The second stall… junk.
The third stall… still junk!
As he walked on, Han Ning felt like he had wandered into a movie studio's prop room. There was all sorts of strange and bizarre stuff.
For example: a mottled Iron Sword, fragmented Armor, ancient Jade, clothing from an unknown era reeking of rot and decay, yellowed opera robes, a Mixed Element Golden Dipper, paper effigies, Copper Coins... The variety was overwhelming, and it was all a mess.
This stuff was just old and broken, without any Energy fluctuations or strange auras. He had no idea which film set they'd salvaged this junk from.
They brought it all here and made it look mysterious, all to lure in some sucker.
He could understand why most of the items were rundown. Any real antiques in perfect condition would be in a museum.
Han Ning stopped when he reached the middle of the black market, in front of a narrow stall that was barely more than a square meter.
The faint scent of blood drifted into his nose.
