Not a Blade of Grass Grows

Song Demei looked at Liang Chongde standing before her and asked, "You just said you killed that thieving bastard?" Liang Chongde kept his head bowed. "I tried to persuade him to come back to the village with me, but he wouldn't listen. So, following your orders, I..." Song Demei gave a faint smile. "Well done. That little bastard deserved to die." Keeping his head down, Liang Chongde immediately felt a great weight lift from his heart. Her second son, Yue Congde, however, couldn't fathom what she was trying to pull. "Mother, now that you've had Tang Xinde killed, can we really expect that foreigner to let this go?" Song Demei glanced sideways at him. "Did you ever expect him to let things go?" Her second son had spoken very little lately, and whenever he did, he constantly watched other people's reactions. She knew the man standing before her was not truly her second son, but she never exposed it, because this current version brought her quite a few practical benefits. Song Demei had made a move against Xiao De because she refused to let the stalemate drag on. She wanted to drive Critic mad. If Critic didn't make a move soon, she herself was about to break. Just yesterday, Song Demei had received word that Li Qi had delivered a shipment of grain to Desong Cliff. Critic threatening Desong Cliff with a plague—that, Song Demei could endure. Li Qi sending away the disciples of the major gangs—that, Song Demei could also endure. Even Li Qi killing one of her sons was something she could swallow. Yet Li Qi providing relief grain to Desong Cliff was something Song Demei could not bear. She knew the temperament of Virtue Cultivators all too well. If that grain actually reached Desong Cliff and the cultivators no longer had to worry about food and drink, few would remain willing to fight beside her. This soft nail pierced straight into her heart, hurting so fiercely she could barely breathe. If they continued grinding away in this war of attrition against Critic, Desong Cliff's fighting spirit would wither away, and everything she had done before would vanish like smoke. That was why she decided to take a desperate gamble. If she led men up the mountain to besiege Critic, it would be difficult to explain away should the Peddler hold her accountable afterward. So she had sent Liang Chongde up the mountain, intending to trick Tang Dexin into coming to the village, thus forcing Critic down into the village for a fight. She had chosen Liang Chongde because the boy was loyal, and she had wagered that Critic wouldn't be as guarded around a child. She had deliberately given Liang Chongde a Travel Cultivator treasure. As soon as he activated it, it would whisk him straight back to Deyuan Village, just like being hit with a Travel Cultivator's Parting by Ten Thousand Li technique. And now that Liang Chongde had killed Tang Dexin, Song Demei considered the outcome good enough. "Now that the little bastard is dead, let us see whether that foreigner dares to come risk his life." Yue Congde shook his head. "Mother, what if he really comes ready to fight to the death? What do we do?" Song Demei asked, "Are you afraid of him?" Yue Congde nodded. "Of course I am! He's a disciple of Lühuazi!" Song Demei gave a cold sneer. "Go summon every man, woman, and child on Desong Cliff. We'll let him kill as he pleases—let's see just how many he dares to slaughter!" Yue Congde found her thinking increasingly baffling. "Mother, that foreign devil is Lühuazi's disciple. The more people there are, the faster the plague spreads. Aren't we just offering our heads on a platter?" Not wanting to speak too harshly, Song Demei curbed her temper and explained, "Do you know why that foreigner came to Desong Cliff?" Yue Congde blinked. "I've heard it was the Peddler who sent him." Song Demei asked again, "Since he's Lühuazi's disciple, why would the Peddler let him out to harm people?" Yue Congde shook his head; this was something he genuinely didn't know. Song Demei said, "I looked into this long ago. The Peddler wants him to get things done, but forbids him from slaughtering the innocent. If he kills too many people, he breaks the Peddler's rules. That is why, for all this time, he hasn't dared to spread the plague through the villages!" Hearing Song Demei's explanation, Yue Congde finally grasped her intentions. She had seized on Critic's vulnerability—the fact that he couldn't kill indiscriminately. By gathering all the men, women, and children and placing them before Critic, she would force his hand. If Critic went on a killing spree, he was bound to infuriate the Peddler, and Critic would have to flee Desong Cliff to avoid punishment. If Critic hesitated and didn't dare to strike, Song Demei would unleash a lethal assault, driving him away if possible, or beating him to death if not! Since he was the one who had come into the village to commit violence first, Song Demei would have an excuse even if the Peddler came to place blame. This desperate gambit would not only push Critic into