Chapter 7 - Market

The morning sun bathed the bustling marketplace in a golden hue, casting long shadows as merchants called out their wares to eager customers. The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasted meat, exotic spices, and fresh parchment, creating a vibrant atmosphere that pulsed with life. Stalls lined the streets, displaying everything from shimmering weapons and engraved talismans to intricate jewelry and peculiar trinkets.

Amidst the crowd, Kazel walked alongside his father, his gaze flickering across the various goods on display. He wasn't unfamiliar with the sight of a market—he had seen his fair share of trade hubs in his past life—but this was different. The items sold here weren't just for common folk; many held a mysterious aura, proof that they were imbued with some form of spiritual energy.

Kazel frowned slightly as he sidestepped a child running past him with a steaming bun in hand. "What are we doing here again?" he asked, his skepticism evident.

His father smirked. "You want to integrate with a spirit beast, right? This is the best place to get one."

Kazel narrowed his eyes and looked around. There were plenty of interesting wares, but nothing that remotely hinted at spirit beasts. The stalls were filled with weapons, armor, scrolls, and even rare herbs—but no creatures in sight. 

"You know, this is a market, right?" Kazel shot his father a pointed look. "Since when do spirit beasts get sold alongside trinkets and dried fish?"

"Be patient," his father chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. 

Kazel exhaled through his nose. ( He's enjoying keeping me in the dark, isn't he? ) He hated vague answers, but he chose to hold his tongue. If there was anything he had learned from years of leading armies and ruling nations, it was that patience was a weapon in itself.

They weaved through the market, passing vendors selling talismans that glowed faintly, and blacksmiths demonstrating their craftsmanship by striking molten metal with resonating force. A group of cultivators stood near a stall, inspecting a set of engraved rings, their robes indicating they belonged to a minor sect.

Then, as they turned a corner, Kazel finally saw something different.

A large tent stood at the edge of the market, draped in thick red fabric, its entrance guarded by two men clad in black armor. A faint but distinct energy pulsed from within, sending a tingling sensation down Kazel's spine.

His father stopped in front of the tent and gestured towards it. "This," he said, "is where you'll find what you're looking for."

Kazel raised a brow. ( Finally. ) "So spirit beasts are sold here?"

With that, they stepped forward, the guards silently parting to let them through.

Inside, the dim lighting cast flickering shadows along the red-draped walls, giving the place an eerie, secretive atmosphere. A faint incense-like aroma lingered in the air, adding to the mystique. At the center of the room sat a low wooden desk, covered in a red tablecloth embroidered with intricate golden patterns.

Behind the desk was an old man, his frail form barely moving as he sat in quiet repose. His face, adorned with deep lines of hardship, spoke of years filled with struggle. The bagginess beneath his dull eyes suggested failing vision, yet there was an undeniable sharpness in the way he acknowledged their presence. His hands, thin and veined, moved with a practiced grace as he gestured towards the desk, revealing three peculiar objects laid out before them.

A dark rabbit's foot, its fur deep black and unnervingly glossy.

A shimmering tail, reflecting faint hues of gold.

A twin tusk, rough and ivory-white, jagged as if torn straight from a beast mid-battle.

Kazel frowned. He had expected caged spirit beasts or something remotely resembling a living creature, yet all he saw were fragments. ( What is this? Spirit beasts turned into trinkets? ) His gaze flickered to his father, but his father remained silent, his expression unreadable.

The old man let out a dry chuckle, his voice like rustling leaves. "If it isn't Noel from the illustrious Immortal Sect," he mused, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. "I see you brought your kid with you."

Kazel didn't miss the hint of nostalgia in his tone. ( He's known Father for a long time. ) Still, that wasn't what concerned him. His eyes returned to the items on the table. "Are you selling beast parts?" he asked, his skepticism evident.

The old man chuckled again, but this time it carried a hint of amusement. "Not quite, boy," he said. "These aren't just remnants—they're the essence of the beasts themselves." He leaned forward slightly, his pale fingers brushing over the rabbit's foot. "You're not here to buy a caged pet. You're here to forge an integration… and these are your choices."

Noel nodded approvingly. "Exactly. You don't need a living beast to integrate with it. What we seek is the soul, the essence of the beast. A piece of its body can serve as a conduit, summoning its spirit into your soul space. Of course, here, every piece has been meticulously selected, ensuring the essence remains intact."

Kazel crossed his arms, glancing at the three objects on the table before turning back to Noel. "So, let's say I find a pig beast, and I only have its hind leg—there's still a chance I can integrate with it?"

"That's correct," the old man chimed in, his raspy voice carrying a weight of experience. "However, if you ever come across a part of a spirit beast and you're uncertain what it belongs to, it's highly advisable not to tamper with it. The unknown could be more than you can handle. That being said…" A sly smile crept onto his lips. "If you're the gambling type, well, that's your decision."

Kazel hummed in thought. ( Interesting. So as long as I have a fragment of a beast, I have a shot at claiming it. ) But then another question surfaced in his mind. "What about this, then? Suppose I have the hind leg of a pig beast, and a friend of mine happens to find the other hind leg. What happens?"

The old man chuckled, tapping a bony finger against the desk. "The first one to integrate it will own the spirit beast entirely. However, in the event that the cultivator dies, the spirit beast's soul perishes with them—never to return."

Kazel's eyes narrowed. "So that means one beast is bound to one cultivator only? No exceptions?"

"Indeed," the old man confirmed. "And if two people attempt to integrate a beast at the same time… well, it becomes a battle of speed. The spirit will emerge in both soul spaces simultaneously, but the one who completes the integration first will claim it. The others will vanish instantly."

Kazel smirked. "So it's a race of submission, then."

"Hahaha! Feisty one, aren't you?" The old man let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused. "But let me warn you, boy—not all spirit beasts bow to strength alone. Some are battles of the mind, and those… those tend to be the rarest and most dangerous of all."

Kazel's grin deepened, eyes glinting with interest. ( A battle of mind and soul… now this is getting interesting. )

Kazel's gaze drifted downward, tracing the three spirit beast remnants laid before him. The dim lighting of the shop cast long shadows over the desk, making the items seem almost ominous in the flickering candlelight. His fingers hovered above them, feeling the air around each piece as if expecting to sense something more than just a lifeless fragment of a beast.

"So which one will you choose? These are all common rank spirit beast parts," said the old man. "Oh, and you can call me Pao, full name Pao Pao."

Pao Pao, chuckled softly, leaning forward with a knowing smile. "So, which one will you choose? These are all Common Rank spirit beast parts—nothing too fancy, but useful nonetheless." His frail finger pointed toward each item in turn as he explained.

"If you seek speed, the Musang Black Rabbit is your best bet. Agile, swift, and unpredictable—perfect for someone who values movement over raw strength."