Volume Twelve: The Invitation to Hell Chapter Fifty-One: The Midnight Ghost Market

Yao Guang stared fixedly, unable to comprehend how such a clear portal had suddenly appeared. The scene beyond the gateway was shrouded in mist, rendering it entirely obscure.

Thus, Yao Guang could only liken it to a mirage—though this mirage might not be an ordinary mirage at all.

Everyone was stunned, even Yao Guang found himself at a loss for words.

“Phoenix,” Bai Xin’s voice echoed persistently within Yao Guang’s consciousness, finally bringing him back to himself.

Since they were in a spiritual state, physical contact was impossible. Bai Xin could only call out repeatedly until Yao Guang responded, “Sorry, Brother Bai.”

“Heh, no worries. You must find this overwhelming as well. It was my first time, too,” Bai Xin remarked, sensing that Yao Guang was masking his embarrassment.

Yao Guang gave a sheepish smile, but Bai Xin urged, “The portal has appeared. Let’s hurry inside. This formation’s portal is unstable; if we don’t enter quickly, this trip will be for nothing.”

Only then did Yao Guang notice the floating silhouettes moving orderly through the portal. Without further delay, driven by immense curiosity, he stepped into the gateway alongside Bai Xin.

Yao Guang struggled to articulate the sensation of crossing the so-called portal. As he approached, it felt less like a simple hole and more like a grand, ancient temple gate, imposing and vast. A plaque hung above, inscribed with four characters in a script unfamiliar to most.

Familiar with many archaic scripts, Yao Guang immediately recognized the words: “Resting Valley.”

This puzzled him; the gate looked ancient, but “Resting Valley”? Was it a sanctuary?

Before he could dwell on it, Bai Xin urged him forward, and together they stepped through. Crossing the threshold felt like plunging into an illusion—vision and consciousness blurred momentarily.

Yet clarity returned in an instant, replaced by a powerful surge of life energy that overwhelmed Yao Guang.

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Yao Guang was utterly bewildered, unsure of his location. Before him stretched a serene, ancient town with blue bricks and red tiles, quaint and peaceful.

Beneath his feet lay a clean bluestone street.

Was this the misty Jiangnan of old?

But no, this was not Jiangnan, nor any historical era Yao Guang recognized. It resembled a grand gathering of film sets from various dramas: costumes from ancient times, Tang dynasty robes, Republican-era attire, even modern clothes—all mingling harmoniously.

The people strolled casually along the street, their expressions peaceful, completely ignoring Yao Guang’s presence as an outsider.

Yao Guang sensed that every soul wandering these streets possessed formidable spiritual power.

This reminded him of Bai Xin’s earlier words—that these were the souls of Taoist predecessors. Thus, their strong spiritual force made perfect sense.

Standing on the bluestone path, Yao Guang felt lost, unsure which way to go. There were no shops, only buildings resembling residences lining the street. The passersby paid him no mind.

“Phoenix, this is the Dark Night Ghost Market—the true ghost market. Others are merely simple human-ghost exchanges, not the real thing. Most people never realize the true ghost market does not exist in this world. Only vague records remain in ancient texts, often dismissed as mirages,” Bai Xin said, appearing quietly beside Yao Guang. It seemed he had entered slightly after Yao Guang.

Yao Guang had long understood that humans tend to trust only what they see, rarely considering the limitations of their eyes. The human eye sees well up close but poorly at a distance, perceives light but not darkness. Anything beyond one’s understanding is either dismissed as illusion or forcibly explained by science, often lacking solid evidence. Hence, the Dark Night Ghost Market was misinterpreted as a mirage.

But Yao Guang knew better: this market was not a mirage, but a parallel, overlapping space.

“Brother Bai, what do we do next? Honestly, this is my first time here,” Yao Guang asked.

Bai Xin shook his head. “I don’t know the specifics. All I know is that entering the Dark Night Ghost Market requires fate. If someone here speaks to you, it means your destiny has arrived. You can then start trading or decide whether to trade.”

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“Decide whether to trade?” Yao Guang was puzzled. “According to you, such trades are rare. Why would one choose not to trade?”

Bai Xin smiled faintly. “Exactly. In the Dark Night Ghost Market, if your fate has arrived, any benefit you receive may come without cost. But if your fate has not arrived, yet you still encounter someone who speaks to you, the favor they offer may demand a heavy price.”

“I see,” Yao Guang began to grasp Bai Xin’s meaning.

“But the Dark Night Ghost Market is more than just these trades. It’s vast, with a grand market where formal transactions occur. Still, don’t expect to buy much here,” Bai Xin added.

Yao Guang could scarcely imagine the magnitude of such a price—why else would he be unable to purchase anything?

Momentarily lost in thought, he was roused by Bai Xin: “Come on, this place is truly vast.”

Together, they strolled along the bluestone street. Only the two of them were visible; none of the others who entered the ghost market accompanied them.

“It’s because I promised my master to watch over you that I entered with you almost simultaneously. That’s why we arrived here together. But those who attend the Dark Night Ghost Market usually keep their secrets and never choose to enter with others,” Bai Xin explained.

“How large is it? How big?” Yao Guang asked, taking in the picturesque ancient Jiangnan townscape. Amidst red walls and green tiles, peach and apricot blossoms appeared here and there. Turning a corner revealed clear water flowing gently under a thin mist.

All of it was breathtakingly beautiful, yet somehow unreal. And yet, it truly existed.

Curious, Yao Guang asked, “Just how large is this place?”