a corner with no retreat, but it would also unite Desong Cliff in shared hatred. That shared hatred was the most important thing to Song Demei. In her eyes, if these Virtue Cultivators weren't willing to fight for her, they might as well be sent to die. "What are you standing there for? Go call them!" Yue Congde hurried off to rally the villagers. According to Song Demei's plan, the more people he summoned, the greater their chances of victory. The second son was indeed efficient. Before long, he had gathered all the prominent figures from the neighboring villages. Song Demei shouted to the crowd, "That evil foreign fiend has finally shown his true colors, seeking a fight to the death with us! How can our Desong Cliff endure such humiliation? Friends, as long as we today..." Before she could finish, her eldest son, Yue Xingde, came sprinting over, shouting, "Mother, that foreign devil has gone mad! He's brought a whole horde of daolao ghosts into the village!" Song Demei's expression remained calm; this had all been within her calculations. "Don't fear him! Send the elderly and the children to surround him first. Let's see if he dares lay a hand on them!" Yue Xingde couldn't quite explain the current situation. "Several village elders went up to reason with him. Before they could say more than two sentences, they broke out in rashes all over. As soon as the rash appeared, they couldn't move!" "What kind of rash?" Song Demei had dealt with Lühuazi in the past and knew which colors of rash were the deadliest. Yue Xingde tried to think of how to describe it. "The color was strange... It looked like it was black..." "A black rash?" The old woman had never seen such a thing. "Are you sure you didn't see wrong?" Just as Yue Xingde was about to speak, his cheekbone suddenly itched. He raised a hand and scratched it twice. With that scratch, his cheek swelled up, and a pustule the size of a pinky tip sprouted from the bone. He had been right before: the rash was black. Beneath the translucent skin was a pool of black fluid, with several floating red specks inside. Yue Xingde touched his cheek, trembling all over. The old woman immediately drew back to put distance between herself and her eldest son. She looked at Liang Chongde, then glanced back at her eldest son. "That foreigner dares not slaughter the innocent." The eldest son understood her meaning instantly. Critic didn't dare kill the innocent. If they handed over someone who wasn't innocent, Song Demei would hold the moral high ground. Not only could she suppress Critic using Virtue Cultivator techniques, but when the Peddler questioned them later, it would also serve as proof that they were in the right. The eldest son stepped forward and bound Liang Chongde. Liang Chongde wept in terror. "I was only following orders! He wouldn't come with me, so I had to kill him..." The eldest son gave him no further chance to speak, stuffing a cloth into his mouth, and led a group of men toward the western entrance of the village. Song Demei instructed the second son, "Send out all your men. Keep gathering people from the other villages." "Mother, that foreign devil has lost his mind. I'm afraid nobody will dare come to our village." Song Demei remained full of confidence. "A hefty reward always draws brave souls. When you call them, tell them that whoever shows up today will receive a silver dollar!" The second son hurried off to summon people. Meanwhile, the eldest son escorted Liang Chongde to the western village entrance, encountering Critic on the archway road. "Every grievance has its source, and every debt has its debtor. I've brought you the murderer, and today he's yours to deal with!" The eldest son shoved Liang Chongde toward Critic. Critic pulled the cloth from Liang Chongde's mouth and asked, "Who ordered you to do it?" Liang Chongde wept, "It was Song Demei, it was her..." Yue Xingde shouted, "You little beast! A man answers for what he does! What did my mother tell you, and what did you actually do? How dare you bite back wildly here? Our Desong Cliff does not produce vermin like you! Look into your conscience before you speak—don't ruin the reputation of our Virtue Cultivators just because you're a coward afraid to die!" The eldest son used a Virtue Cultivator technique, his words ringing out with righteous power. Yet Critic didn't listen to a single word. He brushed right past Liang Chongde and continued walking toward the eldest son. Liang Chongde glanced back at him. The boy's face was completely covered in black pustules that grew at a terrifying speed, warping his features out of alignment. The rash took hold with vicious ferocity. With every new red speck that appeared in the village, it felt as if steel needles were boring through his flesh and blood. "Spare me, I was wrong! I didn't want to kill him, I was following orders..." Liang Chongde continued to beg, but Critic didn't spare him a second glance. Retreating step by step, the eldest son shouted, "We don't want to fight you! This matter had nothing to do with