ACIDEM 07

Chapter – 07

The Demon Market

A faint fragrance lingered at the tip of his nose.

The scent of fruit and wine blended perfectly, unique and intoxicating. If Fu Shaoguang hadn’t had sharp senses, a keen nose, and an unyielding determination to track it down, he might easily have missed it.

He fluttered his wings and dove into a tree hollow, where the aroma grew stronger.

Seeing the small amount of clear, jade-green wine left, he was overjoyed, thinking of the legend of monkey wine.

To survive the winter, the monkeys in the mountains would gather hundreds of fruits and store them in a hollow. If food was plentiful that season, they would forget about the cache. When spring came and temperatures rose, the fruits would ferment.

After a season of fermentation, monkey wine was born—requiring the perfect timing, place, and conditions, and it could only last one season.

Over time, the wine would gradually diminish.

It was priceless and rare.

Now, at the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, finding leftover monkey wine was his good fortune. With this thought, Fu Shaoguang, delighted, plunged headfirst into the wine.

It was refreshing and crisp on the palate, with a balanced sweet and sour taste, leaving a clear, bright sensation as it went down. After drinking his fill, a flash of inspiration struck him: snakes and spiders both loved alcohol. The fact that this monkey wine had survived until now suggested that this tree might be suitable for him to take root in.

He flew several circles around the half-withered old tree, carefully inspecting it. Seeing no predators lurking, Fu Shaoguang decided to make this tree his temporary home.

As the sun set and night fell, the moon hung like a hook, stars sparse, their light faint and dim.

Insects chirped, rustling sounds arose, and nocturnal creatures stirred—the mountain forest was both serene and lively.

On the old tree, Fu Shaoguang breathed, absorbed energy, and cultivated.

A faint glow of moonlight entered his body, which he refined with practiced ease. This time, only a small portion of the energy nourished his demon body; most was converted into magical power and stored within him.

He drank morning dew at dawn, sipped monkey wine at noon, and consumed evening dew at dusk. Aside from eating and drinking, Fu Shaoguang rarely moved, conserving energy by imitating the turtle’s way of resting to preserve life.

Days passed like this.

—

That night.

Summer heat had faded, and the night was cool.

The crunching sound of footsteps on dry branches and leaves startled Fu Shaoguang. Hiding among the leaves, he secretly observed.

Under the watery moonlight, two figures appeared.

They were not human, but two goat demons—one large, one small, one tall, one short, one old, one young.

The young goat walked on all fours, while the old goat walked upright on two legs, dressed in a scholar’s robe and carrying a bookcase on his back.

As they passed by the old tree, Fu Shaoguang had already hidden inside the tree hollow. After they left, he watched their receding figures, hesitated for a moment, then fluttered his wings and followed quietly behind.

Having finally encountered two demons, Fu Shaoguang wanted to observe them further—to see if they lived nearby or where they were headed. Besides, goats were herbivores, and goat demons were likely the same. Following them should be relatively safe.

If anything unexpected happened, maintaining a safe distance would give him enough time to escape.

After walking for who knows how long, the two demons suddenly stopped, drinking dew and chewing wild grass on the spot.

After eating and drinking their fill, they continued on their way.

Around midnight, they stopped in front of a towering tree, dozens of zhang tall, with sprawling roots and lush foliage.

The two demons bowed three times to the old tree, and the old goat surprisingly spoke in human tongue, his aged voice ringing out: “This old man and my grandson have come seeking refuge in the Demon Market, hoping to settle here and seek the Lady’s protection. I beg the elder to grant us passage.”

With that, he took a flask of wine from his bookcase, uncorked it, and poured it over the tree’s roots. The leaves rustled without wind, and a vortex appeared on the massive root system.

Putting away the empty flask, the old goat led the young goat in another bow, then stepped forward and vanished along with the vortex. The old tree returned to calm, appearing under the quiet moonlight as nothing more than an ordinary ancient tree.

Having witnessed this firsthand, Fu Shaoguang’s heart surged with excitement. Though he was still a zhang away, he had heard clearly.

This tree was the entrance to the Demon Market.

