She should really find a middle or late Jindan cultivator next time to see how much she could handle.
After a moment, she walked up to Li Zhenyu, who was still lying there, trying to remember how to breathe properly.
Reaching into his robes, she pulled out the demon core.
"Thanks. Consider this my payment for that kick earlier."
Then, without so much as another glance, she pocketed the core and strode off, leaving Li Zhenyu behind like yesterday's garbage.
He lay there in silence, staring up at the sky.
A long moment passed.
Then, with great effort, he pushed himself up, a complicated expression on his face.
That single palm strike had been enough to make him rethink everything.
He had been so sure that the leopard monster was killed by his precious Junior Sister Xiao Yu.
But now?
His fingers twitched. His eyes flickered with hesitation.
Was it really her... or was it that damned Pang Pang?
His thoughts warred in his mind.
And yet, in the end, he still made his decision.
Xiao Yu was delicate, pretty, and loved by all. Compared to Xiao Pang, who was just... pang pang, he much preferred pampering his adorable junior sister.
No matter what the truth was, in his heart-
Xiao Yu was still the hero of the story.
.
.
.
Willowmere.
The capital of all the four sect.
The streets were alive with the chatter of market sellers and the scent of freshly cooked food wafting through the air. Even though this world lacked electricity, lanterns flickered along the road, casting a warm, golden glow. Candles burned in some stalls, their light minimal but enough for people to navigate the bustling night market.
It was late—just a few hours until midnight. Most travelers would have already secured a place to stay for the night, seeking shelter and rest.
But not Divya.
She had something far more pressing.
The object in her possession was dangerous—too dangerous to keep on her for long. A demon core.
She needed to sell it. Fast.
Demon cores could be refined into pills, making them incredibly valuable. A single demon pill could rival the effects of century-old ginseng, curing illnesses and strengthening one's body. It was a treasure to many, but to her?
It was useless.
She didn't know how to refine it. Hell, she didn't even know if consuming it would kill her. Her body was already different from others, and she had no intention of gambling with her life over something she didn't understand.
Selling it, however, would bring her a hefty sum.
More importantly, it would free her from the unwanted attention that came with possessing such an item.
Back at that sect, they wouldn't even let her take a few measly coins when she left. Not that she had expected generosity from them, but it meant she had nothing to her name.
That was about to change.
After asking around, she made her way to the only place that could handle a sale like this—
The black market.
Because no matter the world, no matter the era—
There would always be a black market.
The moment she stepped into the underground trade district, a small smile flickered across her lips. The air was thick with the scent of metal, ink, and something faintly acrid—perhaps alchemical materials or rare herbs. Traders called out their wares, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd for potential buyers.
Now, she just needed to find the right buyer.
In this world, cultivation and alchemy followed entirely different paths.
Cultivators focused on strengthening their bodies and souls through spiritual energy, while alchemists relied on their own comprehension, spiritual plants, and—most importantly—spiritual fire to refine pills. Unlike cultivation, an alchemist's skill wasn't determined by their realm but by their understanding and the quality of their materials.
And one of the best sources of spiritual fire?
Monster inner pills.
That's why demon pills were always in high demand. Even the inner pill of a lowly first-level leopard monster, like the one in Divya's hand, could fetch at least ten Gold coins.
But there was just one tiny problem.
She looked down at herself—gray, patched-up clothes, dirt-streaked hands, and a general air of someone who definitely wasn't supposed to be carrying something this valuable.
No legitimate store was going to accept a beggar child waltzing in with a demon pill.
Hence, the black market.
With a sigh, Divya tugged her tattered sleeves down and began weaving her way through the underground stalls. The air was thick with the scent of incense and burning herbs, and merchants eyed her with suspicion. She stopped by several vendors, trying to get the best deal, but her appearance made negotiations very difficult.
In the end, she managed to sell the demon pill for seven Gold coins.
It was a loss, but considering her current miserable state, she'd take it.
She clenched the spirit stones tightly in her palm, feeling a mix of triumph and exhaustion.
Finally, some money in her pocket. Now… she just needed to figure out what to do next.
"Little brother, why are you wandering around outside at such a young age?"
Little brother?
Divya blinked, pointing at herself. Me? Brother?
The shop owner nodded, completely serious.
"Yes, little brother."
Divya looked down at herself, then back at the man, then back at herself. Oh. That explained a lot. She was so covered in dirt that even her own mother might not recognize her. Her oversized, patched robe did nothing to help—baggy, shapeless, and a color so lifeless it made dust look vibrant. And her hair? Long, yes, but ancient men had long hair too. The confusion was understandable.
She considered correcting him but then thought better of it. If people assumed she was a boy, it might actually save her some trouble—especially when carrying money. Girls with money? That was practically an invitation for disaster.
So, she did what any logical person in her situation would do—she deepened her voice slightly and nodded solemnly.
"My family died early."
The shop owner's face softened in sympathy. "Ah, I see."
He handed her a steaming bowl of noodles, and just like that, she had successfully earned both dinner and unexpected life insurance.