He cracked Li Simin’s mangled fist back into place, her joints emitting a series of sharp, dry pops. He poked her frozen cheek; she remained expressionless.

  "Simin, oh Simin."

  Chen Gensheng shook his head, stuffing the freshly-refined, ice-cold Corpse-Puppet back into the Corpse-Nurturing Coffin. He slammed the lid shut. Hoisting the massive crate onto his back, he continued his trek toward the south.

  It took more time. When he finally emerged from the emerald gloom of the Endless Swamps and stepped onto solid earth, he was hollow with hunger. Old Ghost’s map ended here. Before him lay a colossal rift plunging deep into the earth—a jagged scar across the landscape.

  At the entrance stood two grotesque stone-carved demon heads, their maws gaping wide. Cultivators flowed in and out of those dark throats. There were lone rogues, organized gangs that looked like trouble, and plenty of Pallbearers like himself, carrying various types of coffins.

  This was the Abode of Ten Thousand Pills, the largest underground black market in southern Qingzhou.

  Gensheng adjusted the weight on his back and followed the crowd into the demon’s mouth. A stench hit him—a mixture of burnt alchemical pills, blood, and the rot of exotic materials. Inside was a world of its own: a broad subterranean street lined with stalls run by rogue cultivators. The air was a cacophony of shouting, haggling, and the metallic scrape of weapons.

  "Freshly made Wraith Flags! Don't miss out! Three fresh wraiths to make your enemies wail for their mothers!" "Prime Iron Corpse, just dug from a century-old tomb! Thick skin, heavy hitter! Selling cheap!"

  Gensheng wandered the street like a detached tourist. He took a lap, and his heart sank. There were plenty of pills—Qi-Recuperation Pills, Detoxification Pills, even Eruptive Spirit Pills for temporary boosts—but they were all trifles for the Qi Condensation stage.

  A Foundation Establishment Pill? Not even a shadow of one.

  He walked up to the largest pill stall, run by a man so fat he practically leaked oil, fanning himself in a rocking chair.

  "Boss, I’m looking for something," Gensheng said. "Is there a lead on Foundation Establishment Pills?"

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Pfft! The fat man spat out a mouthful of tea. He squinted at Gensheng, then at the massive black coffin on his back. "Kid, you new? This place has been open for a hundred years, and I've never seen anyone brave enough to sell those in the open. That's the lifeblood of the Great Sects! Strategic resources! Sell one and they’ll execute your whole clan. And a recipe? Forget it."

  The fat man waved him off. "Give up. Just focus on your corpses. Maybe one day you'll step in luck and dig up an ancient cave-abode with a pill inside."

  Gensheng left without a word. This place was a den of dragons and snakes; everyone here was a shark. They knew who had the goods, who was a fat sheep for the slaughter, and who was too dangerous to touch. Gensheng, with his high-quality coffin and steady aura, looked like a "dangerous but potentially profitable" target.

  Sure enough, a man thin as a Bamboo Pole in an ill-fitting grey robe intercepted him. He wore a fake smile that reeked of calculation.

  "Brother, looking at that coffin... you're a Corpse Cultivator?" Bamboo Pole’s voice was high and reedy.

  "Something you want?"

  "Such a fine coffin must hold a prime puppet. Only... what's the use of a pretty skin if it can't fight? It's just a fancy target." Bamboo Pole tapped a finger on the coffin lid.

  Gensheng’s gaze finally shifted to the man. "You have a solution?"

  "Naturally!" Bamboo Pole leaned in. "Most corpse-refining is crude—just hardening the flesh. But imagine if your puppet could not only shrug off blades but also channel Qi and cast spells alongside you? You glare, she throws a fireball. You wave, she drops an ice spike. Two-on-one. Isn't that better?"

  Gensheng’s interest was piqued. If Li Simin could cast spells... "Get to the point," he interrupted.

  "Haha, a man of action!" Bamboo Pole produced a black jade slip. "The Triple Yin Soul-Refining Manual and the Map of a Hundred Ethereal Apertures."

  "The manual grants a deeper soul-link, making her move like an extension of your own limbs. The map unlocks a hundred and eight 'Corpse Apertures,' tripling her physical strength and, most importantly, allowing her to circulate spiritual energy and cast spells like a living being!"

  Gensheng stared at the slip. "How much?"

  Bamboo Pole held up two fingers. "Two thousand low-grade spirit stones. No bargaining."

  It was a staggering sum for a rogue. Gensheng had saved five thousand over two years; this wouldn't ruin him, but it was a massive investment.

  "Forget it, you look like a pauper anyway," Bamboo Pole mocked, turning to leave.

  "Wait," Gensheng called out. "I'll take it."

  He counted out two thousand stones from his storage ring. Bamboo Pole’s fake smile became significantly more genuine as he caught the bag. "Splendid! May you sweep across Qingzhou with your puppet!" With that, he vanished into the crowd like a loach.

  Gensheng pressed his consciousness into the slip. A deluge of information flooded his mind—profound incantations, complex meridian maps, and brilliant annotations on necromancy.

  It was real. And it was more sophisticated than the man had promised. Gensheng suppressed his excitement and patted the coffin.

  "Simin," he whispered. "Your good days are coming."