"I would sell it to you for two thousand gold coins each," Wuji said flatly.
The third elder immediately bowed deeply, his face filled with gratitude. "Thank you for your generosity senior for selling it to us for only two thousand gold coins."
Wuji didn't react outwardly, but his thoughts twisted immediately. "Two thousand...and he's calling it generous. Did I say the wrong price?"
Wuji had underestimated them. What he didn't know was that the village chief's private coffers rivaled those of city lords. In a world ruled by cultivators, there was no way a cultivator, even the weakest one, would remain poor for long.
The third elder, entrusted with that wealth, wasn't spending his own money. But even if it were, that wouldn't matter.
Gold is only valuable to those with time to use it. For the dying and the desperate, no price was too high for a higher position in society.
"Am I really just a frog at the bottom of a well?" Wuji thought. "Damn, did I just play myself? Next time I run a scam, I should do a proper background check."
He reached into his robe and slowly pulled out two books, dropping them in front of him with a quiet thump. The third elder crouched reverently and picked them up.
He flipped through one, scanning the words with his eyes. He slowly opened his mouth in surprise.
"It's genuine," the elder whispered. "And profound—just as you said."
His hands trembled slightly as he read the title aloud:
"Thousand Sinew Tyrant Body Manual..." "Take the body as one. Practice the Dao of flesh until a flick of your finger can shatter boulders."
He looked up, his eyes gleaming. "What an overbearing manual! The insight into the body is remarkable."
Wuji said nothing, maintaining his posture and silence. Inside, his thoughts were cold and precise.
"One manual with a ridiculous condition is enough to sell. If I add too many, they'll get suspicious. If I add none, it's not worth the gamble," he thought.
He knew the trick was balance: just enough truth to bait belief.
The third elder reached into his sleeve and pulled out a stack of thick, stamped notes bearing regional sigils.
"Here. Four thousand gold coins in promissory notes. These can be exchanged in any of the surrounding kingdoms' banks."
Wuji took ten of the banknotes and tucked them into his robe. Then, without looking at them, he slid the rest toward the elder.
"Take these and exchange them for gold coins," he said. "I might need them for immediate use. I can't leave yet. I'm waiting for someone."
The elder bowed again, already cradling the books as if they were sacred relics.
"All right, Senior," the third elder said, nodding respectfully before heading toward the center of town where the local bank was located.
As their group moved through the crowd, they passed a group of nobles walking toward the paper shop.
A servant walking behind one of the nobles leaned in. "Young Master, those are the ones who saw it."
Chen Dali glanced lazily at the group. "Them? They don't look like much."
An older man walking just behind him narrowed his eyes.
"They may not look rich, but they're all martial artists. Especially the elder. He's close to becoming a first-rate martial artist. That kind of strength doesn't just appear out of nowhere."
That made Chen pause. He looked again, this time more carefully. He noticed the third elder's composure and Yulian's presence. Liang's quiet wariness.
"Hmph. Let's go ask them."
A servant jogged ahead and called out.
"Hey! Wait! My young master wants to talk to you!"
The third elder turned around, raising his eyebrows. Yulian, who was walking behind him, frowned.
"Huh, what do those spoiled brats want now?" she muttered.
"No idea," Liang said, already annoyed. "Let's just see what this is."
The nobles approached casually, but there was tension in their eyes, especially Young Master Chen's.
"My servant claims you met a powerful master," Chen said, skipping the pleasantries. "Is it true? Did he heal a fresh wound right before your eyes?"
The third elder didn't hesitate. "We don't know what you're talking about," he said flatly. "We're busy. Go see for yourself."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and continued toward the bank, his group moving with him.
Young Master Chen blinked, confused by the third elder's attitude. Then, he turned to the old man behind him. "What do you think, Uncle?"
The old man stiffened slightly and lowered his voice. "Don't call me that in public. No one is supposed to know I'm here."
"Right. Sorry. Protector," Chen said, grinning despite himself.
The man—Chen's protector—watched the departing group for a moment.
"They're hiding something. But they didn't deny it outright. That kind of reaction only happens when there's a hint of truth."
He looked at the other nobles, then toward the street where Wuji was still sitting. "As he said, we should go see for ourselves."
The other young nobles nodded. "Let's find out if this 'master' is real or just another street trick."
Back in front of the paper shop, Wuji trembled slightly beneath his cloth wrap. "Damn... Why did it suddenly get colder? If I didn't have this cloak, I'd be freezing."
