Samsara Paradise: Dream Weaver of Connections.

"Separating to search will be more efficient."

Gulu nodded, and with a swift movement, entered a more crowded side passage, where he was instantly swallowed up by the surging crowd.

Lin Yi continued walking unhurriedly along the main passage. The brightly colored, even slightly exaggerated and comical Calabash Brothers mask on his face did not seem out of place in this extremely chaotic environment—here, normalcy was the greatest anomaly.

Looking around, all I could see were people trying their best to hide themselves.

Here, hiding is an instinct, and also a survival declaration, proclaiming that you don't want to cause trouble, and asking that you please don't come looking for me.

Those who dared to openly reveal their true selves went to two extremes.

They are either powerful individuals whose strength is so great that they can ignore any potential threats, or they are walking corpses who have been wallowing in the mud at the bottom for many years and have nothing left to lose but their wretched lives.

His gaze seemed to casually sweep over the stalls on both sides, like that of an ordinary tourist taking a cursory look around.

Information flowed into his mind like a stream, and Lin Yi quickly processed and categorized it.

In this black market, basic survival supplies are indeed not scarce.

He happened to witness a transaction in front of a stall piled high with canned synthetic meat, compressed grain bricks, and water.

A man with a hideous scar on his face and a fierce aura like a vulture, with a half-smoked cheap cigarette dangling from his mouth, was rudely directing several of his men to carry several heavy-looking metal boxes with unidentified markings onto a rusty, makeshift cart provided by the stall owner.

The stall owner was a bald man so fat that his neck was almost invisible, with a thick layer of oily sweat covering his shiny scalp and broad cheeks.

A thick, exaggeratedly large gold chain of questionable color hung heavily on his bulging neck.

"Checked. Three hundred standard unit batteries, plus two 'degraded crystal cores.' This batch is yours."

The portly stall owner chuckled, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. He weighed the two crystal cores in his hand, which emitted a faint, murky glow, and nodded in satisfaction. "Pleasant cooperation, Boss Barton. Next time you need 'fuel' or 'parts,' come find me, Old Karl!"

Lin Yi walked past expressionlessly; this level of transaction and supplies meant nothing to him.

He continued on his way and saw someone trade a few well-preserved old mechanical watches for a box of antibiotics; someone argued with a stall owner until they were red in the face for a small implant that could slightly improve nerve reaction speed, and finally gritted their teeth and paid for an energy core the size of a fist; and someone was mysteriously trading something that emitted radiation pollution and was packaged in a lead box.

The price system here is chaotic yet operates on its own brutal logic, with barter and several hard currencies operating in parallel. The value of goods depends entirely on their scarcity and current demand, with no discernible pattern.

Finally, Lin Yi stopped in front of a relatively quiet corner stall.

This stall sells a wide variety of items, from rusted sword fragments and unrecognizable lumps of metal to strange minerals emitting faint energy fluctuations and biological samples in special containers, all laid out on a thick canvas whose color is indiscernible.

The stall owner was a thin man, huddled in a dilapidated metal folding chair, wearing several layers of greasy, shiny clothes, with a tattered cloth covering his mouth and nose, revealing only a pair of eyes with heavy dark circles.

He held an old tablet device with a cracked corner in his hand, staring intently at it. Judging from the occasional gasps and soft groans emanating from the edge of the device, the content playing inside was self-evident.

Lin Yi's approach didn't elicit any reaction from him. It wasn't until Lin Yi's fingers touched the dark metal plate on the stall that the stall owner lazily raised his eyelids, glanced at him, his gaze lingering on the Calabash Brothers mask on Lin Yi's face for half a second before indifferently returning to the tablet screen emitting an ambiguous glow. He muttered in a hoarse, indistinct voice, "Look for yourself... the price is marked... don't touch it if you're not buying, if you break it... hehe, you can't afford to pay for it. No returns or exchanges after sale, I'm not running a charity."

Lin Yi picked up the metal piece, and the amusement park's notification instantly appeared: [Unknown Alloy Fragment (Quality: Green)].

He then casually picked up a strangely shaped, pale dagger that looked like it had been polished from the sharp mouthparts of some kind of giant insect. It was cold to the touch and carried a faint, almost imperceptible, fishy smell.

The Corroded Fang Dagger (Quality: Blue) has a slight acid corrosion effect, but its durability is extremely low. It may be completely destroyed after a few full-force slashes.

Another unassuming, rusty little box contained a few shriveled seeds: [Withered Nightmare Vine Seeds (Quality: Pale Gold)].

The panel display has lost its activity, but the material itself still appears to have value.

The quality of the items at this stall varied greatly, ranging from junk to pale gold materials. However, the vast majority of them were either unidentifiable fragments, had serious usage restrictions, or were already damaged. The entire stall was like a recycling center that collected all sorts of strange junk.

Truly intact, high-quality items would obviously not be found in such an abandoned, open corner, left for anyone to rummage through.

Setting down the seed box, Lin Yi looked up at the stall owner, who was still engrossed in the world on the screen, and asked in a steady voice, "Do you have any dream entry devices in stock?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the stall owner's finger, which was swiping the screen, suddenly stopped.

