"Please, everyone, have a seat."
Inside the newly constructed reception hall of Sacrifice City, Mo Jiao stood with his hands behind his back, his posture relaxed yet imposing. His gaze slowly swept across the assembled figures, lingering just long enough on each face to silently assess their reactions.
Present in this hall were nearly all the top forces of the Black-Corner Region.
Yuan Yi, Sect Master of Eight Gates.
Yan, Sect Master of the Earth Flame Sect.
Tie Wu, Leader of the notorious Mad Lion Gang.
Su Mei, the ever-elusive Leader of the Rakshasa Gate.
And seated noticeably lower than the rest—
Han Feng, the famed Medicine Emperor.
If anyone had told them half a year ago that these people would one day gather obediently in the same hall, waiting to be addressed like guests at a banquet, they would have laughed it off as nonsense.
But today, no one laughed.
After personally witnessing the annihilation of the Blood Sect and sensing the terrifying depth of the Sacrificial Shop, these once-arrogant overlords had no choice but to lower their heads. Each of them had come bearing gifts—not out of courtesy, but out of survival instinct.
Mo Jiao's calm voice broke the silence.
"There is no need to be nervous," he said lightly. "As long as you do not actively become enemies of the Shop, the Shop will not act against you."
He paused briefly, letting the words settle.
"After all, the Sacrificial Shop's principle has always been fair trade—not bullying the weak."
The moment those words fell, Han Feng's fingers tightened slightly inside his sleeves.
As a seventh-grade alchemist, his perception was far keener than most. When Mo Jiao said this, there was no fluctuation in his aura, no trace of threat or intimidation. It was as if he were merely stating an everyday truth.
That was precisely what made it terrifying.
This was not a warning.
It was not a negotiation.
It was a fact.
"May I ask," Han Feng finally spoke, forcing his voice to remain steady, "what specific businesses your esteemed Shop operates?"
The hall grew quiet.
Everyone knew that Han Feng was asking the question they all wanted answered. Feng City's foundation, his personal prestige, and even the future balance of the Black-Corner Region all hinged on this response.
Mo Jiao nodded, as if he had expected this from the start.
"The Sacrificial Shop's goods are divided into four main categories," he explained unhurriedly.
"Medicinal pills. Special equipment. Cultivation techniques. And Dou Skills."
He raised a finger.
"Let us begin with medicinal pills, since that is what everyone is most concerned about."
Several breaths unconsciously slowed.
"Medicinal pills below the sixth grade will be sold randomly at the Shop's counter. Availability depends on refresh cycles."
"If the customer provides their own medicinal ingredients, then even seventh-grade or eighth-grade medicinal pills can be refined on their behalf."
The reaction was instant.
"Eighth-grade?!"
Han Feng stood up abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. His pupils contracted violently, disbelief and shock flashing across his face.
As the Medicine Emperor, he understood better than anyone what that statement meant.
Even Yao Chen—his former master, known across the continent—had to exert his full strength and focus to refine an eighth-grade pill. The success rate was abysmally low, and the cost was enough to bankrupt most first-rate factions.
And yet this Shop spoke of it as if it were routine.
Before Han Feng could speak again, the Golden and Silver Elders rose almost simultaneously.
Their aged faces trembled with barely concealed excitement.
"What about the Po Zong Pill?" Golden Elder asked urgently.
These two old monsters had been stuck at the peak of Dou Emperor for decades. Their lifespan was nearing its limit, and without breaking through to Dou Sect, death was no longer a distant concept.
Han Feng himself had an extremely low success rate refining the Po Zong Pill. Worse still, the medicinal ingredients required were so rare that even he struggled to gather a complete set.
Mo Jiao did not keep them waiting.
"The Po Zong Pill is a sixth-grade medicinal pill," he said calmly.
"If the customer provides three complete sets of medicinal ingredients, the refining fee is 100,000 sacrificial coins, and the Shop guarantees one successful pill."
A wave of suppressed gasps rippled through the hall.
He continued, unfazed.
"The pill may also appear on the Shop counter. In that case, it can be directly purchased for 1.8 million sacrificial coins."
"If the customer does not wish to wait for a refresh and instead chooses to pre-order, an additional fifty percent fee applies, totaling 2.7 million sacrificial coins, with immediate delivery after payment."
The room fell into dead silence.
"Sacrificial coins?" Yuan Yi frowned, breaking the stillness. The unfamiliar term immediately put everyone on guard.
Mo Jiao turned his gaze toward him and explained patiently.
"Sacrificial coins are the Shop's exclusive currency. There are three ways to obtain them."
He raised three fingers.
