Chapter 4385 — A Misunderstanding!

And that one lone clerk left behind had been summoned away by Qi Wenmo for questioning, which was precisely why Wei Zhao had made his way up unimpeded, straight to the third floor where the idly curious were barred from entry.

Seeing no one about, Wei Zhao felt a flicker of surprise, though he had no intention of lingering. He was just turning to head back downstairs when his ears suddenly pricked up—someone was actually talking inside one of the private rooms not far off.

Wei Zhao was startled on the spot. He had swept the third floor with his divine sense just moments ago and detected no one at all. Granted, it had been only a cursory pass, nothing thorough—but anyone who could slip past his divine perception had to be a rare hand indeed.

Holding a conversation in a private room, and deliberately concealing their auras besides—who on earth was being so secretive?

Wei Zhao's curiosity stirred, though only mildly; he had no wish to intrude on another's talk. But then a single sentence drifted out of the room, and he halted in his tracks.

"These sundries have been in terribly short supply lately. We must find a way to get headquarters to send more over from the mortal realm, or we may well run dry in a couple of days."

"Indeed. Our stock was already running desperate yesterday. If we don't hurry them along with the shipments, we're bound to be cleaned out on our end—and then we'll be in real trouble!"

"Mm, I'll think of some way to press them again. Lucky for us the teleportation lands close by, so our branch gets first pick. Otherwise, even if the goods came through, they'd never reach us—we might not even get a taste of the broth..."

"True enough. Headquarters' strategy is masterful—stirring up a mortal-realm craze across the five Cloud-Tier Isles, turning these ordinary goods into a fashion, a symbol of status and standing. Everyone's forced to scramble to buy them; refuse, and you lose face, you can't hold your head up among friends!"

"Heh heh. Even counting the teleportation costs, the expense works out to a few dozen spirit jade per item at most, and yet a turn of the hand sells them for thousands, even tens of thousands—an astronomical price. Is there any more profitable trade under heaven?"

"In the mortal realm's phrasing, that's called a monopoly. Who else has these goods but us? No matter how high we set the price, they've no choice but to hand over their spirit jade meekly. Hahaha!"

Wei Zhao's heart stirred at these words, and he crept cautiously closer. Ever since the Central Merchant Guild had burst onto the scene, he had been intensely curious about it—above all, about the means by which goods were brought from the mortal realm to Tianji Island. From the sound of it, these two were insiders of the guild; perhaps he might catch a telltale hint or two.

He held his breath and gathered his focus, reining in his aura with all his might, striving to blend into his surroundings. Lurking and concealment—the most essential discipline of any assassin. Wei Zhao had always been a master of the art; even adepts a full realm above him would find him hard to detect, let alone those of his own level.

Yet before Wei Zhao could draw near, the two inside the room suddenly fell silent—cutting off mid-sentence. Wei Zhao jolted as if struck by lightning. Blast it!

This was no place to linger! With no time for any other response, no time even to think, Wei Zhao acted on the instant, swiftly pulling on the Thousand-Silk Mask to change his face, and made to turn and flee.

Alas, he was still too slow. Two figures, appearing as if from nowhere, had already blocked his path of retreat.

Wei Zhao was shaken to the core. What caliber of adept were these two, that he had concealed himself so carefully and still been caught with such ease!

The two men before him—one masked in black, the other sinister in form and spirit—shared one thing in common: the aura of both was unfathomably deep, beyond the measure of Wei Zhao's golden finger. In other words, both were at least Nascent Soul adepts.

And yet Wei Zhao had seen plenty of Nascent Soul adepts; barring existences like those of the Heavenly Dao, none of them imposed much pressure on him. These two before him, however, set the true qi within his body stirring restlessly of its own accord—something he had never once experienced. Clearly these two were no ordinary matter!

"Who goes there? How dare you trespass into the guild's forbidden ground! Ma Tianlang, seize him for me!" The man in black issued the order without another word, and the sinister-looking man beside him, Ma Tianlang, flashed a killing intent in his eyes and erupted into motion.

The moment Ma Tianlang struck, a storm surged in Wei Zhao's heart. He had already sensed these two were no ordinary matter, and now that his opponent had unleashed his full field of force, the truth stood revealed: a top-tier adept of the Mystic Ascension stage!

Even at East Continent's Dawnstar Academy, Mystic Ascension adepts were existences of the trinity-head caliber. Just what kind of power was this Central Merchant Guild, that one could casually run into such monsters here—and more to the point, this Ma Tianlang appeared to be merely the black-clad man's subordinate!

With Wei Zhao's present cultivation at the mid Golden Core stage, had his opponents been merely Nascent Soul adepts—even two late-stage Nascent Souls—he might still have had a fighting chance by unleashing his trump-card killing move. He could not have slain them both, but at least escaping in the chaos would have posed little difficulty.

But now, before him stood top-tier Mystic Ascension adepts, a full two great realms above him. How was he to contend with that?

Not even Wei Zhao, for all his heaven-defying talent, could pit a mere mid-stage Golden Core against such an outrageously powerful Mystic Ascension titan. Otherwise the only outcome was this: he would not even have time to react before being crushed on the spot.

"A misunderstanding! A misunderstanding! I'm only a guest—" Wei Zhao cried out in desperate inspiration. Fighting was out of the question now; all he could do was use this to lower their guard a little and seize whatever opening came.

"A guest?" Ma Tianlang looked Wei Zhao up and down, saw that his face was indeed unfamiliar, and noted that no clerk stood watch at the third-floor stairway. He was half convinced—yet still he sneered, "Misunderstanding, my foot! You've trespassed in this place; don't imagine you'll be leaving!"

With that, Ma Tianlang's form drifted—by what movement technique, none could tell—and in the blink of an eye he was behind Wei Zhao, one hand clamped on his right shoulder.

Feeling the near-tangible baleful qi in that grip, even Wei Zhao broke into a cold sweat. The man had scarcely exerted any force, and already the true qi in his body could hardly circulate. Unable to muster his true qi, he was no different from an ordinary man, fit only to be slaughtered at will. The gulf between their strength was simply too vast—truly, he had not the slightest power to resist.

Still, Wei Zhao counted himself somewhat fortunate. Thank goodness he had spoken those words; his captor had merely restrained him rather than striking to kill outright. Otherwise, he would already be a corpse by now. (To be continued...)