The Transaction

Their commotion drew the gazes of several onlookers. "What's going on over there?" "Looks like an arm-wrestling match!" "How'd that start?" "Look, that lad claimed he cultivates Iron Shirt, but the big fellow didn't believe him. So they got into an argument." "Him?! Looking so frail and lean? If it were me, I wouldn't believe it either!" "Come on, let's go see." ... Five or six people gathered around the boulder, chattering among themselves as they watched the spectacle. Both set their elbows in place. The bearded man's hairy, massive hand gripped Chen Ping'an's fair, tender hand. "Don't blame me if I snap your arm." "Snap it if you can!" Chen Ping'an replied. Seeing the crowd gather, the bearded man chuckled smugly. "I won't take advantage of you. Go ahead—you call the start!" "Gentlemen, please bear witness," Chen Ping'an said, glancing at the bystanders gathered around. "If I win, this bearded fellow buys my Iron Shirt manual for ten taels of silver. If I lose, I will pay him one tael." "One tael of silver for free," the bearded burly man sneered with a grin. "Come on, kid, I'm ready." "Fine. Then... start!" With that, Chen Ping'an abruptly threw his strength into his arm. Since this involved selling the Iron Shirt manual and deterring any opportunistic scoundrels, he held nothing back. In an instant, the bearded man felt an immense surge of power coming from his opponent's arm. The sneer on his face vanished, impossible to maintain. Muscles bulged high along his thick arm, and veins pulsed violently beneath his skin. Bang! The back of the bearded man's hand slammed against the rock. "You lost," Chen Ping'an said calmly. The bearded man's face flushed crimson. No matter how thickheaded he might be, he now realized that this youth was far from the simple boy he appeared to be. He was a true cultivator who had entered the martial path! And his level was higher than his own! Was it qi and blood first layer, perfected?! Or perhaps the qi and blood second layer?! Such a dramatic outcome set the onlookers clamoring. "He actually won!" "That big fellow kicked an iron plate this time." "Entering the martial path—he's definitely entered the martial path!" ... Chen Ping'an ignored the clamor. Standing up, he looked calmly at the bearded man. "Ten taels of silver! Iron Shirt—payment in one hand, goods in the other." "Fine. You beat me in strength, so I believe your Iron Shirt technique is genuine! But..." The bearded man stood up. His burly frame held explosive power, exuding an imposing sense of pressure. "Ten taels of silver is too expensive! Six taels! Six taels at most, and I'll buy it!" His counteroffer drew a chorus of boos from the onlookers. However, the black market was the black market after all, and most people here were cautious. Only six or seven individuals had actually gathered to watch the commotion. The bearded man paid no heed to the jeers, keeping his eyes fixed on Chen Ping'an. Ten taels of silver was indeed not expensive if one were buying an Iron Shirt manual from the Treasure Pavilion in the commandery city. Yet for a handwritten transcript of uncertain authenticity, that was hardly cheap! Six taels! That was a much more reasonable market price. No one operating in this black market was a fool. It was impossible that someone would fork over several extra taels of silver simply because of a bet. In fact, even if the bearded man reneged on the bet and simply walked away, Chen Ping'an would have had no real recourse in the black market. After all, their wager was merely an informal dispute between the two of them. If pushed into the open, it carried no binding weight. Chen Ping'an clearly understood this as well. Besides, ten taels of silver was just a number he had tossed out casually. His true objective was simply to sell the Iron Shirt manual. Commerce was naturally a dance of the seller hiking the price and the buyer driving it down. Chen Ping'an's gaze grew deep and boundless like an ocean. He stared at the bearded man for a good while, until the man began to feel uneasy. This kid was a bit eerie. He looked frail, but his strength far exceeded his own. To have entered the martial path and cultivated a hard-body technique while retaining such a physique... he must have cultivated some other superior technique as well. "Very well, six taels it is. Consider it the price of making a friend," Chen Ping'an spoke up at just the right moment. "Good! Straightforward!" Hearing this, the bearded man reached into his robes, pulled out a cloth pouch, and retrieved several pieces of broken silver. Payment in one hand, goods in the other. The moment the silver touched his palm, Chen Ping'an's eyes lit up. Done! With the family's earlier savings, the monthly stipend he had received not long ago, and these six taels of silver, he had enough to clear tomorrow's fourteen-tael debt. Once the transaction was settled, neither the bearded man nor Chen Ping'an lingered; both departed swiftly. "That lad looked so scrawny, who would've thought he had such immense strength! A burly man like that, forced down just like that!" "You can't judge a book by its cover, just as you can't measure the sea with a bushel!" ... A few of the onlookers remarked with admiration. None of this mattered to Chen Ping'an, however. Having achieved his objective, he felt lighthearted and pleased. As he left the black market, the burly gatekeeper was still standing there expressionlessly. "Once outside the black market, safety is not guaranteed. You bear all risks yourself." Chen Ping'an subtly glanced at the broadsword hanging at the man's waist and nodded slightly. A single man stationed at the black market entrance—his martial cultivation was likely extraordinary. Qi and blood first layer, perfected? Or qi and blood second layer?! As for qi and blood second layer, perfected, or even qi and blood third layer, that was improbable. Someone who reached such heights in martial arts would not be guarding a doorway here. A martial cultivator of that caliber would be employed as a guard in a genuine aristocratic clan. Against such great clans, even the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office could only look up in reverence. A mere black market in Nanquan Lane wouldn't warrant someone like that! I wonder, if I traded blows with him, how many rounds could I last? Chen Ping'an pondered privately. After leaving the black market, Chen Ping'an was exceedingly cautious, looking back from time to time. He had heard plenty of rumors about the black market: predators stalking targets from behind to rob and murder them, or secretly tracking someone home to slaughter their entire family. Knowing all this, Chen Ping'an naturally exercised extreme vigilance. This was also why he had waited until he attained lesser mastery in Iron Shirt and reached qi and blood first layer, perfected, before coming to the black market. He deliberately took a long, circuitous route before leisurely making his way back home. It seemed his luck had held today; no one had set their sights on him. The walls of Chen Ping'an's courtyard were not high, and the gate had already been barred by Chen Er Ya. After a moment's thought, he decided to simply vault over the wall. To a cultivator who had entered the martial path, a courtyard wall like his was practically an ornament. In fact, one didn't even need to be a martial practitioner—any petty thief with a bit of skill could easily scale it. He had never paid it much attention in the past; after all, living within Weishui Commandery City was relatively safe at night. Yet reflecting on it now, a fleeting thought of moving houses surfaced in his mind. However, it was merely a fleeting thought, and was swiftly dismissed. Given his current situation, moving to a new residence was nothing short of a pipe dream. Living in the commandery city was no easy feat. Even in the outer city, a slightly better courtyard easily cost one or two hundred taels of silver. With his pitiful monthly stipend, buying a new courtyard was purely a daydream. But... Recalling that wondrous, unfathomable golden finger, an endless sense of anticipation welled within him after all. The monthly stipend of an unregistered runner was indeed pitifully meager. But what about a registered runner?! What about a head runner, or an office chief?! Learn to be friends with time, and one day, he would step into a new, magnificent realm. When the roc rises on the wind one day, it will soar ninety thousand li straight into the sky!