Chapter 32: Touch It

Duan Rong returned to Antique Street once again.

He first pretended to stroll leisurely toward the entrance of the alley where he had killed people before, and he noticed that several stall owners near the entrance were setting up their stalls with calm expressions.

Several days had already passed since the incident where he killed those people.

Recalling that day, the attire and accents of those four people suggested they were not from this county; having suddenly died in that remote alley, it was likely that even their identities could not be determined.

Moreover, there was no aggrieved party to file a complaint. How would the Ya Men take it seriously?

Without an aggrieved party, who would they extort?

The bodies might have been taken to the Public Mortuary that very day and burned directly.

In the Jiuzhou Continent, public order was quite chaotic; it was perfectly normal for a person or two to die occasionally.

These few people had simply vanished from this world, and it was nothing more than one extra cold case in the Ya Men, likely just a few lines of text in the documents on the Head Constable's desk.

Duan Rong breathed a sigh of relief and walked back and forth along Antique Street.

He had already decided to spend a few days thoroughly scouring this street to see how much gold could be sifted out of this silt.

In any case, since he could only practice Stance Training for an hour and a half every day, he had plenty of free time to devote to the business of picking up bargains...

Three days later, Duan Rong, with a dark face, straightened his aching waist from a stall at the end of Antique Street.

One must know that his waist, tempered by Stance Training, was not exactly forged a thousand times, but at the very least, it was well-trained.

Yet at this moment, it was actually struggling to hold up.

The main reason was that Duan Rong had been working too fiercely!

In three days, he had almost scoured the entire Antique Street, and his method of scouring involved touching every single item.

Over these three days, Duan Rong had earned a nickname on Antique Street: "Touch-it."

The stall owners were initially a bit resistant to Duan Rong, but after three days, he was already well-known, and the stall owners treated him as a bit of fun, letting him do as he pleased.

In any case, he didn't steal or rob; he just touched it openly right in front of you.

"Touched enough?" the stall owner at the last stall asked with a grin as he saw Duan Rong stand up.

It was just that Duan Rong was extremely depressed at the moment and had no time to talk nonsense with him.

In the entire Antique Street, apart from the Lady Painting by Fan Yunlin he had found a few days ago, there wasn't a single genuine item.

"A bunch of scammers!"

Duan Rong was quite dissatisfied with the stall owners on Antique Street.

Duan Rong suddenly thought of a story he had learned in his past life; that story was called "Waiting for a Rabbit by a Tree Stump," which seemed to come from Han Feizi's "Five Vermin."

"A man of Song was tilling his field when a rabbit ran into a stump, broke its neck, and died. He then abandoned his plow to watch the stump, hoping to get another rabbit. The rabbit could not be obtained again, and he became the laughingstock of Song."

At this moment, Duan Rong felt that he was that farmer waiting for a rabbit by the stump; not only could the rabbit not be obtained again, but even his own farmland had gone to waste.

He had wasted three days for nothing!

Exhausted in body and mind, Duan Rong left Antique Street and sat down in a beef soup shop not far from the side of the street.

Duan Rong ordered a bowl of beef soup and two sesame cakes; he poured a large spoonful of chili oil into the soup and began to slurp it down.

Just as Duan Rong was eating and sweating profusely, he suddenly saw a stall across the street.

It was a thin, middle-aged man dressed as a scholar who was helping someone write a letter there.

Behind the scholar's stall, some calligraphy and paintings were hanging, which seemed to be written and painted by himself.

Most of those paintings were figure paintings, including ladies with bold and unrestrained bearing, and Martial Artists wielding swords and spears; they all looked quite vivid from a distance...

And at this moment, sitting in front of his stall was an old woman carrying a vegetable basket and wearing a headscarf.

Duan Rong watched for a while, and the thin scholar who was bowing his head to write the letter suddenly made his heart stir, and he exclaimed again: "I am truly too smart!"

"You have seen Lady Paintings, have you ever seen PS?"

"What is called industrial upgrading? What is called a new business model?"