The Demon Market was simple to understand—a market and settlement formed by demons, protected by a demoness revered by the old goat as “Lady.”

Any market would have its own rules to regulate demon behavior, and there might even be a prohibition against indiscriminate killing.

For him, it was a good place to go.

He could find safety in numbers, fill the gaps in his knowledge, and stop worrying about danger affecting his lifespan.

Perhaps he could even standardize his cultivation, avoid detours, quickly break through to the next level, and extend his life.

Returning to his temporary home, Fu Shaoguang didn’t rush to go. He carefully weighed the pros and cons. How well was the Demon Market actually managed? He had no way of knowing—it was all just speculation. What if it was dangerous?

But then he thought of the reputation of the Demon Market, which had drawn the old goat and his grandson to come seeking it. It should be relatively safe.

After some consideration, Fu Shaoguang made up his mind. He wanted to go take a look. If it suited him, he would stay; if not, he would leave.

Could a living bug really be choked by its own piss?

—

The wind rustled bamboo leaves, making them dance.

A mayfly adult flitted through the bamboo grove. After searching all day, Fu Shaoguang finally found two suitable hollow bamboo sticks, about two cun long, irregularly shaped and not very pretty. They had likely been nibbled by bamboo beetles, which fed on tender new bamboo shoots.

But for Fu Shaoguang, function was enough.

Using all six legs, he carried the two sticks back to his temporary home, entered the tree hollow, and began filling them with the remaining monkey wine.

There hadn’t been much to begin with.

After several days of drinking and evaporation, the amount had dwindled even further. He had to work hard to scrape together enough to fill both bamboo sticks.

After that, he drank his fill of evening dew and waited for night to fall. When the moon rose above the willows and the mountain forest grew quiet, approaching midnight, Fu Shaoguang set out. He struggled to carry the two bamboo sticks, flapping his wings and flying with determination, bearing the weight through grit and determination.

Dodging one predator after another that eyed him with ill intent, he arrived at the ancient tree. Standing upright, he placed the bamboo tubes side by side, then flew into the air, bowing with effort before picking up one tube and pouring it over the roots.

The clear green wine was absorbed.

The old tree rustled without wind, but no vortex appeared.

A branch extended from the canopy, pointing meaningfully at the other bamboo tube. Fu Shaoguang shook his head in refusal.

Although he had been some distance away last night, he had caught the scent of the wine the old goat offered—it was inferior to monkey wine. What he gave was less in quantity, but higher in quality.

Pure natural herbal essence!

The old tree pointed again, and Fu Shaoguang shook his head once more.

He didn’t know the situation in the Demon Market. If money was needed, the monkey wine might be exchanged for a little something. He didn’t want to end up sleeping on the street.

The old tree had no choice but to give up. A small vortex, about five cun in diameter, appeared on its roots. Fu Shaoguang grumbled inwardly but didn’t show it on his face. He picked up the bamboo tube, flapped his wings, and flew into the vortex.

—

After a dizzying spin.

Once his body steadied, Fu Shaoguang’s first sight was a vast expanse of green lantern-light, forming lanterns that floated in the air.

They echoed the bright moon and sparse stars in the sky.

Fireflies danced around the green lights.

Then he saw a small town.

More precisely, it looked very much like a village.

At the village entrance stood a huge archway made of round logs, with no carvings or decorations. On the plaque in the middle were four characters:

【Yushan Demon Market】

Unfortunately, Fu Shaoguang couldn’t read.

Under the archway was a small courtyard with demon soldiers on guard. A line of demons stood in orderly fashion, waiting to register inside.

When it was Fu Shaoguang’s turn, the old weasel demon in charge paused slightly, squinted, and said in surprise:

“This old man has lived sixty years, and this is the first time I’ve seen a mayfly become a demon. Truly, the great world is full of wonders.”

After a few remarks, the weasel demon had Fu Shaoguang infuse a wisp of his aura into a specially made bamboo token. Then, dipping the tip of his tail in ink, he wrote the two characters for “mayfly” on the deliberately crafted bamboo slip.

A number was completely unnecessary—it was the only one of its kind in the entire Demon Market.