He slowly raised his head, this time completely shifting his gaze from the tablet screen. A hint of surprise and scrutiny flashed in his cloudy eyes as he looked Lin Yi up and down, his tone tinged with wariness: "Dream device? Heh... friend, you've come to the wrong place. Do you think I'd have that kind of stuff? If I really had that treasure, would I be holed up in this stinky corner that even ghosts wouldn't bother with, watching this piece of junk to pass the time?"

He waved the tablet in his hand: "Go away, if you're not going to buy anything good, then get the hell out of here. Don't fucking cause trouble and delay my... learning of new technologies."

The stall owner's reaction was within Lin Yi's expectations. In this Sleeping City, which relies on the power of dreams to operate, the dream device is obviously a strictly controlled strategic resource. It is almost certain to be firmly monopolized by the few largest forces, and there is very little possibility of it circulating in the market.

Even if one or two items occasionally leak out, it will inevitably come at an extremely high cost.

Such a vendor, huddled in the lowest corner of the black market and making a living by selling junk of dubious origin, theoretically could not possibly possess, and should not even know, much relevant information. His denial is an instinctive act of self-preservation.

Lin Yi did not turn and leave as the other party wished. He simply stood there silently, his gaze calmly falling on the stall owner beneath his mask. Then, his hand slowly reached into the inside pocket of his coat.

This seemingly ordinary action caused the stall owner to subconsciously tense his thin body, and his curled-up posture instantly became aggressive.

He had already silently reached his lower back with one hand, where there was a bulge, as if he were carrying something deadly.

But what Lin Yi pulled out was not any type of weapon, but merely a carefully hand-rolled cigarette.

The paper roll is clean and crisp, and the tobacco shreds are golden and full-bodied with a slight oiliness. Just by being exposed to the air, it begins to emit a mellow and rich aroma of high-end tobacco with exotic nutty and spicy notes.

The aroma was so pure, so different from the murky smell of cheap tobacco, strange chemical flavorings, and rotten substances that permeated the black market. It was like an aristocrat who had stumbled into a slum, with an incongruous sense of refinement and allure.

The moment the vendor saw the cigarette, his pupils involuntarily contracted slightly, and his hand, which was reaching for the weapon at his lower back, stopped abruptly halfway.

His throat bobbed uncontrollably as he swallowed hard, his dry lips pursing unconsciously. His previously aloof and fierce demeanor softened visibly, like a balloon punctured by a fine needle.

Lin Yi took in his subtle reactions. His choice to stop at this stall was not random.

Before he even got close, he had already noticed with his extraordinary observational skills that there were several hand-rolled cigarette butts scattered around the stall owner's feet. The cigarette paper was rough and yellowish, and the tobacco was a mess of black and yellow. It was obvious that the lowest quality tobacco and scraps had been used, and it was even possible that other plant leaves had been mixed in to increase the weight.

Even so, 99% of people absolutely cannot afford tobacco, a luxury.

For explorers who constantly teeter on the edge of nightmares, high-quality tobacco is sometimes worth far more than an equal weight of food and water. It is a precious anesthetic that temporarily numbs the nerves and combats fear and despair; it is the hardest currency among hard currencies.

"Want to chat?" Lin Yi handed over the cigarette in his hand, which looked like a work of art, as if he were offering up an ordinary pebble.

The stall owner stared at the cigarette that was so close to him, hesitated for less than half a second, then almost snatched it away, skillfully brought it to his nose and took a deep breath, a slightly intoxicated expression on his face, all his previous wariness and sarcasm gone.

He glanced around quickly, like a mouse stealing oil, making sure no one in the bustling crowd was paying attention to this dimly lit corner before relaxing slightly: "...Damn! This is really good stuff! Where did you get it?"

He didn't light it immediately, but held it carefully in his hand, his attitude having completely changed.

"The source is not important." Lin Yi avoided answering his question, repeating his previous request, "Can you answer my question?"

The stall owner licked his dry, chapped lips, his gaze sweeping over Lin Yi's entire body again, from the comical mask to the seemingly ordinary yet well-made coat, as if trying to assess Lin Yi's background and capabilities.

A person who can casually produce cigarettes of this quality is no ordinary person; they must either have an unfathomable background or be incredibly powerful.

He paused for a moment, his thin fingers unconsciously twirling the precious cigarette, as if he were rapidly weighing the pros and cons, calculating the risks and rewards.

Ultimately, the craving for tobacco completely prevailed.

He pulled out a rusty metal lighter, lit a cigarette with a click, and took a greedy deep drag. As the smoke filled his lungs, he closed his eyes, a look of extreme relief and relaxation on his face, as if all the pent-up fatigue and tension were slowly exhaled with that puff of smoke.

After a few puffs of his cigarette, even Lin Yi could clearly feel that the violent aura emanating from the other party had lessened considerably.

For members of major factions who frequently need to enter dangerous areas, this is a form of hard currency comparable to military supplies.

The stall owner coughed violently twice, seemingly choked by the overly thick and pure smoke, but his coughs were filled with immense satisfaction.

