Chapter Twenty-One: The Free Market and the Entertainment District

At present, Wang Ling possessed a total of 12,799 currency points, 14 skill points, and 2 dream skill points.

Princess Peach’s necklace was a must-bind item. The price for soul binding shocked Wang Ling—it required 5,000 currency points! This was outright robbery, but he had no choice. It wasn’t as if he could sell the necklace; he could only pay up obediently.

He bought three basic skill books at the terminal, each costing 2,000 points. Thankfully, upgrading basic skills only required skill points—no currency points—and the doubling effect didn’t apply. After using the skill books and spending three skill points, Wang Ling raised Basic Footwork, Basic Parry, and Basic Endurance to LV2, meeting the prerequisites for Accelerated Run, Iron Head, and Iron Legs. Yet, another problem surfaced.

To upgrade these three skills further, he needed not only skill points but also currency points—Wang Ling now had just 1,799 points left, completely insufficient, especially since he needed to unlock the kung fu card scenario and challenge story characters within.

“It seems I’ll have to sell something,” he sighed.

After equipping the Heart of Peach, Wang Ling took out all his items from the space pouch. They were as follows:

“Kung fu cards, Spirit Potion・1, Mushroom Pouch (Extra Life Mushroom・3), Sliding Shell・8, Homing Shell・2, Copper Coin・62, Silver Coin・1, Gold Coin・2, Squid Tentacle.”

The three types of coins could be exchanged for currency points, but it was negligible. Sliding and homing shells were useful gadgets; the squid tentacle material likely wouldn’t fetch much; the kung fu cards were absolutely not for sale. After much deliberation, Wang Ling decided to sell the extra life mushrooms.

Only such items could support the heavy costs of upgrading three skills.

Leaving his private room again, Wang Ling headed straight to the free market, set up his stall, and placed a single mushroom on display.

Compared to those around him, Wang Ling’s stall was pitiful—no equipment, no skill books, just a single blue-spotted mushroom. Immediately, mocking laughter sounded nearby; no one even bothered to look.

Two minutes later, a dreamer strolled over. He wore heavy armor, a massive sword slung over his shoulder—likely gear from a mission world. The protective mist obscured his features, but from his head, it was clear he was a blond Caucasian.

He crouched by Wang Ling’s stall, curious. After checking the mushroom’s data with his dream badge, his expression changed, though his tone remained casual: “How much for this mushroom?”

Wang Ling had browsed the free market before and found no similar anti-erasure item; he knew the mushroom was extremely rare. He quoted an outrageous price: “One hundred thousand currency points.”

The blond immediately snapped, “Are you kidding? This mushroom is somewhat useful, but at most it’s worth ten thousand—you’ve inflated the price tenfold!”

Wang Ling smiled and shrugged, saying nothing. He had plenty of time; even if this fellow agreed to a hundred thousand, he wouldn’t sell immediately. Only with more buyers could he estimate the mushroom’s true value.

The blond’s expression shifted further. He was a veteran, having completed seven E-level and five D-level missions, fairly knowledgeable about dream space. This mushroom was indeed an anti-erasure item, extraordinarily precious! He’d been in dream space for months, and in the low-level free market, he’d only seen such items once before.

In the world of Tank Wars, there were “Life Reward Molds.”

Failing a main mission meant erasure; the Life Reward Mold (essentially an extra life tank) created a tank to take the user’s place, enduring erasure. Compared to extra life mushrooms, the Life Reward Mold was superior—it preserved all gains from that world, though without clearance rewards. Its selling price was astronomical.

“180,000 currency points!”

Low-level dreamers couldn’t afford such terrifying sums. Only a few intermediate teams could pay that much, coming to the low-level public area to bid. The blond recalled that after fierce bidding, the Life Reward Mold was bought by a team called “Wolf Pack,” reputedly powerful in the intermediate zone.

