Chapter 28: The Soulmaster's Market

On the broad avenue, a knight clad in black armor rode a warhorse as dark as ink, cutting past one carriage after another like a streak of black lightning.

Moments later, the steed entered a sparse forest and halted before a small pavilion. This seemed to have been built by some noble purely for leisure, but had long since been abandoned. It looked somewhat desolate, with the red lacquer peeling from its four pillars to reveal the raw wood beneath.

The black-armored knight dismounted, carelessly let go of the reins, and allowed his horse to wander. He stepped into the pavilion, where a woman shrouded in green gauze sat with her back to him, reading a book.

If one looked closely, she appeared no more than in her early twenties, her skin smooth as porcelain, her brows arched like willow leaves, her eyes deep and dark. She wore a green dress parted from the thigh, revealing shapely legs; her private places were faintly discernible.

Yet the knight kept his gaze lowered, not daring to steal even a glance. He reported respectfully, “My Lady, a new Soulbinder has appeared and slain one of our beasts.”

“Pay it no mind. Those failures are formidable for you warriors, but to a Soulbinder—even one who has only just formed their primary totem—they are nothing at all.”

The woman sat with her legs apart, her skirt swirling, an inexplicable fragrance filling the air.

This made the knight even more deferential. He raised his eyes just enough to fix them on her delicate chin, then, with a flash of resentment on his face, asked, “My Lady, is the path of the warrior truly a dead end?”

“It is,” she replied, shaking her head, a trace of helplessness in her eyes. “Vasinger, do not be so anxious. In return for your years of loyal service, I promise that one day, I will make you a Soulbinder.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” The knight bowed his head, sighing softly as he buried his discontent.

“Even the mightiest general among warriors could never harm a Soulbinder. If you encounter one, you must avoid them at all costs.” The woman shook her head, changing the subject, her expression turning icy. “The organization’s plans cannot be altered. Ignore that Soulbinder for now—focus on sowing chaos. Stormport, and even the whole of Farn County, must descend into disorder. The One True God will descend upon this world and sweep all before Him…”

“Yes, my Lady!” A sudden fervor blazed in the knight’s eyes, as intense as that seen in the zealots of a fanatic cult.

———

The sudden assault on Charles’s caravan had left all five knights wounded, with one killed outright. Another had been struck to the ground by a giant wolf’s paw, his internal organs crushed, bleeding profusely—unlikely to survive much longer.

Now, less than half an hour from Stormport, they performed rough first aid and hurried to the city, rushing the wounded to the infirmary. There, Charles found an excuse to slip away from the others and departed alone.

His true purpose was to visit the secret Soulbinder market in Stormport, and he was not going alone—he had a companion.

Stormport’s commercial district was the busiest part of the city, which was divided into residential, commercial, dockside, and administrative-military quarters. Here, countless people came and went each day, trading and buying goods of every sort.

At a street vendor’s stall, Charles suddenly heard a familiar voice. Though soft and weak, it seemed to ring directly in his ear.

“So slow! Can’t you walk any faster?”

He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a petite girl standing with her back to him before a stall selling something like cotton candy, her eyes filled with longing as she looked at the vendor.

“What are you standing there for? Hurry up and pay!”

Charles smiled helplessly, hurried over, and handed two copper coins to the vendor, then looked at the beaming girl and asked, “Were you just waiting for me to pay?”

“Stop talking nonsense—let’s go!” Rice Cake turned her head away, bouncing ahead to lead the way.

He asked no further, following her as she weaved through the crowd. Soon, they arrived at the door of a tavern with a crooked sign overhead: Storm Tavern.

Rice Cake ignored the approaching staff and strode straight inside. The staff did not bar her way, but merely greeted them with polite smiles.

After passing through a corridor, the scene changed abruptly: the boozy atmosphere of the tavern vanished, and they found themselves in a strange little square.

Several burly men in black armor stood guard at the entrance. As they entered, one of them stretched out a hand toward Charles. “Five gold coins!”

Charles hesitated, but under the man’s cold gaze, he upended his purse and handed over the coins, inwardly marveling at the price. Five gold coins just for entry—equivalent to two or three thousand yuan in his previous life—truly befitting a den of Soulbinders.

“Come on, this gear shop is quite fair,” Rice Cake continued to lead the way. She seemed unimpressed by the peculiar surroundings, her chin raised in pride. “But most of what’s sold here is basic equipment—useless to me.”

Charles looked around with feigned indifference, though curiosity stirred within him.

This place was much like the Soulbinder marketplaces in the games: totem workshops, beast stalls, gem shops—all were present.

The difference was the lack of people. At a glance, the square was nearly deserted.

They entered a shop selling basic lab equipment—beakers, microscopes, and various apparatuses, no less advanced than a modern laboratory. Charles, following his carefully calculated budget, selected the most essential instruments. These were indispensable for serious research; doing everything by hand would be too crude and risk grave mistakes.

Unfortunately, the materials were exorbitant. Even after bringing all he owned, he could not afford a full set and had to settle for the most vital pieces. Even a wealthy family would find their reserves strained—a single microscope cost nearly two hundred gold coins, enough to make anyone’s heart tremble.

“So poor…” Rice Cake muttered, glancing at him, and he could not help but smile wryly.

After he finished choosing, the shopkeeper packed his purchases into a wooden chest and gave him a black cloth bag to carry them in.

Next, Charles half-dragged Rice Cake along to the beast stalls, hoping to pick out a few creatures to use as support totems.

This area resembled a regular livestock market, but all the cages held fierce beasts—gray wolves, forest bears, swamp crocodiles, and more. There were also various rodents, birds, and lizards, enough to dazzle the eye.

The sellers boasted endlessly of their animals’ virtues and the painstaking breeding that went into producing them, all in hopes of luring buyers.

But when Charles asked the prices, he could only turn away in embarrassment—his funds could barely buy him two mice.

“So poor…” the girl beside him laughed, her eyes crinkling with mirth.

He shook his head, realizing it would be a waste of money to buy anything here. He would be better off hunting in the forest for some sturdy beasts to serve as his totems.

With the capabilities of his tuner, he refused to believe he couldn’t match those so-called bred creatures.