walking stick that could draw transmission talismans, and Auntie Wang's "levitation technique" for hanging shoe insoles mid-air — and suddenly I felt like that little market might be more dangerous than any secret realm I'd ever stumbled into.

"Fine, I'll go." I wiped the bleeding finger on my trouser leg. "But I'm saying this upfront — if some old lady selling eggplants slaps me into a Ethan Lu-brand persimmon cake with her qi, I'm dropping this busted ring straight into the toilet and flushing."

"Idiot!" The elder's holographic projection flickered above the ring and rolled its eyes, cradling a tiny virtual tea-boiled egg. "Every stall in that market uses low-grade spirit stones as counterweights. You think Old Zhou's cucumbers are crunchier than everyone else's? Because he grows them under a Water Spirit Talisman, that's why!"

I tucked the Breaker Blade and the meteoric iron chopping board into a canvas shopping bag — maintaining appearances — and strolled down to the market. Old Wang's fish stall had drawn its usual crowd. He was holding court with spectacular enthusiasm: "Look at these fish eyes! Shining like diamonds! All thanks to young Lu here teaching me his 'spiritual qi freshness method'!"

I squeezed to the front of the stall and lowered my voice. "Uncle Wang, I need to ask you something."

He didn't look up, just scooped his net into the tank to catch a fish. "Young Ethan, you asking about that meteoric iron chopping board? Old Zhang was just saying yesterday you used the thing to shave a potato into crisps!"

"It's not about the board." I glanced at the aunties nearby who were shamelessly eavesdropping with their ears practically on stalks. "The Baizhen Pavilion crowd — do you know where they usually hang out? That one with the gold-rimmed glasses, the one who came and caused trouble at my stall last time."

Uncle Wang's hand paused mid-scoop. The net swayed in the water — and somehow, several fish swam directly into it on their own. He set the fish on the scale with unhurried calm. The counterweight gave a small ding, and I could now clearly make out a tiny character carved into it: Suppress. Back when I was at the third level of Qi Refinement I hadn't noticed a thing — now my heart lurched. Who exactly had I been buying vegetables from all those years before I lost my job...

"Baizhen Pavilion." Uncle Wang wrapped up the fish while speaking in a voice only I could hear. "The biggest restaurant in the city centre — that's their front. But don't go poking around there, son. They've got a spirit-gathering array set up. You're only at the fourth level — walking in there would be like delivering takeout."

"I just want to know where their base is." I pressed on. "Look, they're the ones hunting me down. I at least need to know where the enemy is."

Uncle Wang stuffed the packaged fish into my hands, then drew a circle around my feet with his cane. A faint current of spiritual qi rose up and enclosed the two of us inside it. The surrounding noise dropped away instantly.

"Son, it's not that I won't tell you." Uncle Wang's expression turned serious. "Baizhen Pavilion has people backing it. Whatever's buried under that spirit-gathering array — even those of us here don't dare touch it lightly. That small array you destroyed on your own rooftop the other day? You've already stirred the hornets' nest."

The words had barely left his mouth when I felt a cold, ominous presence seep in from the market entrance. I looked up. Sure enough — the purchasing manager with the gold-rimmed glasses, flanked by two heavies in black suits, their cuffs rolled just enough to show the familiar fish-scale tattoos.

"Mr. Lu. We meet again." Gold-Rims curved his lips into a cold smile, eyes locked onto the canvas bag in my arms. "Word is you've been playing 'artificial rainfall' around the neighbourhood these past few days. Quite the hobby."

The aunties around us went dead silent. They gripped their vegetable baskets tight, eyes darting back and forth between me and Gold-Rims. I noticed one of them quietly squeezing a tomato in her hand — and the juice that oozed out didn't fall. It crystallised in mid-air into tiny, needle-sharp beads of ice.

"Say what you came to say." I shifted the canvas bag behind my back. The meteoric iron chopping board inside was growing warm. "And don't block other people's shopping."

End of Chapter 20: The Market Knows More Than You Think