Morning arrived in the City of Sin with none of the gentle transitions that marked dawn in more civilized places. Here, night simply retreated, dragging its shadows back into whatever dark corners they called home, revealing the city's horrors with brutal clarity rather than the soft illumination that might have made them easier to bear.
Wudi Egun rose before the others, his movements silent as he prepared himself for the day ahead. He had slept little during the night, his mind occupied with calculations and plans that required no rest.
When Driver Mo stirred—the old retainer's instincts keeping him alert even in sleep—Wudi Egun was already fully dressed and standing by the window, gazing out at the awakening city with an expression of clinical interest rather than the revulsion most would feel.
"I need to visit the market," he announced without preamble, turning from the window to face the old driver.
Driver Mo frowned, the lines in his weathered face deepening with concern. "Alone? That would be unwise, Master Wudi. The markets in this city are particularly dangerous—even more so than the streets we traversed yesterday."
"Nevertheless, I must go," Wudi Egun replied, his tone making it clear this was a statement of fact rather than a topic for debate. "There are items I require that can only be obtained in such a place."
The old driver's frown deepened. "Then I will accompany you. My knowledge of this city, limited though it may be, could prove valuable in navigating its dangers."
Wudi Egun shook his head, a slight but definitive gesture. "Your concern is noted, but unnecessary. I prefer to conduct this business alone."
Something in his tone—perhaps the absolute certainty or the subtle hint of command beneath his usual politeness—caused Driver Mo to hesitate. He studied the alchemist's face for a moment, searching for some indication of the thoughts behind that carefully maintained mask of mild interest.
"As you wish," he finally conceded, though his expression made it clear he considered this a poor decision. "But take care. This city devours the unwary, regardless of their abilities."
Wudi Egun acknowledged this warning with a slight nod before departing, leaving Driver Mo to explain his absence to the others when they awoke.
He moved through the inn with the same measured pace that characterized all his actions, neither hurrying nor dawdling, his unremarkable appearance allowing him to pass largely unnoticed among the early morning patrons.
Outside, the City of Sin had already resumed its particular brand of daily activities. The horrors they had witnessed upon their arrival had not been anomalies but rather the standard state of affairs, repeated with grim consistency throughout the urban sprawl.
As Wudi Egun made his way toward the market district, he passed scenes that would have broken the spirit of most observers. A man casually carved strips of flesh from a still-living victim, pausing occasionally to season the meat before consuming it raw.
The victim's eyes were still open, though whatever drugs or techniques had been used to keep them conscious while preventing movement had left them capable only of silent suffering.
Nearby, a group of children—none older than ten—practiced their knife skills on a bound prisoner, their small hands already adept at causing maximum pain while prolonging their victim's life. An older child, perhaps twelve, offered corrections to their technique with the serious demeanor of a dedicated instructor.
Further along, a woman was being violated by multiple assailants in full view of passersby, her screams mixing with the laughter of her attackers and the occasional comment from observers who offered suggestions or criticism as if watching a street performance.
Some even tossed coins to the perpetrators in appreciation of particularly cruel innovations.
Thievery occurred openly, the victims often killed afterward regardless of whether they had resisted. Bodies were stripped of valuables and then of useful parts—organs, skin, teeth, hair—anything that might fetch a price in the markets ahead. What remained was left where it fell, adding to the general detritus of the streets.
Most disturbing was not the acts themselves—horrific as they were—but the complete normalization of such behavior.
No one intervened. No one expressed shock or disgust. The perpetrators showed no fear of consequences, operating with the casual efficiency of those performing routine tasks. This was simply life in the City of Sin—a place where the darkest impulses of humanity were not merely indulged but celebrated.
Wudi Egun observed it all with the detached interest of a naturalist studying an unfamiliar ecosystem.
His eyes missed nothing, his expression revealed nothing, and his pace never faltered. If the depravity surrounding him affected him in any way, he kept that reaction buried beneath the impenetrable mask he presented to the world.
After nearly an hour of walking through increasingly disturbing scenes, he finally reached the market district—though "market" seemed an inadequate term for the sprawling bazaar of horrors that spread before him.
Stalls and shops lined both sides of wider streets, offering goods and services that would be forbidden in any civilized territory.
Slave merchants displayed their wares in open cages—men, women, and children of all ages, many stripped naked for easier inspection by potential buyers. Some had been deliberately disfigured or modified to suit particular tastes, their bodies bearing the marks of cruel surgeries or alchemical experiments.