He exhaled a long puff of smoke, lowering his voice as he looked at Lin Yi: "You... really want to buy that thing? Judging from your demeanor, you don't seem like one of those shabby gangs that can't even afford to eat. Which gang are you from? What do you need that thing for?"

His questions still carried a probing tone, but his tone was no longer interrogative; it was more like a reminder.

Lin Yi's act of taking out a cigarette has indirectly proven that he is neither an ignorant fat sheep nor a desperate fugitive.

“We can’t go back to the old place, we need a new one.” Lin Yi succinctly gave a reason that was reasonable and common enough in the black market environment—a failed fugitive under the power struggle, an ambitious person seeking new support or trying to establish their own independent entity, a traitor being hunted down by the original organization, or even a wanderer who has lost their dream-entry device… Such stories are repeated every day in the City of Sleep and in any black market. They are the identity labels that require the least explanation and are the easiest to accept.

Upon hearing this, the stall owner's face showed a knowing expression, and he indeed did not delve into the specific details.

In the black market, a place teeming with all sorts of people, it's a big no-no to pry into other people's backgrounds and enemies, especially when the other party seems formidable and has offered you a huge benefit.

The more you know, the faster you die; this is the ironclad rule for survival at the bottom of society.

“I understand… Brother, are you new to the North District? Looking for connections? Why don’t you just ask ‘Old Smoker’ directly? Why go through all this trouble?”

He clearly realized that Lin Yi's offer to buy the dream-entering device was a pretense; his real purpose was probably to find out about "Old Smoker," the person who controlled the relevant gray channels.

In this area, only that guy dared to secretly handle such contraband.

Lin Yi didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly, tacitly agreeing with his guess.

The stall owner took another satisfying and precious puff. As the precious cigarette was about to burn down to the butt, a clear look of heartache and reluctance appeared on his face. He took the last two puffs with all his might until the cigarette butt was slightly charred and blackened. Only then did he reluctantly throw the short cigarette butt on the ground and immediately crush it carefully with the sole of his foot. He even subconsciously poked at it with his toe to make sure that not a single bit of the precious tobacco was wasted.

After doing all this, he licked his lips, seemingly still savoring the rich aroma of the tobacco, before leaning closer and whispering, "Brother, for the sake of this good cigarette, take my advice. 'Old smoker' stuff... you can't touch it."

He glanced around, a hint of apprehension in his eyes: "That old guy has a really weird background! I heard he used to be a handyman at some secret research institute under the 'Salvation Army,' but then he did something wrong, or found out something he shouldn't have, and got a severe beating and kicked out like trash. He's lucky to have survived. Even though he's gone, who the hell knows if he still has any deadly connections behind the scenes? This black market is a murky place. Everyone has to give those uniformed guys from the 'Salvation Army' some face on the surface, so nobody dares to really go after him, lest they get themselves into trouble."

"But all those dream-entering devices he sells have been tampered with! I heard they have hidden doors inside, either for location tracking, remote locking, or even overload to burn out the user's brain in critical situations. Who with even a little bit of connections would dare use his stuff? Only trash would scrape together money to buy his nearly obsolete, substandard products, using them one last time and hoping they die."

Lin Yi listened quietly, his face masked, making his expression unreadable.

After the stall owner finished speaking, he reached into his pocket again and this time took out the remaining half pack of cigarettes and stuffed it into the pocket of the stall owner's greasy coat with a natural and quick motion.

The stall owner froze, instinctively pressing his hand to his pocket. Feeling the solid outline of the half-pack of cigarettes inside, his breathing instantly became heavier.

He looked at Lin Yi with a complex expression, a mixture of surprise, greed, and a deeper sense of apprehension—the other party was being far too generous; this level of reward far exceeded the usual value of a message.

Hesitation and warnings crumbled quickly in the face of absolute profit. He swallowed hard, his thin fingers gripping the cigarette pack in his pocket tightly, as if afraid it would fly away.

Like a startled rabbit, the stall owner quickly and warily scanned his surroundings. After confirming that no one was watching them with ill intent, he swiftly bent down and rummaged through the bottom of his messy stall for a rough, dark wooden sign that looked like it had been casually broken off from some board, then stuffed it into Lin Yi's hand.

The wooden plaque felt slightly cool to the touch and had a rough texture. The front was engraved with the numbers "894," while the back was engraved with a simple yet somewhat eerie eyeball pattern.

“Take this.” The stall owner’s voice was very low and his speech was very fast. “Go to stall number 894 at the very back of the ‘general merchandise’ section. Just say that ‘Fisherman’ referred you. He occasionally has ‘clean’ goods there, but the prices are outrageously high, so high that they can bankrupt you. But the stuff is genuine, and the quality and safety are incomparable to those rip-off junk items from ‘Old Smoker’.”

After saying this, he immediately retreated into his folding chair, picked up the tablet again, and swiped it haphazardly. The screen light reflected his somewhat flustered eyes as he muttered, trying to appear calm, "Hurry up, hurry up, don't delay my business... Damn it, today is truly bizarre..."

He didn't look at Lin Yi again, as if their conversation had never happened. (End of Chapter)