us! If you kill the innocent here, you're defying the Peddler's orders! If you dare lay a hand on us, the Peddler will never forgive you..." The eldest son's voice grew fainter and fainter. More and more pustules spread across his face, and between breaths, his mouth filled with sores. He could no longer speak, nor could he walk. He slumped down against the archway, his entire body collapsing into a heap on the ground like a lump of mud. He was still alive, and his eyes could still move. Critic walked steadily into the village as an increasing number of onlookers gathered around him. None dared approach him; they only dared point and whisper from a distance. "What do you want with us? Go find whoever did it!" "We never offended you—aren't you just bullying honest folk...?" Their voices were fainter than the buzzing of mosquitoes. The second son, Yue Congde, shouted from the side, "Louder! Speak up! Make sure that foreign devil hears you!" They were using the Virtue Cultivator technique, Emulating the Virtuous. Yue Congde hoped they could use the technique to temporarily suppress Critic, but it seemed utterly pointless. It didn't matter how loud their voices were; Critic couldn't hear them. Rashes erupted across the faces of the Virtue Cultivators one after another. Like the eldest son, every last one of them turned into a pile of living mud, slumped upon the earth. Critic fought his way all the way to the estate compound. Having killed so many people, Critic would certainly have no excuse before the Peddler. Song Demei judged that the moment had arrived. Flanked by her subordinates, she stepped out from the courtyard. "Foreign villain! A life for a life—we already handed over the culprit, so what more do you want? Do you intend to exterminate all of Desong Cliff?!" With an expressionless face, Critic walked toward Song Demei. He showed not the slightest hesitation or inner struggle, which was entirely different from what Song Demei had envisioned. Seeing that verbal suppression had no effect, Song Demei resolved to fight him directly. A Virtue Cultivator fighting a Disease Cultivator head-on was naturally at a disadvantage, but Song Demei was, after all, a cultivator above the clouds, and she wielded her arts with supreme mastery. She opened with Broad Virtue Holds All, pressing the weight down upon Critic. She had expected Critic to dodge, but he didn't even try. Taking the full brunt of the blow, he stumbled and crashed directly to the ground. Has this foreigner lost his mind? If he has lost his mind, he'll be even easier to handle! Song Demei looked down at Critic. "Let today's matter end here. Seeing that you acted out of temporary confusion, I won't hold it against you. Quickly remove the sickness from the villagers and leave Desong Cliff at once. Even if the Peddler seeks to punish you, I can still put in a few good words on your behalf..." Under the crushing weight of Broad Virtue Holds All, Critic dragged himself up from the ground. The bones in his body popped and cracked; from the sound of it, several had snapped clean through. Yet there was no expression on his face as he continued walking toward Song Demei. Terrified of contracting the disease, Song Demei tried her best to maintain her distance. She poured more force into the technique, hoping to force Critic to back down. Critic offered no countermeasure at all, continuing to endure the pressure with his bare frame, dragging his heavy footsteps as he crept closer to her. What is wrong with this foreigner? Has he completely abandoned his life? This suicidal fighting style caught Song Demei completely off guard, throwing her planned tactics into disarray. She still had many helpers at her side, but seeing Critic in this state, they were too terrified to advance. After a brief standoff, a dozen daolao ghosts suddenly swarmed Song Demei. She realized the situation was turning dire. Out of all her calculations, she had missed one single factor: if Critic truly didn't care about dying, how was she supposed to handle him? With even the Peddler's deterrent rendering him fearless, all her careful schemes were rendered meaningless. She wanted to fend off the daolao ghosts, but the moment her focus wavered, she couldn't suppress Critic. Should she push a bit harder, crush Critic to death, and settle for trading her life for his? No! The thought flashed through her mind and vanished an instant later. Staking the whole of Desong Cliff was something Song Demei had the guts and resolve to do. Staking her own life, however, was something she flatly refused to do. Fall back first, leave this place, and deal with him once the Peddler arrives. Song Demei wanted to flee, but Critic pressed forward relentlessly, granting her no opening. A daolao ghost swiped its claws toward her face. Song Demei barely managed to dodge, leaving a scratch across her cheek. Her heart went cold—the venom of a daolao ghost had no cure! Amidst her panic, Song Demei caught sight of black pustules on the daolao ghost's face. An itching sensation washed