Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss Chapter 142: The Situation

The weary body was immersed in hot water, feeling so comfortable that the very bones seemed to melt. Although the bathhouse had likely been used by countless others, Wang Chuan and his companions were soon draped in coarse hempen garments and led outside.

It seemed they were about to be sold.

This vast wilderness city had no walls; it was unclear whether they were inside or outside the city limits. The buildings Wang Chuan saw along the streets were low, mostly enclosed by earthen walls. The slightly more presentable ones utilized wood, though they were hardly impressive. Furthermore, the streets were aged, the bluestone worn into murky ruts by carriage wheels. The presence of horse-drawn carriages felt remarkably backward.

The climate seemed temperate—neither humid nor dry, neither cold nor hot. This was what one might call a perpetual spring. Yet, to Wang Chuan, it still felt like a lawless, barbaric frontier—more of a small border town and a transit point for trade.

Wang Chuan and the others were herded into something resembling a prisoner transport wagon. Along the way, he saw merchants moving in groups, driving horses and bringing loads of fine furs, gemstones, stallions, and hunting falcons, which they traded for tea, grain, utensils, and fine wine. Along the route, they also peddled gorgeous carpets and textiles, translucent glassware, exquisitely crafted swords, and many exotic treasures whose names he did not know: magnificent silks, ingenious porcelain, and paper as white as snow.

The entire city was more like a massive marketplace, spontaneously divided into various trading zones. The streets had no planning whatsoever and were occupied by merchants setting up stalls. Trampled by countless hooves and wheels, the dirt roads had become as muddy as a bog—this was the city’s true face.

Bang.

The carriage finally stopped, and Wang Chuan realized they had arrived. Just as he was about to collect his thoughts and look around, his companion from before suddenly called out to him.

"Wang Chuan."

"What is it?" Wang Chuan asked, startled.

He had also sensed that this person was extraordinary; if they managed to leave this place, their future would be boundless. Right now, they were like a dragon trapped in a shallow pool—it was unbearable.

"We will meet again," the other said.

"What is your name?" Wang Chuan asked, realizing he still did not know it.

Suddenly, he paused, realizing that perhaps they were to be separated today. They were already being shoved forward.

The roar of the crowd rushed into his ears once more. Wang Chuan carefully observed his surroundings. Open-air stalls were intermingled, with surging crowds and a deafening clamor. They were all set up on wooden platforms or massive stone blocks. Around them were many others in the same plight—some with dull, vacant expressions, others eager and restless.

Human life, Wang Chuan realized then, was sometimes as cheap as grass, as lowly as mere merchandise. He finally understood it to its core.

*Let it be,* he thought, his inner resolve only growing more solidified.

Several strong slaves had already been placed on a platform. They had curly hair, dark skin, and exceptionally robust muscles and bones. The seller was shouting loudly: "Strong, obedient, and easy to keep! They can work for just a bit of food! Only five hundred coins for one!"

Wang Chuan listened to the voices from all directions, gathering information. A single person could be sold for the price of a commoner's annual grain supply; in these chaotic times, life was truly cheap. He wondered if he was worth even that much.

A merchant stepped onto the platform, first inspecting their bodies for disabilities, then forcefully patting their shoulders to test their strength, especially making them lift stone locks.

"Absolutely top-tier goods! It was hard work bringing them from the north. They used to work in the mines, but then the mines collapsed..." the seller pushed hard.

"Let me try that!" The merchant took a whip and lashed it hard across the body of the slave in front of him. The slave did not resist, having become as tame as a lamb.

Satisfied, the two sides engaged in a heated round of haggling, their faces turning red. Wang Chuan watched from the side, his brow furrowing slightly as the one named Luo Xiang trembled. They would likely face the same; if they dared to resist the whip, the consequences would be unimaginable.

The companion was right.

Wang Chuan looked at his fellow captive. The slightly shorter, fair-faced young man offered a faint smile and remarked, "If one can bear this, what else is there that cannot be endured?"

It was as if he were speaking to Wang Chuan. Wang Chuan nodded. The saying had a double meaning: either that if one could endure the current situation, one could endure anything that followed; or that the current situation was already beyond endurance.

"There are three types suited for survival in the jungle: the strong, and those who adapt to the environment," Wang Chuan looked at his companion, speaking with admiration.

Survival of the fittest. Wang Chuan wanted to live, too. As long as one lived, there were infinite possibilities.

On their platform, Wang Chuan even spotted a demi-human! It had been a long time since he had seen such a race; even in the Nine Provinces, the barbarian soldiers were not like this. It wasn't merely crossbreeding; some barbarian tribes had degenerated, evolving toward the human form. Those terrifying eyes now looked like burned-out ashes. Even the barbarians had been tamed—a race without emotion, without anger, and lacking in intelligence. They were satisfied just to be fed daily.

At that moment, a passing fat merchant grew interested and asked, "Can he use an axe?"

"He can! This is a captive taken on the battlefield. He is most skilled with an axe, has boundless strength, and is obedient," the seller replied quickly.

"What if he hits me?" the fat merchant worried.

"How could he? He has been tamed by the 'Superior Ones.' You can go ask around; we have never had any trouble here. Just make sure to feed him every day. Don't let him go hungry—he eats a lot, but he has great strength and works hard. Grinding grain is a piece of cake for him," the seller blathered on.

