Chapter 100: I Am of the Yuan Clan

A single Ningyuan Pill made Zheng Fa realize just how poor he truly was.

According to Zhang Shijie’s records in the “Fu Dao Foundation Establishment Method,” each time one forms a talisman in the dantian, one must consume pills—and due to tolerance, the quantity required increases incrementally.

Before Qi Refining third stage, one Ningyuan Pill suffices to form one talisman.

But after forming three talismans, two Ningyuan Pills are needed.

By the time one reaches the final four talismans, three Ningyuan Pills are required.

Zheng Fa did a rough calculation: achieving this Foundation Establishment method would cost three or four hundred spirit stones.

Zheng Fa doubted how Zhang Shijie had possibly managed to complete it before Foundation Establishment.

Oh, right—she was a real Nascent Soul disciple. That explained everything.

Stepping out of Jiuzhuan Pavilion, Zheng Fa headed toward the market at the valley entrance—his only idea for earning spirit stones now was selling talismans.

He needed to do some market research.

The market was the busiest place in Jiushan Sect.

The broad street was packed with a dense crowd jostling shoulder to shoulder.

From both sides of the shops, clerks shouted their wares in overlapping calls.

Everything under the sun was sold here.

Spirit weapons, elixirs, magic treasures, spirit herbs…

Even some rather obscure items:

Zheng Fa spotted a shop selling puppets—these puppets, how to put it—were highly humanlike, beautiful, and scandalously scant in fabric.

Clearly not the sort of puppets one would expect.

He approached a small elixir shop and asked: “Do you sell Ningyuan Pills?”

The shopkeeper stared at Zheng Fa for a long moment: “Ningyuan Pills? The ones Jiuzhuan Pavilion sells for twenty spirit stones?”

“Yes.”

The shopkeeper chuckled bitterly: “My humble shop’s most expensive elixir costs one spirit stone per pill. Ningyuan Pills—rare as they are—if I had them to sell, would you dare take them?”

“...”

Indeed, one couldn’t just swallow pills recklessly; saving a few spirit stones wasn’t worth risking one’s life.

Zheng Fa wandered the entire market—the prices here were indeed low.

The highest single price was no more than one or two spirit stones.

Compared to the twenty-spirit-stone Ningyuan Pills, these were excellent value.

What puzzled Zheng Fa was that not a single shop in the market sold talismans—not one.

Only at the market’s end did he realize it wasn’t just the rows of shops ahead—there was also a large open-air bazaar.

Rows of stalls, like neatly aligned blocks, stretched from the market all the way to the riverbank.

The stalls offered a bewildering variety of goods.

Broken magic weapons.

Uncertainly fresh spirit herbs.

Piles of disordered books.

The only common trait? All of them looked worthless.

Zheng Fa even saw someone selling buns—the kind of ordinary meat buns found in the mortal world.

He felt as if he’d walked from a luxury store into a regular mall, then into a wholesale market.

The market’s most numerous stalls were those selling talismans—at least six out of ten.

...This talisman business seemed awfully competitive.

Zheng Fa walked the entire market and noticed that talisman stalls clearly had worse business than others—almost no customers at all—even the meat bun stalls had lines!

He crouched beside a talisman stall and examined the talisman papers laid out.

All were low-grade Yellow-grade talismans, common types.

The vendor, who had been lounging lazily on a small reclining chair, immediately jumped up when he spotted a rare customer: “Brother, what are you looking for?”

“What are the prices?”

“Golden Armor Talisman: fifteen for one spirit stone.”

“Spirit Eye Talisman: twenty for one spirit stone.”

“Earth Submersion Talisman: ten for one spirit stone.”

“...”

Listening to his prices, Zheng Fa calculated: a skilled talisman artist’s cost was roughly thirty talismans per spirit stone. Here, Yellow-grade talismans sold for ten to twenty per spirit stone.

About half profit.

Not too bad?

Seeing Zheng Fa silent, the vendor assumed he thought it too expensive: “Brother, don’t think I’m overcharging. I pay rent for this stall, and for every sale, I must pay Jiushan Sect a cut...”

“...How much profit do you actually make?”

Zheng Fa asked.

The vendor grimaced: “Ten percent.”

“...”

Meaning he had to sell over three hundred talismans to earn one spirit stone.

Looking at the stall’s dismal sales, how long would it take to sell three hundred?

“To be honest, if I hadn’t foolishly rented this stall from a senior, I’d never have taken this business.” The vendor gestured to the surrounding talisman stalls: “Jiushan Sect has too many talisman artists!”

Zheng Fa glanced around.

He finally understood why no shops in the market sold talismans—higher rent would be crushed by these stalls.

The vendor, watching Zheng Fa’s lingering gaze, frowned and asked: “You’re not thinking of getting into this business, are you?”

Zheng Fa nodded slightly, a little embarrassed to be caught.

“New disciple?”

“Yes.”

“...Ah, younger brother, listen to this senior’s advice: first, calm down and master talisman drawing—then consider stepping into this mess.” The vendor, realizing Zheng Fa was new and offered no profit, slumped back into his chair lazily, pointing at him: “Every new disciple is poor and thinks they can make money here—few last three months. This business isn’t for newcomers.”

...Was Jiushan Sect really this hard to start a business in?

“Zheng Shidi?”

Before Zheng Fa could respond, a puzzled voice came from afar—he looked up and saw Han Qi and the other two.

“Han Shixiong.”