over her own cheek, and pustules began sprouting from her flesh. He can spread the disease through the daolao ghosts too?! Song Demei lost all will to fight. Since she had already contracted the affliction anyway, she dropped her technique entirely, relinquishing control over Critic, and turned on her heels to flee. Go ahead and kill, slaughter Deyuan Village as much as you like! When you've killed your fill, we'll talk terms. Heavily injured, Critic made no move to pursue her. Instead, he ordered the daolao ghosts around him to scatter and search every corner of the village. One daolao ghost threw its head back and unleashed a shrill, mournful howl, signaling the daolao ghosts in the other villages to disperse as well... *** Luo Zhengnan was still waiting at the train station for news regarding the grain when Li Qi's call suddenly came through: "Old Luo, call me back in one minute." To be honest, this maneuver was rather baffling, but Luo Zhengnan had grown used to it. A minute later, Old Luo found a secluded spot and dialed Li Qi's number. After waiting for a short while, Li Qi flew down beside him. Li Qi had originally wanted to run back to Desong Cliff, but he was worried he would arrive too late. So he had found a suitable person at Haichiling, paid the man a sum of money, and used Parting by Ten Thousand Li to send him to Kudaikan, while flying directly to Desong Cliff himself. Upon meeting, he asked Luo Zhengnan, "What happened at Desong Cliff?" Luo Zhengnan was taken aback. "Nothing happened. I've been waiting here for the grain..." As they were speaking, Luo Zhengnan's skull buzzed—a call was coming in from one of his subordinates. "Master Luo, it's bad! That foreigner has struck with a vengeance! The entire village has broken out in rashes, and our brothers got dragged into it too!" "What triggered it?" "From what I've heard, it seems something happened to that child." Li Banfeng was startled. "Xiao De? Which bastard did it?" Luo Zhengnan looked at Li Banfeng, his expression somewhat dazed. This had happened so abruptly that Old Luo didn't know how to handle it. After a moment of thought, Li Banfeng said, "Tell me where our people are. I'll go save them." "Seventh Master, I'm going with you!" "You're staying put. Wait for my word right here." *** Song Demei ran from Deyuan Village to Dexiao Village. Beneath the large tree at the village entrance sat a figure covered in rashes; several others sat along the village lane, also covered in pustules. Where had their infection come from? Two daolao ghosts emerged from a courtyard, silently watching Song Demei. It was they who had brought the disease. This foreigner has truly gone mad—he really intends to wipe out every last soul! With no heart left to fight, Song Demei rushed toward De'en Village. The situation in De'en Village was identical to that in Dexiao Village. Daolao ghosts roamed all the surrounding villages, and every single villager had broken out in pustules. At first, Song Demei was still able to slay a few daolao ghosts. But as her condition worsened, she grew drained of strength, losing even the ability to evade them. She fled to De'an Village—if she could just make it through this village, she would be out of Desong Cliff's borders. Yet two daolao ghosts blocked her path. She tried to slip past them, but her legs, covered in sores, refused to obey, and she tumbled face-first into the farmland. The daolao ghosts hoisted Song Demei up and carried her back to Deyuan Village. Song Demei still wanted to break free, but the overlapping layers of pustules across her body stripped her of any ability to fight the daolao ghosts. Dragging his gravely injured frame, Critic approached Song Demei step by step. Song Demei shrieked hoarsely, "I didn't kill him! It wasn't me! Spare my life, and Desong Cliff is all yours!" Critic asked without expression, "What would I want this place for?" Song Demei cried out, "There are other things! My second son, Yue Congde—he was never the real Yue Congde! He's someone else, a man from the Inner States! I'll tell you everything, just spare me!" *** Walking from De'an Village to Dexiao Village, Li Banfeng saw nothing along the way but people covered in black rashes and shimmering red specks. Some were still alive, while others had melted completely into heaps of mud. Those still living could not move, their bodies collapsed in heaps upon the ground just like living sludge. Such was the state of the entirety of Desong Cliff. Ignoring the Virtue Cultivators entirely, Li Banfeng memorized only the locations of his own men. Luo Zhengnan's subordinates and the people left behind by the Sand Snake Gang to assist were all still breathing. Along the way, rashes erupted on Li Banfeng's body several times; each time, he retreated into his companion dwelling and dissolved them using the Sleep Soundly Without Worry technique. Continuing all the way to the foot of Decheng Mountain, Li Banfeng found Critic. Together with the daolao ghosts, Critic had dug a grave and buried the child. "Hmph... hmph..." The