Chapter Eighteen: The Breath-Concealing Talisman

As someone devoted to the study of bronze artifacts in archaeology, Feng Ke’er believed these bronze cauldrons were impeccable in material and craftsmanship, their quality sturdy beyond compare. To use them for boiling water or cooking seemed a terrible waste. Yet, after searching the entire market, she couldn't find a suitable clay pot or ceramic jar. Looking around, only these bronze cauldrons came closest to her ideal cooking vessel. Moreover, throughout the market, there was but one vendor selling cauldrons…

Feng Ke’er felt a faint dread. If she had any choice, she wouldn’t patronize the black-faced uncle. She didn’t know if she could afford to exchange for one, but gathering her courage, she softly asked, “Uncle, how do I exchange for a bronze cauldron?”

The black-faced uncle opened his eyes, a quick gleam flashing in them. He raised one eyebrow and asked quietly, “What do you want a bronze cauldron for?”

With that, the mask of Judge Bao shattered, revealing a handsome man with sword-like brows and fierce eyes. Feng Ke’er sensed the gazes of many young female cultivators heating up around her—apparently, the black-faced uncle wasn’t as terrifying as he appeared. He even spoke gently, with a magnetic baritone that was pleasing to the ear. Truly, the sea cannot be measured, nor can a man be judged by his appearance.

She realized she was distracted and quickly refocused, answering seriously, “I want to buy… exchange for a cauldron to boil water and cook food.” What else would one do with a clumsy, heavy bronze cauldron—use it as a bath tub? Of course, she only dared to mutter that to herself. Who knew what the black handsome man would turn into next if his mask shattered again!

Unexpectedly, the black-faced uncle seemed to hear her inner thoughts, and covered his mouth with a fist, chuckling lightly. “Hmm, using an alchemy furnace as a bath tub—only you, well, a girl like you would dare imagine such a thing!”

Feng Ke’er was startled, as if struck by lightning, and retreated several steps, clutching her three wild chickens, warily asking, “How do you know what I’m thinking?” Nervous, she forgot her formal language and spoke as she would in modern times, using casual pronouns.

The black-faced uncle merely smiled, unfazed. “If I wish to know, I will know.” With that, he crooked a finger at her, beckoning mischievously, “Come here.”

His voice was soft, but carried great force. Instantly, Feng Ke’er felt her legs bewitched. Though her mind commanded them to flee, her legs stubbornly carried her back to the stall.

The black-faced uncle grabbed her wrist, pressing her pulse as a physician would, then released it, murmuring in disappointment, “Not the one.”

Feng Ke’er was desperate to run, but the man seemed like a magnet, his pull irresistible. She couldn’t even move, let alone escape. Anxiety and fear welled up, cold sweat pouring down her back.

The black-faced uncle’s smile faded, and he reverted to the stern Judge Bao, dignified and untouchable. After a brief contemplation, he pointed at the bronze cauldrons before him and said, “Girl, it seems we share some connection. Pick any one of these cauldrons; I’ll give it to you.”

What? Free? It was as if a pie had fallen from the sky. Feng Ke’er stared at him in disbelief. No matter which eye she used, she couldn’t see any “connection” with this man.

“If you wish to pick, hurry up. Girl, I’ll only count to three. Any later, and the offer is void.” The black-faced uncle cast her a sidelong glance, grumbling, “One…”

He was far too powerful, not even in the same league as her. It was like a cat determined to toy with a mouse—did the mouse have any right to refuse? Feng Ke’er steeled herself, deciding to play the mouse. In broad daylight, under heaven’s gaze, surely a Foundation Establishment cultivator wouldn’t dare act recklessly!

She calmed her mind and swept her gaze over the cauldrons on the stall. She had already set her sights on one, but suspected the black-faced uncle was testing her for some reason. So she deliberately ignored her favorite, and began knocking each cauldron, starting from the one at her feet.

“Two!” He clearly had no intention of giving her more time. “Three!”

Without delay, Feng Ke’er pointed to a three-legged, double-handled bronze cauldron about the size of a four-liter pressure cooker among those she’d knocked and said, “This one!” It was ideal—though a bit less attractive than her favorite, larger, and thinner, it would be perfect for making soup or porridge.

She was a person with pride in her bones. If it were her, faced with coercion, she would stubbornly choose her original pick. But this was not her! The black-faced uncle sighed, pointing to her favorite cauldron, “Your taste is good. That one is a top-grade spiritual artifact, the best of all here. The one you’ve chosen is a low-grade spiritual artifact. Generally, cultivators in the lower realm use low-grade magical tools when first learning alchemy. If you use it to cook, you’ll astonish many cultivators.”

Indeed, nothing escaped his eyes. Low-grade magical tools, top-grade spiritual artifacts! And “lower realm cultivators”—was he from the “upper realm” then? Anyone hearing his words would be both annoyed and exasperated!