"What is called dimensionality reduction strike!"

"Oli-ge!"

Duan Rong jumped up from his seat in excitement, accidentally knocking the soup bowl to the ground; with a bang, both the soup and the bowl shattered.

"Ouch, my bowl!" The landlady walked over with a waddling gait, looking angry; she wiped her hands on her apron and glared at Duan Rong with a look of annoyance. "You're such a big person, how are you still so careless?"

Duan Rong smiled sheepishly and said, "Calm your anger, landlady. It was a moment of carelessness; I accept the penalty! This is one qian of silver; please take it, and sorry for the trouble of cleaning up."

Duan Rong stuffed the one qian of silver into the landlady's hand and rushed out of the soup shop, heading toward Antique Street, unable to wait any longer.

Duan Rong wasn't being generous; he simply had no time to waste here with the landlady, and the smallest piece of silver in his inner pocket was one qian.

"In such a rush to collect a corpse!" the landlady spat and cursed as she watched Duan Rong run out. She looked down at her hand and saw, sure enough, a piece of silver worth one qian. She immediately smiled and said, "This person is quite straightforward with his money, but he's too reckless and lacks composure; he's not someone who can settle down and live a life!"

As the landlady spoke, she tucked the silver away and picked up a broom to sweep the broken bowl shards into a dustpan.

Having earned a qian of silver for nothing, the landlady was in a great mood, and even her eyes and brows took on a charming air...

At this time, the sky was near dusk, and the stall owners on Antique Street had already begun to pack up one after another, preparing to go home.

Duan Rong pushed through the bustling crowd and quickly rushed to a stall in the middle of the street.

The stall owner was a middle-aged fat man with a handlebar mustache, looking a bit like Bao Butong.

Duan Rong rushed over and immediately started rummaging through the painting jar next to the stall.

"Damn, Touch-it, why are you back again?" The stall owner was packing up his things and saw the flustered Duan Rong when he turned his head.

Duan Rong said nothing, only focusing on rummaging through the painting jar, when suddenly his face lit up with joy and he said, "Found it!"

Duan Rong opened the painting and saw that it was a rather magnificent work titled Night Banquet of Ladies.

In the painting, there were seven or eight ladies, some lying down or sitting, some petting a cat or waving a fan; they were elegant in form and spirit, with different expressions.

In truth, if one were to judge this painting by its artistic standard, it was not a top-tier piece, let alone a masterpiece.

But it suited the aesthetic tastes of the general public very well, and hanging it in a bedroom would not be without a sense of elegance.

Duan Rong had no time to appreciate it at this moment; he looked at the set of data floating before his eyes and smiled slightly.

Artifact: Night Banquet of Ladies

Spirit Artifact Tier: First Tier

Devour Requirement: Host Mental Power Level 1 (Met)

Devour Effect: Masterful Brushwork Primary Level.

"Kid, you've got an eye for things; this painting is considered a top-tier piece even here. Look at these brushstrokes, this appearance. Look at how fair and tender this young lady is, just like a peeled scallion." As the sleazy stall owner with a handlebar mustache spoke, his eyes actually emitted a lecherous glint.

"Devour!" Duan Rong ignored the stall owner entirely and silently chanted in his heart.

Then, he rolled it up with both hands, placed the painting back into the painting jar, and said, "This painting is like a Spring Palace Painting; it's bad for the body!"

After Duan Rong finished speaking, he turned his head and walked away.

The stall owner was slightly stunned, his face even turning a bit red, and he muttered, "You... you... what nonsense are you spouting! I am a married man!"

The stall owner still wanted to explain a few words, but he discovered that Duan Rong had already walked far away.

Seeing Duan Rong return only to leave again, he had thought he could close a deal, but he didn't expect that a touch—it really was just a touch—meant he definitely wouldn't buy it.

Just touching without buying, pure freeloading!

However, the stall owner still felt it was a bit strange; how could this kid pick out his beloved object without opening the painting, just by touching it? "Weirdos are all wicked!"

(End of this chapter)