He observed Wang Ling, who wore ordinary jeans and a white T-shirt (the Heart of Peach around his neck was hidden by the shirt, and after soul binding, its rainbow glow faded). With no aura of a strong fighter, the blond reckoned he was just a newbie, then said to Wang Ling:

“Be honest—how much are you willing to sell the mushroom for? If it’s reasonable, I’ll buy it. In the low-level zone, I, George Gold, am quite famous and capable; few can match my wealth! Your price is too high—no one here can afford it!”

Wang Ling smiled again. “One hundred thousand currency points.”

George nearly exploded. He stifled his anger and offered, “Fifteen thousand, plus a full set of gear. We’re all in the low-level zone; who knows, we might meet in mission worlds. Consider it making a friend.”

Wang Ling rolled his eyes at the sweet talk—he had no intention of befriending the so-called famous George Gold. Besides, the free market was protected by dream space, shrouded in mist; change clothes outside and no one would recognize him—though George’s heavy armor and sword were distinctive.

Nearby stall owners overheard the bargaining and came over. After checking the data, one said, “Twenty thousand, and you can pick any two items from my stall.”

Wang Ling saw the stall mostly had E-level white gear; the only D-level blue item wasn’t great. He refused flatly. George and the stall owner grew frustrated, wishing they could beat him up, but in dream space, attacking others was impossible—they could only stew.

George calculated that if more people learned about the mushroom, competitive bidding would drive the price up. In his judgment, the extra life mushroom was far inferior to the Life Reward Mold, but in the beginner zone, it could fetch thirty to fifty thousand. If it reached the intermediate zone, it might sell for seventy or eighty thousand! If he bought it, he’d gain an extra safety net for future main missions, and could resell it at a profit.

“Thirty thousand,” George gritted his teeth. “My bottom line—very fair! You’re still a kid; don’t be too greedy.”

Wang Ling still refused.

More dreamers gathered, crowding the small stall three layers deep. Many wanted to buy, but the highest offer was thirty-five thousand. Some tried to trade; one offered a rare red elite gear—a two-handed sword with decent stats, but Wang Ling needed currency points most.

No matter who approached, he insisted: one hundred thousand, not a bit less.

An hour later, Wang Ling closed his stall; the mushroom, of course, had not been sold. He didn’t mind—smiling, he told the crowd, “I’ll be back at this time tomorrow.”

After saying this, to avoid being followed, he teleported out of the free market, appearing in the entry plaza—the camouflage mist vanished. Cautiously, Wang Ling returned to his private room, bought a new outfit—denim shorts and a white shirt—changed, and went out to explore other areas of the low-level public zone.

After some investigation, Wang Ling learned that the arena was where dreamers settled grudges in duels or brawls. The training hall, as its name implied, was for training; for a modest fee, one could use exercise facilities and even buy puppet sparring partners.

The entertainment district was a large area—dreamers couldn’t return to the real world and fought desperately in main missions. In the seven-day interval, they naturally needed to relax and party to relieve stress.

The district included taverns, restaurants, inns, casinos, and even a red-light area… The women working there were dreamers themselves. In the low-level dream space, there were about five thousand dreamers, with a male-to-female ratio of roughly three to one. Among the women, many were willing to exchange their bodies for currency points, gear, or items. Moreover, with the uncertainty of the next mission’s survival, many chose to indulge.

To relieve spiritual tension, sex, drugs, and alcohol were the most effective means.

Wang Ling had no interest in the red-light district, nor did he gamble, and he wasn’t accompanied by a little girl to book a room at the inn.

Feeling hungry, and after comparing taverns and restaurants, Wang Ling chose a tavern. They wouldn’t serve much food, but taverns were natural gathering places. With people drunk, information was easier to obtain.

He picked a place called “Fairy Bar.” As he approached, he heard laughter and cheers from within. Pushing open the two oak plank doors, he entered and found the bar small yet packed—over fifty people crowded around large square tables, empty glasses and plates littering the surfaces; everyone had clearly drunk a lot.

To his surprise, two young women with striking looks and fiery figures were dancing in the central dance floor, shaking their hips in a lively striptease!