Feng Ke’er felt the same, but a free low-grade spiritual artifact, obtained without theft or trickery, was a rare blessing. Contentment brings happiness!

She concealed her bitterness and cautiously asked, “May I ask why? Um, uncle, please don’t take offense. I mean no disrespect, but I do not wish to accept your kindness without merit, even though my cultivation is humble.”

The black-faced uncle paused, then shook his head with a soft sigh. “To say it’s not, it seems so; to say it is, the temperament is entirely different. The aura and cultivation method are completely wrong. In short, I mistook you for someone else. Consider this cauldron a gift to calm your nerves.” He muttered inwardly: This girl talks too much—how could she be the reincarnation of her soul? Another wasted trip!

In the past, if such a nobody dared fantasize before him, he would have crushed them with a slap. If it weren’t for her being a saintess of the Feng clan, and her bearing resembling that other person, he wouldn’t bother explaining anything to a low-level female cultivator.

From his words, he didn’t regard her as a peer at all. Hmph, so what if you’re an elite disciple of the inner sect? A gift, after all—she’d be foolish not to accept. Feng Ke’er thought to offer her three wild chickens in return, but reconsidered; this proud man who casually handed out spiritual artifacts would hardly care for mere white-ranked demon beasts. So she dismissed the idea, clasped her hands in salute, and said cheerfully, “I am Feng Ke’er. Thank you, uncle, for your gift. The green hills endure, the rivers flow on—may we meet again.”

With that, she tried placing all three wild chickens into the low-grade spiritual artifact cauldron. Sure enough, each chicken was larger than its opening, but not only did it hold all three, it looked as if it could fit a dozen more—inside, the chickens shrank to a fraction of their original size, each now smaller than a pigeon.

She’d seen more strange and wondrous things in this short time than in the past twenty-one years combined. So, unfazed, she simply blinked at the cauldron, picked it up, and left. She disliked the feeling of standing before this man—it was like being scanned by an X-ray, leaving no privacy.

Hah, her skills weren’t great, but her temper was notorious! She was known for her bad temper… Well, for her sake, he’d offer a little guidance. The black-faced uncle raised an eyebrow and spoke slowly, “Girl, you have a Concealing Aura Talisman on you. This talisman was crafted by a master at the Golden Immortal level, so ordinary cultivators cannot see through your cultivation or sense your presence with their spiritual sense. However, you can detect spirit power fluctuations below the Golden Immortal level.” He paused, realizing that with his cultivation suppressed to appear as a Foundation Establishment cultivator, she might not believe him, so he half-truthfully added, “Uh, I… was born with extraordinary eyesight, so I can see the talisman. But this talisman has both advantages and drawbacks. Advantage: in a fight, you can confuse opponents, playing the fool to catch the tiger. Drawback: in the cultivation world, a cultivator without visible cultivation is considered lower than dirt. I’ve said enough—girl, take care.”

A Concealing Aura Talisman drawn by a Golden Immortal! That was insane! Possessing a treasure invites disaster. Could a novice at the Qi Refining stage possibly protect it? Announcing this in public—was he trying to get her killed?

Damn it! Did she have a grudge with him? Did she throw his child down a well, or was it him she’d tossed in? Feng Ke’er rolled her eyes in anger, turned, and gritted her teeth in thanks, “Thank you, uncle, for the advice…” Before she could finish, she was petrified—there was no trace of him behind her. Not only had he vanished, but the mat and dozens of cauldrons were gone, as if they had never existed.

Looking around, everyone seemed frozen, immobilized in various expressions and poses.

This man was terrifying. Could a Foundation Establishment cultivator really be so monstrous? Feng Ke’er was startled, her limbs weak; the cauldron in her arms slipped and nearly crushed her foot.

Suddenly, everyone snapped out of their trance, ending their wooden state in unison. They looked around in confusion—what had just happened? Why did their minds feel as if a piece was missing?

Their eyes fell on Feng Ke’er and her “rice pot,” and several eyes lit up.

“Sister, how can I exchange for that alchemy furnace?”

“Sister, will you trade the alchemy furnace?”

“Sister—”

“Not trading!” Feng Ke’er grabbed her “alchemy furnace” and bolted. The black-faced uncle was decent enough to erase everyone’s memory of the incident.

In the distance, a group watched her greedily. Leading them was a tall woman in a long white silk robe. Following closely were two men and another woman. The men wore short white silk robes, the other woman, like Feng Ke’er, wore a short blue cloth robe.

“Go, follow her!” The tall woman’s eyes flashed coldly as she ordered.

“Yes, Sister Ziyu.”

—Seeking reviews and votes from the peak… Who’ll claim the first spot on this thread? This peak never hesitates to share points; and for every thousand recommendation votes, there will be bonus chapters, never an empty promise.

Tongtian Codex, Chapter 18: Concealing Aura Talisman, updated!