Chapter 2

In the blink of an eye, the black bear had already run more than ten meters away. Despite its massive size, its movements were surprisingly agile.

As it ran, the black bear cautiously glanced back. Good—it could no longer see the shadow of that plague spirit.

“Coalball, are you running so fast because you want to play a racing game with me?”

Just as he relaxed, the black bear suddenly turned its head sharply to the side. There, the boy was carrying a carrying pole, his legs moving so fast they blurred, smiling broadly as he ran alongside it.

The black bear’s eyes nearly popped out, its mouth slightly open, stunned and frightened.

Seeing its expression, Lingze Xia immediately recalled what Uncle Tiě Dàn had said: “The golden retriever I used to have would pretend to be pitiful when it did something wrong; as soon as it went out to play or got a snack, its lips would curl up instantly, as if it had become a little spirit.”

Because the black bear’s mouth was slightly open in shock, it gave the illusion that the corners of its lips were curling upward—a delightful misunderstanding, to say the least.

Lingze Xia was relieved, thinking that Coalball was indeed happy and wanted to play a racing game with him.

“Here’s the deal: I’ll count down ten seconds, and we’ll see who runs the fastest. If you win, I’ll treat you to wild game that I catch; if I win, you come back to the village with me.”

Coalball was furry, strong, smart, and understanding—definitely worth raising.

Upon hearing this, the black bear’s face turned terrified. To it, losing the race meant being enslaved by the plague spirit—absolutely not! Fueled with adrenaline, the black bear ran even harder, using all its strength.

“10, 9, 8, 7...”

Lingze Xia’s countdown sounded like a death sentence to the black bear’s ears. It buried its head and sprinted desperately. Ten seconds later, the black bear collapsed on the ground in despair, while Lingze Xia won the race with a half-body lead.

“You lost.”

The black bear emitted a sorrowful wail, covering its eyes with broad paws and crying.

A hundred meters away.

A man wearing glasses heard the earth-shattering howl. Frowning, he looked toward the source of the sound and quickened his pace down the right path.

It was a fork in the road, with one path to the left and one to the right. A wooden sign stood by the fork, pointing right toward the market.

***

The black bear cried very sadly, its body shaking as if it might faint at any moment.

Lingze Xia thought the bear was crying tears of joy. He patted its head happily and said, “I still have to go to the market. Wait here for me. When I’m done, I’ll take you back to the village.”

Hearing this, the black bear twitched its ears, lifted its head from its arm, and showed an uncontrollable joyful expression, nodding vigorously.

Lingze Xia thought for a moment, then took out a small, pale blue candy wrapped in tissue from his pocket and placed it in the bear’s paw.

“You lost, so no wild game for you—although I heard bears love sweets and honey, but I only have candy on me now. Here, have some candy first. Next time, I’ll take you up the mountain to find honey.”

The black bear nodded repeatedly, making one wonder if it truly understood the boy's words.

Lingze Xia slung the carrying pole over his shoulder and left.

The black bear didn’t rush off immediately; it waited a long time at the same spot, afraid the plague spirit would launch a surprise attack. After a while, it finally dashed away.

After climbing over three mountain ridges, the black bear stopped, panting heavily and sprawled on the ground, its weight shaking the earth.

It rolled over, scratched its behind, and suddenly felt something fall from between its fingers. Opening its eyes, it saw the candy given by the plague spirit.

Hmph, did they think a single candy could bribe it? It was the master of Black Ghost Mountain.

It casually tossed the candy aside, yawned, closed its eyes, and quickly fell asleep.

***

Lingze Xia carried his pole and entered the market.

Though it was still early, quite a crowd had gathered, many of whom Lingze Xia recognized.

Sister She, with her hair braided into snake-like strands resembling a head of green pepper sticks.

Brother Yang, a sheep-headed man dressed impeccably, always in a sharp suit or exquisite formal wear. Rumor had it he worked at a wealthy person’s estate, where the employer had high standards, hence his meticulous dress.

There were also the corpulent Huang Ming, the gaunt Grandfather Gu who looked as if only a thin layer of skin covered his bones, Ma He with no facial skin and raw red muscle exposed, among others.

Upon seeing Lingze Xia, the quiet market instantly erupted with excitement. Sister She was the first to rush up.

“Xia, same as always! I want ten wild chickens!”

“Me too, half a slab of wild boar meat!”

“Paper figures.”

“My ordered dolls.”

“...”

“Everyone, hold on, there’s enough for all of you. One at a time,” Lingze Xia called out.

Meanwhile,

A few men and women, looking much more normal, cautiously hid behind a building.

The young man in short sleeves looked pale. Seeing Lingze Xia surrounded by so many spirits yet unharmed, and even witnessing them line up as if queuing, his eyes gleamed with hope as he said, “That person looks so powerful. With him, we…”

The man with glasses raised his frame coldly, cutting him off: “Stop thinking. Humans aren’t that strong.” He paused, the lenses reflecting cold light as he analyzed the situation. “This is trouble. Any stone thrown casually in this spirit domain could hit a B-level spirit. Also, see that snake woman? She’s S-level, and the spirits around her are no lower than A-level.”

“The other spirits not surrounding us also covet that big spirit’s prize. They haven’t acted because stronger spirits haven’t moved yet. Spirits have no morality—if they want something, they just take it. The only reason they don’t act is: they can’t win.”

“And even united, they can’t win. That must be a powerful big spirit, maybe even 3S-level.”

The short-sleeved youth’s lips trembled as he struggled to say, “But he really looks human, with no signs of mutation.”

“That’s the scariest part. We all know the stronger the spirit, the more human-like it appears.”

The youth fell silent, the light in his eyes extinguished.

The man with glasses was silent for a moment, then awkwardly reassured, “Actually, you’re quite lucky—you were transported directly into the market. Outside the market is a D-level black bear spirit; without some strength, you’d have been eaten already.”

The short-sleeved youth forced a smile, then joked coldly, “Yeah, dying at the hands of an S-level is more dignified than by a D-level.”

Others: “...”

According to the national spirit classification, there are eight levels from E to SSS. Usually, people encounter C to E levels. Mortality rates climb steeply: B-level spirits have a 60% death rate, A-level 90%. S-level is the highest, with nearly 100% mortality. SS and SSS are reserved by the state as upper limits, just in case.

Fortunately, spirits only operate within spirit domains—each domain is rated based on the levels, abilities, and temperaments of the spirits inhabiting it.

These few unfortunate ones dragged into the market were the unluckiest of the unlucky. Spirit domains are usually fixed and have never been known to move. As long as one keeps away, they generally won’t get pulled in.

So after exchanging information, they felt a chill—they horrifiedly discovered that some were in the Market of Illusions, others in the Market of Mist, the Market of Wild Geese, the Market of Wind... scattered all over the country, all pulled in while everything seemed normal before.

They only wished for the word “random.” This situation was a terrible omen.

If they managed to survive and report back to the state, it would likely cause another wave of unrest.

But there was no choice—the reality had to be faced.

—Of course, this all hinged on someone among them actually surviving.

“Brother,” the short-sleeved young man, a first-timer in the spirit domain, said with a trembling voice half crying, half laughing, “How many levels do you think this spirit domain has?”

B-level spirits crowded the place, several A-levels, and even the rumored 3S—though that was uncertain speculation...

Wailing, what did he get himself into? Was this still his own country? Could there really be a spirit realm?