"First, exchange them for heavenly treasures, rare materials, and valuable resources."
"Second, complete missions issued by the Shop."
"Third, exchange cultivation techniques or Dou Skills not yet recorded by the Shop."
As these words sank in, the expressions of everyone present grew increasingly grim.
Han Feng's heart sank.
He understood immediately.
Once sacrificial coins entered circulation—paired with a stable supply of high-grade medicinal pills—the existing power structure of the Black-Corner Region would be completely overturned.
Gold coins would become meaningless.
Sect rewards would lose their appeal.
When a Shop mission conflicted with a Sect mission, which would disciples choose?
Rare techniques. Earth-grade Dou Skills. Guaranteed pills.
The answer was obvious.
This Sacrificial Shop would not conquer the Black-Corner Region with force—it would absorb it silently, using temptation and opportunity as its weapons.
"What if we refuse?" Han Feng asked coldly, forcing down the turbulence in his heart. "What if we choose not to participate?"
Mo Jiao looked at him, expression calm, almost indifferent.
"That is entirely your choice," he said.
"The Shop has never forced anyone."
"As long as you do not target the Shop, you are free to stay or leave."
He spread his hands slightly, making a polite gesture of invitation.
Han Feng's heart roared with anger.
Free?
This was the cruelest form of coercion.
Once the Shop opened, Feng City's foundation would be hollowed out from the inside. Without the absolute authority of a seventh-grade alchemist, his prestige would collapse, piece by piece.
Before he could speak again, the Golden and Silver Elders exchanged a glance—and laughed.
"We are willing," Golden Elder said without hesitation, cupping his fists.
"To exchange all our worldly possessions for the Po Zong Pill."
Silver Elder nodded vigorously.
These two had lived for hundreds of years. Faced with the chance to step into the Dou Sect realm, what was a Medicine Emperor's favor worth?
In a world where the strong devoured the weak, strength was the only truth.
Mo Jiao lifted his hand slightly. A Ninja in a green vest emerged soundlessly from the shadows.
"Escort the two distinguished guests to the exchange counter," Mo Jiao instructed.
"Wait," Silver Elder suddenly raised his hand.
Golden Elder chuckled and wiped his storage ring. A jade box appeared in his palm, its surface icy cold.
"Shopkeeper, we old fellows prefer to trade face-to-face."
He opened the box, revealing a crimson Ganoderma pulsing faintly with vitality.
"This Blood Ganoderma—how many sacrificial coins is it worth?"
Mo Jiao glanced at it.
"Three hundred and fifty thousand."
Silver Elder's eyes lit up instantly. "What else has a high exchange rate?"
"High-grade demonic cores. Rare medicinal ingredients. Rare metals. Self-created pill formulas. Monster materials. Self-created cultivation techniques and Dou Skills," Mo Jiao replied, gesturing for the Ninja to present a valuation list.
The two elders wasted no time.
Fifth-grade cores. Sixth-grade cores. Spiritual herbs preserved for decades. Treasures piled up like a small mountain.
Most striking of all—
A complete set of Po Zong Pill ingredients.
"One complete set offsets one-third of the price," Mo Jiao said calmly.
"Final price: 1.8 million sacrificial coins."
As the appraiser worked with astonishing speed and precision, the onlookers grew increasingly unsettled. Nothing escaped his eyes—not even mutated herbs unique to the Black-Corner Region.
Yuan Yi felt cold sweat dampen his palms.
Unfathomable.
That was the only word that fit.
When the exchange was completed, Mo Jiao produced a jade bottle and pushed it forward.
The stopper was removed.
Pill fragrance flooded the hall.
Even dormant Dou Qi within the bodies of the elders stirred instinctively.
"It's genuine…" Golden Elder whispered, his voice trembling. "Top-grade Po Zong Pill."
Silver Elder straightened and cupped his fists deeply.
"Once the Mission Hall is established, my brother and I will fully support the Shop."
Those words echoed like a declaration.
The dam broke.
Yuan Yi stepped forward at once.
"Eight Gates is willing to support the Sacrificial Shop's establishment. May we exchange for an Emperor-grade pill?"
"As long as sufficient sacrificial coins are prepared," Mo Jiao replied evenly, "the Shop will not disappoint."
Su Mei smiled softly, eyes glinting with calculation.
"What about rare metals?"
"If you have them," Mo Jiao said.
"I have intelligence on several ore veins."
"This Shop only accepts physical items."
Han Feng clenched his fists.
Finally, through gritted teeth, he spoke:
"I also wish to pre-order a Po Zong Pill."
The words tasted like poison.
But he had no other choice.
If he did not break through to Dou Sect soon—
everything he had built would crumble.