Human heads hung from hooks at several stalls, their expressions frozen in their final moments of terror or pain. Signs advertised their origins and qualities—"Fresh Cultivator Heads, Foundation Establishment and Above," "Virgin Female Heads, Guaranteed Untainted," "Child Heads, Suitable for Specific Rituals."
These were not merely gruesome decorations but merchandise, sold primarily to practitioners of certain forbidden cultivation paths that required such materials.
Nearby, other vendors displayed organs in preservative fluids—hearts, livers, lungs, and more esoteric parts labeled with claims about their spiritual properties or ritual uses.
Some still pulsed with residual life force, indicating how recently they had been harvested from their original owners.
Wudi Egun moved through this macabre marketplace with purpose, his eyes scanning the various establishments until they settled on a structure that stood apart from the cruder stalls surrounding it.
Unlike the makeshift booths and ramshackle shops that dominated the area, this was a proper building—three stories of solid construction with actual architecture rather than mere functionality.
A sign above its entrance proclaimed it the "Sky Jade Building" in characters that glowed with faint spiritual energy, suggesting wards or enchantments of considerable power.
The entrance was flanked by guards whose stillness and focus marked them as more than ordinary muscle—cultivators of at least the Foundation Establishment realm, their eyes constantly scanning the crowd for potential threats.
This, clearly, was an establishment of higher caliber than its surroundings—a place where more valuable and rare items might be found, catering to a clientele with both significant resources and specific requirements beyond what the common market could provide.
Wudi Egun approached without hesitation, his bearing neither overly confident nor inappropriately deferential. The guards assessed him briefly, their spiritual senses detecting nothing remarkable about his cultivation base—or rather, the complete absence of one—but something in his demeanor caused them to admit him without challenge.
Perhaps it was the absolute certainty with which he moved, or perhaps they had been instructed to judge potential customers by criteria beyond the obvious.
The interior of the Sky Jade Building presented a stark contrast to the chaotic squalor outside. Here was luxury and order—polished marble floors, walls adorned with tasteful artwork, display cases of crystal and rare woods containing items of obvious value and power.
The air was clean and carried subtle fragrances that masked any lingering scents from the street. Soft music played from an unseen source, creating an atmosphere of refined commerce rather than desperate haggling.
Wudi Egun had taken no more than a few steps into this sanctuary of civilized commerce when a woman approached from a side chamber.
Her appearance was so striking that even his carefully maintained composure faltered momentarily, his eyes widening slightly before he regained control.
She stood approximately six feet one inch tall, her height accentuated by perfect posture and the subtle elevation of heeled shoes crafted from some exotic leather.
Her figure combined the seemingly contradictory qualities of slenderness and voluptuousness—a narrow waist emphasizing the curves above and below, all displayed to advantage by clothing that managed to be both elegant and provocative.
Her face, however, was what truly commanded attention. It possessed a beauty that transcended conventional standards, each feature not merely perfect in isolation but harmonizing with the others to create an effect that was almost painful to behold—like staring directly at the sun.
Her eyes held depths that suggested wisdom beyond her apparent years, while her lips curved in a smile that promised both pleasure and danger in equal measure.
Long black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of liquid obsidian, catching the light in ways that created blue highlights within the darkness. It moved with her as if possessing a life of its own, each strand perfectly placed yet seeming entirely natural rather than arranged.
Her clothing matched her extraordinary appearance—silks and other fabrics so fine they seemed to float around her form, their colors shifting subtly with her movements and the changing light. Jewelry adorned her in strategic locations, each piece clearly containing significant spiritual energy that hummed just at the edge of perception.
"Welcome to the Sky Jade Building," she greeted him, her voice a perfect contralto that seemed designed to bypass rational thought and speak directly to more primitive parts of the brain. "I am Manager Ying. How may I assist you today?"
There was professional courtesy in her tone, but also assessment—her eyes moving over him with the practiced evaluation of one accustomed to judging worth at a glance.
What she saw was unremarkable—a man of average height and build, dressed in simple but clean traveling clothes, with no visible indicators of wealth or status. Yet something caused her to maintain her welcoming demeanor rather than dismissing him as a waste of her valuable time.
Perhaps it was the way he met her gaze without being either captivated by her beauty or intimidated by her obvious power. Perhaps it was the subtle confidence in his posture that suggested he belonged wherever he chose to be. Or perhaps it was simply that in a city where appearances were often deliberately misleading, she had learned to look beyond the obvious.