“Zheng Shidi, what are you...” Han Qi stared at the talisman stall before Zheng Fa, confused: “You need to buy these things?”

The stall vendor grew angry.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve been in this market for ten years—I’m well known... who doesn’t say my talismans are good?”

“...” Han Qi glanced at him, expression odd: “Zheng Shidi is a proper Xuan-grade talisman artist—why would he buy your Yellow-grade talismans?”

“?”

“Zheng Shidi, what brings you here today?”

“To earn some spirit stones.” Zheng Fa added: “Brother, do you know the market price for Xuan-grade talismans?”

“Xuan-grade talismans?” Han Qi thought a moment: “Prices vary, but they’re generally about ten times the price of Yellow-grade.”

Zheng Fa felt slightly relieved.

Seeing the market’s conditions earlier, he’d been worried.

After all, Jiushan Sect’s talisman artists seemed overwhelmingly saturated.

At this Xuan-grade price, if he painted a hundred talismans a month, he’d still earn ten to twenty spirit stones.

“Shidi... are you short on spirit stones?” Han Qi hesitated, then asked.

“That’s a strange thing to say...” Zheng Fa looked at him: “Aren’t you short too?”

He still remembered how this man had swindled new disciples on the boat.

Han Qi seemed to recall it too—he chuckled awkwardly, then looked troubled.

The group wandered the market again, then headed toward the market’s edge, where a small, closed building caught Zheng Fa’s attention.

The building had an excellent location—at one exit of the market. Opening a shop here would likely bring good business.

But the door was half-open, with two men guarding it—not inviting customers, but preventing accidental entry.

“That’s the market supervisor’s office,” Han Qi said, as if reading his thoughts: “If disputes arise in the market, they send people here to handle them. Rumor says the interior is where the market’s accounts are kept—ordinary people can’t enter. Be careful, Zheng Shidi—don’t think a supervisor is insignificant; the market is Jiushan Sect’s foundation.”

Zheng Fa nodded—he understood Han Qi’s meaning.

With the Hundred Immortal Alliance at peace for a thousand years, commerce had flourished unusually.

Just from the market’s crowds, Jiushan Sect’s main income likely came from here.

The market supervisor’s position carried low rank but heavy authority.

“Have you ever met this supervisor?”

“No,” Han Qi said. “But I heard he’s rarely here—just a hands-off boss.”

As the two passed the building, Zheng Fa suddenly heard someone call his name: “Zheng Fa?”

“?”

Zheng Fa looked up—a second-floor window opened, and Yuan Shijie’s face appeared, waving at him: “Come up!”

Zheng Fa glanced at Han Qi beside him.

“Senior Sister Yuan?” he asked hesitantly: “Can I enter this place?”

“What can or can’t you? This place is under my control!” Senior Sister Yuan frowned at his hesitation: “I need you!”

The two disciples at the door exchanged a look, stepped aside left and right, signaling Zheng Fa to enter.

Zheng Fa hesitated, then walked into the small building.

Han Qi, behind him, had dared not enter—but the two disciples, assuming they were together, stared at him, growing impatient when he didn’t move: “We told you to come in!”

Han Qi could only tremble as he followed Zheng Fa into the building.

On the second floor of the building was a study used for official duties, with a large desk covered in a chaotic pile of account books.

Senior Sister Yuan’s gaze burned as it fell on the account books.

“Senior Sister Yuan?”

Zheng Fa was puzzled why she had summoned him—until he saw her snap her head up, her eyes brimming with resentment.

“?”

“Was it you who gave Senior Sister Zhang those problems?” she asked in a low, haunting tone.

“...Yes.”

Slam!

“So now she thinks my account books are beneath her! All these! All for me to calculate!” Senior Sister Yuan slammed her hand on the books: “She says they’re too easy! Where?! Is?! It?! EASY?!”

“...”

Zheng Fa understood: because of those problems, Senior Sister Zhang’s threshold for enjoyment had risen.

So Senior Sister Yuan’s favorite tool for slacking off—the calculator—had broken down.

The former idle boss now had to sit here, grinding through calculations.

Senior Sister Yuan glared at Zheng Fa for a long moment, then turned her eyes to Han Qi behind him—as if something occurred to her, her expression darkened further.

“Han Qi?”

“Senior Sister?”

Han Qi’s face lit up with surprise—after all, this market supervisor was a major figure in his eyes; she actually knew his name?

“You and Zheng Fa are quite close, then?”

Han Qi’s eyes darted.

Zheng Fa seemed quite familiar with this senior sister...

He should flatter her!

“The moment I met Senior Brother Zheng, I knew he was a dragon among men—I admired him deeply!”

“So Senior Brother Zheng is better than me, is he?”

“?”

“Didn’t you hear what Zheng Fa called me?” Senior Sister Yuan’s gaze turned dangerous: “My surname is Yuan.”

“Senior... Brother Yuan?”

Han Qi shuddered, remembering how he and Zheng Fa had laughed and chatted downstairs—right under her watch.

A sudden, guilty feeling, like being caught in adultery.

“Zheng Fa, these three were originally mine! You stole them...”

Han Qi and the other two turned pale as they listened.

“I did steal them.”

Han Qi and the other two: “?”

“But stealing from Senior Sister Zhang? That’s going too far!”

Senior Sister Yuan looked at Zheng Fa as if he were a greedy, insatiable third party who had stolen her lover and was now digging under her walls.