Who is she?

The market wasn't exactly high-class. It wasn't the shiny, posh inner court where nobles pranced around pretending their shit didn't stink.

But it had energy.

It was lively. Messy. Chaotic.

And unlike the uptight assholes in the inner court, the people here weren't busy trying to out-cultivate each other or flex their family lineage every five minutes.

Here? Barely anyone was a cultivator.

And the ones who were? Low-rank nobodies who probably spent more time trying to look mysterious than actually cultivating.

He grinned.

'No self-respecting cultivator stays out here once they get powerful enough to move inside the walls.'

Why would they? Inside, everything was better.

The food. The alcohol. The luxury. The women.

But then again…

Artis tapped his chin, his smirk widening.