Chapter 17: Night Pearl

Jiang Ding entered the Four Seas Trading House, and before he could even take in his surroundings, a well-dressed, delicate maid stepped forward.

“Young Master Jiang, welcome to the Four Seas Trading House. Please ascend to the second floor—our shopkeeper will be here shortly.” The maid led the way, her voice clear and bright.

Jiang Ding paused: “You know me?”

The maid covered her mouth with a light laugh: “Young Master, Master Long has instructed us repeatedly: as soon as you arrive, summon him immediately to greet you. We’ve all memorized your face.”

In a quiet, elegant room on the second floor, a cup of fragrant tea was already prepared. Jiang Ding sat down, his fingers lightly brushing the hilt of his sword, lost in thought.

The maid stood gracefully beside him.

Soon, hurried footsteps approached from afar, growing louder.

Light—soft, gentle light.

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Jiang Ding asked curiously: “No century-grade herbs?”

As soon as he entered, Long San beamed: “I’ve long wished to pay you a visit, but feared disturbing your cultivation. Today, at last, I see you again.”

As for selling glowing pearls worth ten cash apiece as treasures—did it hurt his conscience? Of course not.

“Good.”

Still, being respected wasn’t unpleasant.

“Speak freely.”

“Sell.” Jiang Ding replied succinctly.

Long San rejoiced—this single sale would secure his annual performance.

Even though she had seen many treasures, the maid couldn’t help but gasp.

Inside the gift box lay a thumb-sized East Pearl radiating countless beams of light, clearly visible even in daylight.

Long San sighed heavily: “I have no face to show you. I’ll do as you say.”

In a non-spiritual environment, even a herb grown for a hundred years would merely become a woody stick, utterly useless.

“A while back, one of my servants introduced you to a manager, didn’t he? He was doing well—Manager Huang was decent in character and conduct. But as a newcomer, I had to place trusted men in key positions, so I recommended him to you through Huang Gui, hoping to lend a hand…”

“Young Master, please look.” Long San didn’t waste words—he carefully opened the final wooden box: “After verification by a famed physician from the provincial capital, this ninety-eight-year-old ginseng was acquired by our shop at great cost from the capital. Just two years short of a century-grade herb.”

Long San wasn’t surprised—anyone from the martial world rarely cared for mere silver and gold.

Jiang Ding pondered: in this low-martial world with traces of the supernatural, glowing pearls were still valuable, but not unheard-of—perhaps some naturally occurring spiritual materials could do the same.

“The quality is excellent.”

“How much did he embezzle?”

“This is an artifact of institutional depth—I’ve never seen one myself.”

Since his “Young Eagle Soaring Sword Art” reached minor mastery, he dared not train at full strength anymore, fearing blood and qi depletion and hidden injuries—he could only maintain his current proficiency.

Long San’s expression turned awkward.

“This Night Pearl is average in size, but its radiance far surpasses others—it’s a rare treasure. Are you certain you wish to sell it?” Long San asked solemnly.

“Ah.”

“But I don’t just want money,” Jiang Ding said coolly. “I need century-grade or older herbs—preferably ginseng.”

Embezzlement within the trading house? Even the authorities might not intervene.

“No, yesterday while inspecting the warehouse, I discovered a major case of embezzlement—multiple managers involved, colluding with outsiders. Such immoral individuals could become a source of disaster.”

“The accounts must be recovered. I dislike such people. Moreover, I still have use for him—please don’t resort to private punishment. Let it end here.”

Value varies by person—it has labor value and commodity value. Even if something is worthless, adding the exorbitant cost of inter-realm transport justifies a high price.

Soon, over twenty redwood boxes were brought forward one by one by the maids.

Huang Deyou currently oversees specimen acquisition—he’s already built a solid channel and is performing well. Replacing him would delay specimen collection.

“I came today mainly because I’m short on cash—I’m here to sell goods to you, Shopkeeper,” Jiang Ding said, handing over a palm-sized gift box.

“Bring me all the ginseng over forty years old!” He turned to Jiang Ding: “Young Master, you’re straightforward—I won’t beat around the bush. I’ll give you the best price.” Long San’s expression turned serious as he took the box—the texture was fine and soft, as if made of some precious fur; even the box alone was costly.

After verifying each one, Jiang Ding looked up: “Shopkeeper, bring me the oldest ones. My thousand taels may be a lot, but they won’t buy much.”

Not bad.

Jiang Ding’s eyes flashed.

“Not much—Huang Deyou is among the least greedy of them,” Long San waved his hand. “Just over twenty taels. Not a fortune, but the offense is despicable—I can’t stand traitors like this!”

“Close the windows,” Long San maintained his composure, his voice low.

“Young Master, you jest.”

Long San shook his head: “Century-grade herbs are the pinnacle of medicinal treasures—their effects dwarf all others, occasionally granting breakthroughs in realm. When traded, it’s only among the heads of great clans or sects—they never reach the open market.”

Jiang Ding sighed: “I see.”

The windows closed. A faint white glow filled the room, dimmer than a candle, but enough to read the characters on a book.

“Valuation…” Long San pondered long, then rose and paced several circles. “One thousand taels? That’s the highest price our Four Seas Trading House offers for non-cultivation goods.”

After exchanging pleasantries, both sat down.

His tone carried regret.

For a poor family, this sum would sustain them for over ten years.

Long San praised him.

!.

“Young Master Jiang, my apologies for the tardy greeting!”

Long San took a white cloth and gently wiped the pearl—its luster restored. Then came the magnifying glass, medicinal powders, every possible method of appraisal.

Open.

His cultivation speed had improved slightly, but nowhere near fast enough to rapidly approach the Inner Qi realm.

“There’s something… I owe you an apology—I dare not hide it.”

Jiang Ding’s gaze sharpened.

“I won’t let you lose out.”

Huang Deyou’s lucky bastard—he’d have broken both his legs himself if fate hadn’t spared him.

Long San opened a box: “Young Master, this is forty-year-old ginseng—valued at one hundred and twenty taels. You may have it for one hundred.”

Young, good-looking, courteous, powerful in cultivation—and even skilled in miscellaneous arts? If he weren’t trained by a top-tier sect, he’d never believe it.

To steal from the Long family? He’s asking for death.

“Shopkeeper, you’re too kind,” Jiang Ding rose slightly and bowed.

“Young Master, you’re direct!”

When we speak of herbs of so many years, we refer to the accumulated pure spiritual energy within them—only possible in a spiritual environment. One hundred years marks a threshold; if it fails, it rots.

Jiang Ding took the wooden box and carefully examined it, using the methods taught in biology class—his technique was highly professional, honed by repeated practice in the lab.

Jiang Ding thought for a moment.

“Young Master, you’re an expert!”

An Inner Qi cultivator could move silently without sacrificing speed—this felt deliberately restrained.

“This item is valued at twelve hundred taels.”

Long San said: “If you wish to buy, nine hundred and forty taels—and I’ll include a Four Seas Trading House silver token, granting you a five percent discount at any branch.”

“That’s settled.”

Jiang Ding nodded—he knew this wasn’t expensive.

(End of Chapter)