The fox moved invisibly through the crowded street, lantern light passing harmlessly through its form. Its steps were unhurried, ears flicking as waves of voices, bargaining, and hidden intent washed over it from every direction.
It noticed the lizard's silence.
After a moment, the fox spoke through voice transmission, its tone even—but no longer casual.
*If you're thinking about killing anyone here,* it said, *discard the thought.*
It continued walking, weaving effortlessly between stalls and bodies, unseen and untouched.
*The Night Market has only one rule.*
A pause.
*No conflict.*
The fox's unseen gaze swept the street, sharp and assessing.
*As long as you are inside Rivermarch—inside the market—you obey it. No duels. No ambushes. No sudden, hunger-driven mistakes.*
Its voice hardened slightly.
*Break that rule, and you won't just be facing one opponent.*
*You'll be going against every Foundation Establishment cultivator present.*
Humans.
Beasts.
Ghosts.
*There is no creature at our level that survives that.*
The fox slowed, stepping aside as a group passed straight through its invisible form.
*And that's assuming the ones who run this place don't intervene first.*
A faint edge of seriousness crept into its voice.
*The ones behind the Night Market are rumored to be in the late stages of Foundation Establishment.*
Its ear flicked.
*There's no jade slip confirming it. No banner announcing it.*
*But to maintain a market of this scale—one that hosts demons, ghosts, and cultivators alike—such strength is the bare minimum.*
Another pause.
*So remember this.*
*Inside the Night Market, instinct is a liability.*
*Restraint is survival.*
The fox glanced upward briefly, as if tracking something unseen among the rooftops.
*If you want to hunt…*
Its voice softened, almost amused.
*Wait until we leave.*
The market continued to hum around them—peaceful on the surface, deadly beneath—every being obeying the same unspoken truth:
Here, violence wasn't forbidden because it was immoral.
It was forbidden because it was **unprofitable**.
"As long as we're here," the fox added calmly, "do *not* try anything like that."
It took a few more silent steps—then stopped.
The fox stood before a three-story building tucked neatly between two narrow alleys. Warm lantern light spilled from its windows, and a wide wooden plaque hung above the entrance, carved with flowing characters:
**Moonveil Rest Pavilion**
The name shimmered faintly, infused with a low-grade concealment array.
The fox lifted its head slightly.
"Here," it said. "We'll be staying—"
It cut off mid-sentence.
"Hm?"
Above it, still invisible, the lizard had gone rigid. Its head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring as it drew in a slow, deliberate breath.
Once.
Twice.
The fox tilted its head a fraction.
"What is it?" it asked through voice transmission. "Something wrong?"
There was a brief pause.
Then—
The lizard's maw slowly opened.
A low, confused rumble rolled from its throat, followed by a thick strand of saliva sliding free and dripping downward.
"…What is that smell?" the lizard asked, its voice low and strangely entranced. "I've never smelled anything like it before."
The fox frowned.
"What smell?"
A drop fell.
It landed squarely on the fox's head.
**HSSSS—**
The reaction was immediate.
A sharp hiss sounded as the saliva began to **sizzle**, thin steam rising where it touched fur. The fox stiffened, eyes snapping wide as pain flared across its scalp.
"—!"
It lashed out instinctively, hopping sideways and shaking its head violently.
"Damn it—what the hell do you think you're doing?!" the fox snapped, fury breaking through its earlier calm. "Do you have any idea where you are?!"
Another faint burn prickled.
The fox's tails flared.
"Are you trying to make me go bald by *melting off my fur* with your drool?!"
It spun in place, teeth bared, ears pinned flat, glaring upward at absolutely nothing—eyes blazing even though neither of them could be seen.
The lizard blinked, snapping out of its trance. It looked down at the faintly smoking patch of fur beneath it.
"…My saliva does that?" it asked blankly.
The fox growled.
