Chapter 49

Chapter 49: One man kills in seconds with one move, and there is no scum left

Upon hearing Wu Ping’s announcement, the eager crowd couldn’t contain themselves. Someone suggested, “These are excellent items, and we’re all discerning. Let’s auction them off! The highest bidder gets the prize!”

“Absolutely! This Baishan sword looks incredibly sharp.”

“Hehehe, I’ve been thinking of changing my martial arts technique, and Baishan’s ‘Observing the Mountain and Breathing Technique’ suits me perfectly.”

As more people gathered around, Wu Ping became intrigued. “Alright, let’s go with an auction. You can take it at my price if it doesn’t work out. No loss either way.”

Wu Ping raised the Baishan Sword, declaring, “Baishan Sword is a medium-grade immortal sword artefact. Starting price: one hundred spirit stones. Bidding begins!”

“One hundred spirit stones are too cheap! I bid one hundred and one!”

“I’m bidding one hundred and two.”

“One hundred and five!”

With successive bids, the Baishan sword’s final transaction price reached two hundred spirit stones, much to Wu Ping’s delight. He hadn’t expected such a handsome profit. The news of the demon and evil twin stars conducting a playful auction quickly spread through the ghost market.

Wu Qi, uninterested, shook his head, saying, “What’s there to do? Boring, and can’t kill people.”

As they spoke, the onlookers dispersed, making way for a monk who had reached the soul realm. He greeted them, “I don’t know if the two demons and evil double stars are here. My master, the steward of this ghost city, has invited you. Would you honour us with your presence?”

Considering the invitation, Wu Ping replied, “Since it’s an invitation, might as well go. It’s a matter of fact, after all. I’m quite busy, but I’ll make time.”

The monk seemed anxious, appearing before Wu Ping and Wu Qi. He warned, “You two have violated the ghost market’s ban. It’s better to follow me. If you resist, it won’t look good for anyone. Killing He Baishan doesn’t grant you unrestricted freedom.”

Wu Ping, intrigued by the mandatory invitation, found it amusing. This invitation was without room for refusal, and the master’s identity was unimportant. The significant factor was that he had to die.

“Getting in the way? Seeking death!” Wu Ping reached out, and his palm turned fiery red as if covered in magma. However, the steward was prepared, donning gloves woven from the silk of four cicadas, each from a different season, and adorned with a poisonous blade.

Confident in his defence, the steward’s gloves proved useless against Wu Ping’s seemingly indestructible skin. The formidable force in Wu Ping’s hands effortlessly overwhelmed the steward, causing him to be blasted backwards, his body mangled and bloodied.

With a hand on his sword hilt, Wu Qi urged the wind. A violent gust swept through, disintegrating the monk who had ascended to the soul realm, turning him into blood foam that dispersed with the wind.

Turning to Wu Qi, Wu Ping asked, “How did you snatch my kill? He’s supposed to die instantly!”

A bit embarrassed, Wu Qi admitted, “I made a mistake. It was impulsive.”