daolao ghosts, unable to weep, let out low, raspy moans beside the burial mound. Standing by the graveside, Critic said to Li Banfeng, "When I first came to Desong Cliff, I actually thought of things very simply. I just wanted to kill everyone and let the Peddler do with me as he pleased. If the Peddler spared me, I would make a massive profit; if the Peddler killed me, at least I would have taken a giant step closer to my dream! "Yet when I reached the entrance to Deyuan Village, I saw him. He was being bullied and tormented by a mob. "I originally thought I shouldn't meddle, but I ended up meddling anyway. After taking him in, I wanted to find a different way to resolve this war. I wanted to avoid killing people as much as possible, because I felt that being alive was a wonderful thing. "How good it would have been if I had never met him in the first place... In the end, the outcome is just the same..." At this point, Critic let out a self-deprecating laugh. Li Banfeng asked, "Did that technique of yours succeed?" "Which technique do you mean?" "The one similar to a covenant, that only kills those who deserve to die." Critic, who had seemed relatively calm until now, fell silent for a long time. Suddenly, his composure shattered. He struggled to explain his technique to Li Banfeng: "That technique... the technique was called... 'Give Me Noodle Soup'... "Noodle soup... You know, the noodle soup I made. He loved eating it. That... technique... I can't learn it. I'll never be able to learn it again..." Critic seemed to have forgotten the language of Puluo Province, laboring over every single phrase. From the mouth of the cave, he picked up a tin can with a single wild flower growing inside. Cradling the tin can, he looked at Li Banfeng. "He was an angel. Even the daolao ghosts loved him so much. And yet, that group of the most virtuous people... they... they..." Critic's speech grew more labored, to the point where he could no longer string together a complete sentence. Li Banfeng said, "I reckon his soul hasn't wandered far yet. I have ways to bring him back to life." A glimmer of hope appeared in Critic's eyes. "Are you talking about... raising the dead?" The child's soul had indeed not departed far. He was sitting beneath the petals in the tin can, looking up, quietly gazing at Critic. Seeing Critic trembling constantly, the boy thought Critic was hungry or thirsty. Having no food, the boy wanted to catch a drop of dew to offer him. The child's soul was very weak; Critic could not sense it, and even Li Banfeng could only barely see it using the Golden Eyes of Keen Detail. Li Banfeng didn't know what power had kept the child's soul in the mortal realm, nor did he know whether his Fool cultivator technique could truly revive him. But he knew this was very different from what Critic understood as resurrection. "To be precise, if I succeed, he won't truly be alive after revival, nor will he be dead. You could consider him a living dead of sorts." The light in Critic's eyes dimmed. "You mean... something like a Nightmare Cultivator's ghost servant?" "More or less." Li Banfeng couldn't find a better analogy. Critic cradled the tin can, hesitating for a long time before shaking his head. "Don't let him suffer any more humiliation. Don't let him suffer any more torment. If there is reincarnation in life, let him enter a better cycle. If heaven truly exists, I am willing to go to heaven to find him." "What are you planning to do?" Li Banfeng turned to look at Critic. "The Peddler will be here soon. He won't spare me." Critic tucked the tin can into his coat. "My friend, you have quite a few subordinates who must have contracted the affliction as well. I will take you to cure them." Even at this point, Critic still regarded Li Qi as his friend. As the two walked along the road, they came across Song Demei slumped by the wayside. Song Demei had already turned into a heap of mud, with only her head remaining intact. She was still pleading, "Desong Cliff is yours! Spare me, everything is yours! I know where my second son is! I'll tell you, I'll take you to find him!" Li Banfeng looked down at her. "She isn't dead yet?" Critic replied, "Not so fast. She will hold out for a long time." "What about the others?" "Faster than her. Sooner or later, all of them will die—except for her second son, Yue Congde." Li Banfeng asked, "What's special about Yue Congde?" "According to Song Demei, the current Yue Congde is not the real one. He is from the Inner States. Song Demei knew his true identity, but she chose to play dumb. Yue Congde is a spy sent by the Inner States, and he gave Song Demei an enormous amount of aid, both financial and material. Otherwise, Song Demei never would have held out until today." Li Banfeng said, "Where did Yue Congde go? That man cannot be allowed to live." "He has already returned to the Inner States, carrying a gift from me to the Inner States." Critic squatted down as he spotted one of Luo Zhengnan's subordinates. He drew back the affliction, and the