"This isn't some desolate battlefield," it snapped. "This is the Night Market. Every scent here is layered with formations, pills, beast flesh, soul incense, and things you *absolutely* should not be drooling over in public."
It lowered its voice, teeth clenched.
"And whatever you just smelled…"
Its gaze slid back toward the pavilion's warmly lit entrance.
"…it's not something meant for a half-blind, wounded demon beast to be reacting to like that."
The fox exhaled slowly, forcing its irritation down.
"Control yourself," it said flatly. "Or we're going to have problems before we even step inside."
Then it paused.
The fox sniffed the air, inhaling slowly as it stood before the pavilion.
Once.
Twice.
Its expression shifted—confusion replacing anger.
"What did you even smell?" it muttered.
Its gaze slid toward the entrance of Moonveil Rest Pavilion.
From within, faint waves of aroma drifted outward—warm, rich, layered with unfamiliar spiritual undertones. Not food. Not blood.
Something… cultivated.
Something refined.
The fox frowned, irritation fading further as it lifted its muzzle and took a careful breath.
It sniffed once.
Then again.
"…Apart from wine," the fox said slowly, "I don't smell anything unusual."
Its ears twitched.
"Just alcohol. Good quality, too—but nothing worth drooling over."
Above it, the lizard stiffened.
Its maw opened slightly once more, breath slowing as that same intoxicating scent flooded its senses—warm, deep, layered with something that made its core thrum faintly.
*This isn't normal wine.*
Its tongue flicked once, tasting the air.
*What is this smell?* it asked silently.
---
**{SYSTEM RESPONSE}**
That scent is **Spiritual Bamboo Wine**.
It is brewed using **spirit bamboo sap**, aged in **Yin–Yang balanced vessels**, and fermented with trace amounts of **refined spiritual energy**.
To most cultivators, it is simply a high-quality spirit wine.
Its true value, however—
It is nourishment.
---
The system continued, its tone precise and neutral.
Spiritual Bamboo Wine contains:
• Diluted **life-essence** from spirit bamboo
• Residual **core-nourishing energy**
• Trace compounds that accelerate **regeneration** and **blood recovery** in beast bodies
For injured demon beasts—especially those suffering internal damage or impaired senses—the scent is **extremely stimulating**.
It mimics the aroma of refined flesh and essence.
That is why your instinct reacted.
---
The lizard paused, then pressed again.
*You're making it sound like it only favors beasts. Is it just normal wine to humans?*
---
**{SYSTEM RESPONSE}**
Correction.
**Spiritual Bamboo Wine does not "favor" demon beasts.**
It is a **cultivation resource**, not beast feed.
For **human cultivators**, it:
• Gently nourishes Qi
• Stabilizes meridians
• Calms the mind
• Slightly aids recovery after exhaustion
It is considered **refined, but mild**—useful between cultivation sessions, not a breakthrough item.
---
The system continued.
For **demon beasts**, the effect feels stronger **only because of your current condition**.
You are:
• Injured
• Recently bleeding
• Suffering sensory damage
• Relying on instinct-driven recovery
Your body interprets the wine's life-essence and refined energy as **high-quality restorative input**, similar to refined flesh or core residue.
That is why the scent triggered hunger.
Not because it is meant for beasts—
But because your body is **desperate to heal**.
---
The lizard absorbed that silently.
So normally…
It wouldn't react this way.
This reaction wasn't greed.
It was need.
Below, the fox exhaled quietly.
"But I guess your reaction makes more sense," it muttered, as if answering its own confusion. "To some, it's just expensive wine. A luxury."
Its eyes narrowed slightly.
"But to something injured like you…"
It glanced upward, ears flicking.
"…your body smells medicine."
The fox straightened.
"Which means you're not allowed anywhere near it unsupervised," it added flatly. "One mistake in a place like this, and instinct might get you killed faster than any cultivator."
The Night Market continued to glow around them—civilized on the surface, predatory underneath.