He pulled the thick fabric tighter and glanced down at the stack of paper money in his hand. The notes were covered in strange markings and symbols he didn't recognize.
They had embossed patterns that he didn't understand. Their texture was different, too—smoother, firmer, and slightly waxy compared to the rough paper scraps he worked with.
"So this is why paper making is so tightly controlled," he thought.
Then he felt it: a sharp, lingering gaze.
He looked up slowly and saw a group of nobles approaching. Their robes shimmered faintly in the sunlight.
Young Master Chen walked in the center, flanked by the same nobles who had been at the gate, as well as several alert servants and guards.
"What now?" Wuji thought. "Do they just want to browse the shop?"
He closed his eyes and held his breath, projecting the indifference of a busy man.
"So, this is the master you spoke of?" Chen Dali asked, glancing sideways at his servant.
"Yes, Young Master," the servant nodded quickly. "That's him. I saw the wound close before my eyes. Please be careful. He's got a strange temperament."
"Strange temperament?" scoffed another noble boy. "He's just wrapped in a blanket, not a storm cloud."
But as they neared Wuji, a sudden chill washed over them. The area around the paper shop felt off. The air felt different. Stepping into that area was like entering another world entirely.
Chen's eyes narrowed. Even the most arrogant of the nobles slowed their steps.
The older man walking behind them—Protector Long—tensed and scanned the area. He sensed that something was off.
"Young Master Chen," he said in a low, sharp voice. "All of you, be careful. Don't say anything unless I tell you to."
The nobles fell silent immediately. "Understood," they replied in unison, moving carefully and standing guardedly.
They stood in front of Wuji in silence. "Hmmm... What's this about? Are they here for me?" he thought.
He didn't open his eyes, letting the silence stretch on. "They're still not moving. Damn it! They are indeed here for me."
He kept still, breathing slowly.
"What do they want from me? Did they see through my act? No, if they had, they'd be louder. More arrogant. This cold is getting worse. I need to leave soon. But I should wait for the third elder to exchange the bank note for gold coins before leaving."
He finally opened his eyes. "Why are you disturbing my meditation?" he asked, his voice threatening to the already tense noble youngsters.
Chen Dali stepped forward, trying to keep his voice calm. "Senior, we would like to purchase martial techniques from you."
Wuji narrowed his eyes and spoke in a flat tone. "Martial techniques? Do I look like someone who sells them?"
The group froze. If they said yes, they'd offend him. If they said no, they'd lose their chance to ask.
The silence thickened. Wuji scoffed faintly. "Fine. I do have techniques. But why should I sell them to you?"
"Senior, we are willing to pay. Just name your price," said Chen Dali, bowing slightly. His tone was respectful yet urgent.
Wuji's eyes flickered beneath the cloth. "Oh, another fat cash cow," he thought. "Let's see how far they are willing to go."
His voice turned low and rough, almost disdainful. "Do I look like I crave mortal desires, boy? Leave before I lose patience."
The group hesitated. They looked at each other, unsure whether to beg or retreat.
Chen Dali gritted his teeth, then dropped to one knee. "Senior, please. We truly need your guidance. With your technique, we might finally change our mortal fate."
Wuji raised an eyebrow internally.
"So it's about them, huh?"
He deepened his voice, speaking slowly and contemplatively. "Ah, so you want to impress the upcoming cultivators?"
The noble youngsters froze. They had tried to hide their ambition behind formality, but Wuji's words hit home.
Chen Dali glanced at the others, then gave a wry smile. "Senior is wise. You see through our petty thoughts with ease."
Wuji leaned forward slightly and let the silence stretch out before speaking. "How many of you nobles have come to this small town?"
"We're the first group from the nearby cities," said Chen. "The capital's envoy groups will arrive within the week, at the latest."
Wuji's eyes narrowed. "Faster than expected. The bait spread farther than I thought. But this is also good; that old chief doesn't know what's coming for him."
His tone turned heavier and more weathered. "Why? Isn't nobility enough? Why chase a path with no return?"
Chen Dali stood straighter, his voice firm and almost proud.
"Because we want to live longer. Because we want to dictate our own fates instead of having them handed down by birth."
The other nobles nodded, some solemnly and some with silent fire in their eyes.
Wuji watched them, studying their posture, eyes, and hands. They were pampered but also desperate. Desperate people could be used.
Then he asked the question he really cared about. "What do you know about the cultivation world?"
Chen Dali hesitated for a moment.
"Why is Senior asking this? Is it a test, or has he just emerged from seclusion after decades?"
Still, he answered.