Jiang Chen sat atop a hump of hardened flesh, a ten-meter cloth of coarse grey hemp spread neatly before him.
Upon it rested over a hundred kinds of spirit herbs. Thunder Cloud Grass flickered with faint sparks of purple lightning, while Clear Moon Orchid exuded a subtle fragrance that seemed to calm the soul. And Black Sand Ginseng twitched its root tendrils as if dreaming of burrowing back into the earth.
Every herb from the Jade Heart Plantation was displayed for sale, with small plaques placed before each, bearing their names, common uses, and the prices at which he offered them.
Two shadowy figures stood at the edge of the cloth, silently examining a cluster of Verdant Spirit Grass.
Jiang Chen felt no satisfaction at the sight, for they were his clones, summoned only to create the illusion of popularity that might entice passing cultivators to stop and linger.
Yet even this trick fell flat.