Hearing this, the merchant seemed more reassured and bought him without further bargaining.

*The Superior Ones?* Wang Chuan vaguely sensed that the demi-human's spirit had been damaged. It wasn't just simple taming; it was a method of controlling the mind and soul—easier in some ways, but also more profound.

Before long, several more slaves were brought up—female slaves. They looked similar, but their skin and eyes were peculiar. They had high-bridged noses, large eyes, and full, moist red lips. They were likely foreigners.

At that moment, the sale had not yet begun. Sunlight descended, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The power of solar essence—Wang Chuan thought of a method of cultivation. However, it was like a shallow stream gathering; the progress was slow and difficult.

Suddenly, several men appeared beneath the stage, and space was cleared on the platform. A sound of instruments rang out. Wang Chuan listened carefully; it must have been chime bells. Amidst the crisp, melodic sound, a slender, beautiful figure spun onto the stage.

Wang Chuan was stunned—there was a dance performance. He had seen plenty in the imperial palace, but seeing it in this foreign land might bring a different sensation.

The woman’s delicate body twirled lightly, the pace gradually quickening. Her flowing, colorful skirt became a ribbon, a feast for the eyes. It captured everyone’s attention.

The hem swirled and then slowly stopped, drooping down like a blooming lily closing its petals. Her brown hair shone in the sunlight, and her face was veiled by a light red silk. Her features were completely hidden, but her eyes were lively, seemingly brimming with smiles—charming and lovely. She wore a tight dance top that clung to her upper body. Her long skirt was flowing and magnificent, with a row of vibrant tassels hanging from the waist. Further down were a pair of snowy, slender feet that landed on the ground as if weightless. The skin revealed between the gorgeous dance costume was alluring beyond measure.

Following the music, the young girl raised her arms and began to dance once more. Her waist was slender and supple, her fair skin like snow and fat, her movements light, graceful, and spirited—a truly pleasing sight.

The dancer's appeal was indeed extraordinary; the crowd of guests beneath the stage grew larger, and cheers erupted. Meanwhile, the group of slaves including them, who had been pushed out earlier, seemed to attract little interest.

As the dance finally drew to a close, a gorgeously dressed middle-aged man asked, "How much for this female slave?" They loved keeping such creatures; not only was her dancing skill superb, but she was also docile and seductive—an exquisite beauty that made one’s heart itch.

"Forgive me, sir, this is not something I can decide. You may ask our manager," the steward said. He then took the opportunity to push the other female slaves, as if they wouldn't be much different.

But they were vastly different.

Wang Chuan noticed the dancer’s gaze, looking in a certain direction. He subconsciously looked over as well.

Not far away, a stunning woman stood against the wind at the very top of a flagpole, as ethereal as an immortal. A warm breeze brushed past, her long, jet-black hair cascading behind her, revealing a slender, snowy neck. A jade hairpin was slanted in her hair, decorated with two patterns as thin as cicada wings—refined and elegant. Beneath long, thin eyelashes, her pitch-black eyes seemed to reflect the desolate, water-like night—utterly clear and beautiful.

Her expression was a coldness Wang Chuan had never seen before, as if she were oblivious to the world. She wore a moon-white robe with a white collar embroidered with elegant floral patterns, a sash tied around her waist that accentuated her figure. She looked incredibly pure and elegant. Watching from afar, she was ethereal and transcendent, a sight only to be viewed from a distance amidst a crowd of vulgar commoners. Her face was truly peerless, a beauty that could topple kingdoms.

The dancer stared fixedly at the woman, filled with longing and expectation. Wang Chuan frowned again, recalling the analogy they had made earlier. An acquaintance? Appearing just at this moment? Was the dancer hoping this fairy-like figure would take her away?

Although the woman noticed the dancer's gaze, she merely glanced at her and remained indifferent, as if it had nothing to do with her. She then looked toward Wang Chuan’s side, showed no further reaction, and quietly watched the front.

The dancer seemed deeply disappointed.

She was undoubtedly the best and most expensive item here. But everyone who came here should be here to buy, so what was that fairy-like woman planning to do? Wang Chuan could not help but be curious: what kind of slave would she want to buy?

However, he had no time to ponder. The trading above continued; he feared it wouldn't be long before he, too, was pushed onto the sales block.

First came the women from before, capable of working and bearing children—the younger and more beautiful, the more valuable they were. Now, they were covered only by a tattered piece of burlap, as if being picked over. The cloth was draped from the right shoulder to the left waist, revealing most of their skin and bodies as they stood in a row on the platform. Their expressions were vacant or filled with uncontrollable fear and timidity—a terror of an unknown future.

These female slaves were tall and well-proportioned, their eyes pitiful, noses straight, skin fair, and features symmetrical; their arched eyebrows were dark and thick, and their looks were decent. Yet, some were already getting on in years. Though they must have been beauties in their youth, they were now fading, with fine wrinkles appearing at the corners of their eyes, their hair dry and lusterless, their skin sagging—like a blooming flower beginning to wither.

Wang Chuan murmured something to himself, closed his eyes, and began to regulate his breathing.