"Come, step closer and take a look."
"This is Blue Sea Cloud tea brick, top quality."
"A cup of this will lift your spirits instantly, and if you don't drink tea yourself, it works just as well as feed for nurturing tea-type Gu."
"Worth far more than the asking price—five primeval stones for one piece."
The merchant caravan had entered the fringes of Qing Mao Mountain at dawn, and by afternoon they were already settled inside Gu Yue Village.
By the time dusk began to settle, the outskirts had transformed into a sprawling temporary market.
Tents in bright reds, blues, yellows, and greens lined the area, packed so tightly that even the narrowest patches of ground between them had been claimed by small makeshift stalls.
Even with night approaching, the place remained washed in warm, persistent light.
Crowds drifted in from the village—ordinary people, Gu Masters, children weaving between adults with excited shouts, and grown-ups wearing expressions that resembled the anticipation of a holiday.
There was a hum to the air, a subtle pressure that came from too many voices, too many movements, too much life compressed into one place.
"Brute Force Longhorn Beetle Gu! Once you use it, you gain the strength of a cow. If you walk past now, you'll only regret it later!"
"Intimate Grass! Fresh, vibrant stock, look at the color yourselves! Two stones a catty—don't miss your chance!"
Fang Yuan paused at the sound, though the movement was almost imperceptible, then shifted toward the source.
He had been moving through the market since noon, quietly observing as each vendor unpacked their goods, buying what mattered and discarding what didn't.
He stopped beside a two-wheeled cart pulled by a tall ostrich, its feathers unsettled by the constant flow of people.
The cart was piled high with pale green herbs, each blade roughly a meter long, thin and straight like drawn strips of paper.
At the tips, tiny red heart-shaped buds rested, taut and unopened, giving the whole pile a strangely vivid look amid the dim lantern glow.
Intimate Grass wasn't valuable on its own; its worth came from how well it paired with other feed.
Certain Gu responded better when their meals were balanced, and this herb was designed for exactly that purpose.
Take Moonlight Gu, for instance.
Normally, Fang Yuan had to feed it two moon orchid petals each time.
But if he mixed in a single blade of Intimate Grass, the Gu could reach the same level of satiation with just one petal instead of two.
The numbers were simple enough.
Intimate Grass cost two primeval stones per catty, while moon orchid petals were ten pieces for one stone.
It didn't take genius-level arithmetic to realize that using the grass as filler cut his expenses sharply.
Efficiency was its own kind of profit.
He set forty primeval stones down on the stall's wooden board and said, "Twenty catties."
The merchant's face lit up immediately—with the crowd still warming up, a bulk buyer this early was a blessing.
He hurried to pack the grass, handing the bundles over with almost overeager enthusiasm.
Fang Yuan slipped everything into his Stone Bag Gu, then moved on without lingering.
The Brute Force Longhorn Beetle Gu had just been brought out for sale, and he intended to secure one.
Most of the other goods he'd inspected so far failed to meet his standards, so he continued toward the center of the temporary marketplace.
The deeper he walked, the louder the flow of people became.
Street vendors thinned out, giving way to larger, more established tents.
Size, color, and layout varied—red, blue, green, yellow—some tall and narrow, some wide and barrel-shaped.
A few had pillars marking their entrances, others relied on hanging red lanterns.
Light spilled out unevenly: some tents glowed bright and inviting, others flickered with dim shadows.
Fang Yuan's eyes moved calmly from detail to detail as he walked, processing everything without betraying a hint of emotion.
Eventually he stopped in front of a grey tent, its muted color standing out against the noise of the crowd.
"It should be here," Fang Yuan concluded as he studied the tent.
Two pillars framed the entrance, each carved with a vertical line of text—polished, deliberate, pretending at grandeur.
On the left: "A small show of courage brings fortune through the seasons."
On the right: "A great display of skill draws prosperity from all directions."
Between them, a final line hung like a verdict: "Luck shifts with time."
It fit the place of a gambling den perfectly.
Fang Yuan stepped inside.
The interior was lined with three long rows of counters, each one displaying pieces of amber and fossilized stone.
Some were the size of a palm, others as large as a human face.
A few were massive—taller than a man—too heavy for the tables and left standing directly on the ground.
Unlike the noise of the tents outside, the atmosphere here felt compressed and muted as several Gu Masters stood before the counters.
A few examined the stones with slow, deliberate focus.
Others turned pieces over in their hands, feeling weight, texture, density—searching for clues hidden beneath hardened shells.
Some whispered to companions; others negotiated with the clerks.
Yet everyone kept their voices low, careful not to break the tension that held the room together.
This is a rock gambling den.
In the Gu world, everything revolved around Gu—creatures of countless forms, functions, and peculiarities.
Each type had its own needs, its own diet.
Without proper food, even the strongest Gu could only hold on for so long before collapsing and dying out.
Yet nature, in its detached way, offered a thin margin of mercy.
When a Gu couldn't find sustenance, there was still a small chance it could survive by slipping into hibernation, sealing itself away to wait out the threat of starvation.
But that chance was slim.
Most Gu simply withered.
Only a rare few, under the right pressures and the right conditions, managed to seal themselves within a stone-like shell or cocoon.
Occasionally, a Gu Master would stumble onto one of these sealed remains—an unremarkable rock hiding a dormant Gu inside.
If they managed to awaken it, it could completely change their trajectory.
Some built their entire futures on those lucky finds.
Stories of such miracles circulated constantly, half rumor, half truth, but always just plausible enough to keep hope alive.
The rock gambling dens were built on that hope.
Every stone on display looked the same on the outside—ordinary, indistinguishable.
You'd only learn what was truly inside after breaking it open.
It was a game of chance dressed up as opportunity, and for many people, that promise was irresistible.
Fang Yuan lingered at the entrance for a moment, letting his eyes adjust as he swept the room with a quiet, measured glance.
After taking in the layout, he moved toward the counters lining the left side.
Assistants were stationed at regular intervals behind the display—men and women, each wearing a green belt at the waist, a clear sign they were Rank One Gu Masters.
Most were in the early stage, a few slightly stronger, but none truly noteworthy.
When Fang Yuan stopped in front of a counter, the nearest attendant—a female Gu Master—approached with a practiced smile.
Her tone was soft, polished from experience.
"Young master, is this your first time here?"