Feilong had completely reverted to his original self: bald head, knotted muscles, a vicious look on his face, eyebrows slanting upward—one look and you’d know he wasn’t a good guy. Which matched his identity as the "Black Market Boss of Fengri City."

This wasn’t Feilong bragging—he really was. Anyone who’d worked in the black market must have heard of Brother Feilong from Fengri City, and knew he was a big boss with a lot of presence in the black market.

In the Jingjiu Dynasty, there were dozens of hub cities like Fengri City, and the number of people who could unify the black market within a hub city’s jurisdiction could be counted on one hand—without exception, all ruthless and cunning men, who dared mess with them lightly?

Right after Jingxi Operations, the black market entered a deep freeze. Out of ten people in the business, five had been conveniently purged, leaving behind only the trash who couldn’t amount to anything. With Feilong coming in, they basically couldn’t resist and could only get absorbed into his fold.

Plus, Feilong had the Black Banner Battalion backing him. In terms of both efficiency and manpower, no small fries could stand up to him. With a moat of silver coins at his disposal, in these withering times, very few dared to go against him. So he managed to take down two hub cities in a row, smooth as butter.

Now, Feilong wasn’t just the black market boss of Fengri City’s territory. He was the boss of the black markets in two neighboring hub cities as well. There were only four such hub cities in all of Jingxi.

Now, three-quarters of the black market in Jingxi were tagged with Feilong’s mark.

No exaggeration to say Feilong was high-spirited these days.

But the more successful he was outside, the more careful he’d get when seeing Shen Hao. He was closely watched inside and out by Xuanqing Guard operatives. Sure, people called him Brother Feilong, but if Shen Hao wanted him dead, Zhang Lie, Wang Jian, and the like would have his head off faster than you could blink.

For the past two years, Feilong had gotten used to silver coins flowing into his pockets like water, living a life attended by flunkies everywhere he went. His wife and kids at home were much better off than when they used to be scared for their lives all the time. He was reluctant to die, reluctant to give up the good life, so he got even more cautious, worrying Shen Hao might stop using him.

When he heard Shen Hao had been promoted to Deputy Thousand Households, Feilong’d shouted with excitement, finishing a whole jug of wine in one go. When the bastard surnamed Shen moved up, it meant this dog got to rise with him too! He’d even prepared a gold plaque inscribed with "Wishing Martial Prosperity"—over two hundred jin—ready to give as a congratulatory gift. But Zhang Lie stopped him, saying it was too ostentatious and would have the opposite effect. In the end, he dropped the idea.

What a good opportunity! Feilong was desperate to attend Shen Hao’s promotion banquet; word was, only Shen Hao’s core loyalists got to go. That really meant something, especially in terms of being accepted as part of the inner circle.

But unfortunately, Feilong knew he had to stay in the shadows. The further things went, the less anyone could be allowed to see the connection between him and Shen Hao. So he could only listen jealously as Wang Jian bragged about it afterward.

But the opportunity soon came.

A new underling who’d just joined Feilong’s crew brought him some news. Feilong instantly sensed something was off, so he wanted to meet Shen Hao and worried that if he didn’t show his face for too long, he might get sidelined.

He didn’t go to a restaurant. In a small courtyard in Five Rams City, Feilong and Zhang Lie set out some good food and drink, and waited half an hour before they heard a knock on the door.

Zhang Lie answered the door himself, and saw Shen Hao and Wang Jian.

"My lord, you’re here."

"Yeah." Shen Hao grinned, walked in, handed the black gauze conical hat from his head to Wang Jian behind him. He clapped Zhang Lie on the arm, "You all healed up?"

"No problem at all. Thank you, my lord, for your concern."

Zhang Lie spoke even less now, with more Evil Qi clinging to him. Clearly, he’d gotten blood on his hands again lately.

Looking next at Feilong, hunched over like a bear, Shen Hao’s smile grew even wider. "Feilong, you’ve done well these days."

This guy, once a bottom-feeder, now a big boss of three city black markets—he was grinning so hard he almost stuck his tongue out. Couldn’t act more honest if he tried.

In the main room, Shen Hao sat at the head, a seat left open on either side—Wang Jian on the left, Zhang Lie on the right, Feilong sitting at the lowest seat.

All familiar faces, no need for formalities, and right around dinnertime when everyone was hungry. Shen Hao picked up his chopsticks to begin eating, and the rest started laughing, drinking, chatting away.

After three rounds of drinks, Shen Hao put down his chopsticks and looked at Feilong.

Feilong knew Shen Hao was waiting for him to speak, so he straightened up and said in a low voice, "My lord, here’s the situation. Recently, I brought in some new men, mainly to manage intelligence channels in the new territory, and also to buy Wang Xiaoqi some time filling up Little Ghost and Ghost Gate’s ranks.

But two days ago, one of the new recruits came to me saying someone was slinking around looking for sellers, wanting to keep moving goods. Not big shipments—mainly after general spirit stones.

And the guy’s surname is Ma."

Surname Ma?

Hearing that made Shen Hao frown involuntarily.

Feilong continued, "That’s when I got suspicious. I mean, not to mention Jingxi, just anywhere in the Dynasty, where isn’t under strictest crackdown? Even selling a few Hundred Beauty Discs risks losing your head these days, let alone general spirit stones. Even if someone had them, they wouldn’t dare try to sell.

The market’s like this, who would be dumb enough to go hunting down sellers? And on top of all that, surname Ma?

So I sent someone to check it out, and it really was Ma San!"

Shen Hao cut in, his voice low: "You’re sure it wasn’t a mistake?"

"Absolutely sure, it was Ma San. It’s just the guy looked terrible, like a tuberculosis case."

Shen Hao nodded. Looked terrible, like tuberculosis? That fit Ma San’s situation. Ma San should’ve been caught last time, but pulled off a blood escape talisman and fled. Those talismans wreck the body—leaves you in bad shape for a while. Even a Gathering Spirit Realm cultivator would need at least a year or more to recover fully.

Shen Hao just didn’t expect it’d only been three months and these pseudo-evil cultivators couldn’t hold back? They must know how dangerous things are, and they still want to try their luck?

"How did you handle it?"

"I didn’t answer him at all—just let him stew. He probably knows now that I control all the black markets in Jingxi, so eventually he’ll have to come to me. I planned on having Zhang Lie meet with him—last time, that Ma played Zhang Boss for a fool. Street rules say payback’s owed, so Ma has to settle his account with Zhang first."

Shen Hao was silent for a while, tapping his fingers on the table. "This time, no rush. Let him wait, keep him hungry—make him offer up more. And in the end, don’t promise him general spirit stones. Just say we can consider food."

"Food? But..."

Shen Hao waved his hand for silence and continued, "But tell them, they’ll have to handle all transport by themselves."