The vendor finished setting the jars aside and looked up with a pleasant smile.
"That'll be **fifteen low-grade spirit stones**," he said smoothly.
Inside the layered illusion, the fox's thoughts flickered.
*Fifteen stones… that's a lot to spend on wine.*
Its tails twitched faintly.
*If this deal weren't worth it, I wouldn't even consider it. No wine is worth that much otherwise.*
But this wasn't just wine.
It was recovery.
Leverage.
Silk returned in value tenfold.
The fox's pouch clicked open.
From the vendor's perspective, the woman slipped her hand into her sleeve. In truth, the fox guided the stones out with careful control, letting them appear naturally in her palm.
She placed them on the counter one by one.
"There you go," she said calmly. "Fifteen low-grade spirit stones. Normal quality."
The vendor picked them up, eyes flicking over them as his Qi swept through the stones. Satisfied, he nodded.
At the same time, the fox extended its will.
The ten sealed jars slid smoothly across the counter, passing through the illusion and vanishing soundlessly into the fox's storage pouch.
"You can count them if you wish," the fox added.
The vendor chuckled lightly.
"No need," he said. "I've already done that."
The fox inclined her head slightly.
Then, silently, she sent a voice transmission upward.
*Alright. I've got the wine. Turn me invisible again.*
The vendor smiled, still unaware.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you—"
His words cut off.
The space in front of the stall was empty.
No woman.
No movement.
Just lantern light and the faint, lingering scent of bamboo wine.
The vendor blinked once, then shook his head with a quiet laugh.
"Night Market customers…" he muttered, already turning back to his stall.
He continued humming softly as he gathered the spirit stones, fingers moving out of habit as he prepared to store them away.
One by one.
Then he stopped.
His hand froze.
"…Hm?"
He lifted two of the stones again, narrowing his eyes as his Qi pressed into them more carefully this time.
The glow was there—but weak.
Uneven.
Impure.
His jaw clenched.
"…How didn't I notice this earlier," he muttered darkly.
He turned the stones over in his palm, irritation flashing across his face.
"Damn bastard…"
Two of them.
**Low-grade spirit stones of poor quality.**
Still usable—but worth noticeably less than standard stones.
The vendor let out a slow breath, forcing the annoyance down.
Too late.
The transaction was done.
The customer was gone.
And this was the Night Market—no conflict meant *no conflict*.
He slipped the stones away, eyes hard.
"…Clever," he muttered.
Very clever.
---
Somewhere far from the stall, unseen and already moving on, a fox allowed itself a very small, very private smile.
It slipped back into the flow of the Night Market, invisible once more, lantern light and passing bodies moving harmlessly through its form.
Its thoughts were calm now—satisfied.
*It worked.*
*Exactly as planned.*
With the lizard's concealment, it had entered, negotiated, paid, and vanished without leaving a trail worth following. Even the flawed spirit stones wouldn't be traced back to it—not here, not under the Night Market's rules.
*Clean,* the fox thought. *Efficient.*
It adjusted its pace, already angling back toward familiar territory.
Then it sent a casual voice transmission upward.
"Alright," the fox said lightly. "Let's get a room. Then you can have the wine."
It passed through the entrance of **Moonveil Rest Pavilion**, slipping inside as if it had always belonged there.
Above it, the lizard stiffened.
"…A room?" the lizard repeated, confused.
The fox let out a soft huff—half amusement, half patience.
"Yes," it replied. "A private one. With wards. Doors. And walls that won't collapse if you decide to get enthusiastic with ten jars of spiritual bamboo wine."
It paused, then added dryly,
"Also somewhere you won't melt my fur, the floor, or half the building."
The pavilion's interior was warm and refined—polished wood, low murmurs, the scent of incense layered carefully over alcohol and tea. Cultivators of all kinds moved through the lobby, none paying the invisible fox any attention.
The fox continued forward.
"Don't overthink it," it said. "A room just means we won't be interrupted."
A brief pause followed.
The lizard hesitated, then replied slowly, piecing it together.
"…So it's like a hotel?"
The fox nearly stumbled.
It let out a short, surprised sound.
"Huh."
It glanced upward, ears twitching.
"I didn't think you knew anything about human things," the fox admitted. "But… yeah. That's exactly it. Like a hotel."
They reached the front counter of **Moonveil Rest Pavilion**. Warm lantern light washed over polished wood, and a faint formation hummed beneath the floor—privacy wards, sound-dampening arrays, and layered safety enchantments.
The fox stopped.
"Alright," it said quietly. "Release your invisibility—on me."
The pressure in the air shifted.
Mist gathered.
To the clerk's eyes, a young woman suddenly appeared where there had been nothing a breath before—standing calmly before the counter, hands folded loosely at her front.
No flash.
No distortion.
Just… *there*.
The illusion settled perfectly.
The woman looked up at the attendant and spoke evenly.
"I'd like a room."
Above the fox's head, unseen, the lizard remained perched—silent, alert, and very aware that the wine was finally close.