man's condition visibly improved. "In an hour, he will return to normal. The antibodies in his body will last for five hours. Have him leave Desong Cliff within those five hours." Li Banfeng gave his subordinate a few instructions, then moved on with Critic to find the next person. Critic glanced at Li Banfeng. "You don't have much of the affliction on you." "That's right. I have my own ways of dealing with it." Critic remarked, "Resisting this affliction is extraordinarily difficult. You are even stronger than I anticipated." Li Banfeng looked around and shook his head. "You are stronger than I anticipated, too. Desong Cliff isn't like Qianliangfang; the environment here isn't nearly as enclosed, yet you cleaned it out completely. What is this rash called? I've never seen you use it before." Critic replied, "It is called 'Not a Blade of Grass Grows.' It's a new technique I created. The people of Desong Cliff will rot here until they turn into sludge. "Under the influence of this affliction, anyone who comes here will be infected with pustules. Unless an infected person has their own means of purging the disease, they will never be able to leave Desong Cliff, and they, too, will rot into a part of Desong Cliff. "Unlike 'Corpses Strewn Everywhere,' the key element of this technique is not rapid spread, but persistence. The disease will remain here for many years, just like fungal spores. During that time, it will be difficult to find a single living creature on Desong Cliff." Li Banfeng noticed a blade of grass on the ground, its leaves covered in black specks. "Plants can be infected by this virus too?" "Yes. That is why it is called 'Not a Blade of Grass Grows.'" As Critic spoke these words, he remained completely calm, as though earnestly explaining a piece of academic knowledge. "What tier of technique is this?" Critic said, "A technique above the clouds. It might also be the last technique I ever create. "According to my agreement with the Peddler, if this operation succeeded, he was to grant me a territory to stabilize my status. "Now that things have turned out like this, any thought of a reward is out of the question. I will inevitably face the Peddler's severe punishment. The Disease Cultivator pathway may very well go extinct with me." Li Banfeng was astonished. "You've never had a territory? Then how did you ascend above the clouds?" "My ancestral master once promised me a territory, but that promise was never fulfilled. I used some ancient magic from my homeland, combined with certain unique properties of Sage Peak, to temporarily stabilize my status. "I've held out for a long time, but those spells have their limits, and my condition has grown increasingly unstable." The people of Desong Cliff weren't all dead yet; as long as Critic was willing to withdraw the disease, he could still save them, and perhaps there would still be room for negotiation with the Peddler. Yet Li Banfeng did not try to persuade Critic. He knew Critic would never let these Virtue Cultivators off the hook. After saving the men belonging to Luo Zhengnan and Sha Jianfeng, Critic escorted Li Banfeng all the way to the edge of Desong Cliff. He tucked the tin can deeper into his coat. "If one day you find my corpse, remember to take out this tin can and plant this flower beside my grave." With that, Critic gave a bow to Li Banfeng. "Wait a moment," Li Banfeng called out. He possessed many territories and wanted to hand one over to Critic so he could stabilize his status. Before Li Banfeng could speak, the rattle of a pellet drum rang out, and the figure of the Peddler appeared. Critic remained completely calm; he had no intention of running, nor did he intend to resist. "Things came a bit fast!" Critic smiled, pointing at his clothes. "My friend, do not forget the promise between us. Do not forget to help me plant the flower." The Peddler walked up before Critic and asked in a cold voice, "Killed them all?" "More or less." Critic nodded, though there were still many people on Desong Cliff who had not yet breathed their last. The Peddler let out a sigh. "Then you can't blame me." Critic shook his head placidly. "I don't blame anyone." Just as Li Banfeng was trying to think of how to dissuade the Peddler, the Peddler drew out a pair of covenant deeds and handed them to Critic. "I originally intended to give you a good territory, but since you've made such a mess of things, I'll just give you Desong Cliff." Critic froze. Li Banfeng was equally stunned. The Peddler glanced at Li Banfeng and snorted coldly. "Are you envious? Back then, I wanted to give Desong Cliff to you. Who told you to refuse to do my bidding?" Critic asked in utter disbelief, "You're still giving me compensation?" "Why wouldn't I?" The Peddler leaned against his handcart and lit a cigarette. "Losses or gains, debts must be squared. There is no business in this world with guaranteed profits. Consider this deal a loss on my part, but since you did the job, I have to pay." P.S. The Peddler did not seem surprised by this outcome.