Chapter 447: All-Purpose Royal Oil

Whenever someone stops to glance at that landscape painting, the King immediately launches into explanation mode: "This landscape is a three‑hundred‑year‑old royal collection—look, there are several seals here; the Phoenix Collection has no fakes!" Nobody here knows Xie Tu, but the King also has his own way of selling paintings.

From years of stall‑vending experience, he sees that all kinds of people gather here, far beyond his knowledge and imagination. Some even know that… what's it called… the qi‑observation technique—for example, when he sold ritual vessels to that sucker… uh, no, I mean customer.

Qiao Yi beside him: "…Here we go again, here we go again—that 'royal collection' you keep talking about is just yourself."

"You could call any piece of junk you pick up a royal collection, couldn't you?"

When the King called out to the fifth person, that person asked the price.

The King was delighted: "Master Xie Tu's work from his prime, a royal collection piece—look at the seal! I'm in a hurry to pack up and go sleep; all I need is thirty thousand treasure."

The person asking about the price shook his head: "Too expensive! You, born into royalty, might not know the value of treasure—this isn't a small change."

That person shook his head and walked away; the King wrung his hands: "Did I shout too high? Shouldn't I be haggling?"

Qiao Yi asked him: "What's your bottom line then?"

The King: "Not even three thousand? That's too little—how would I face Master Xie Tu?"

Qiao Yi: "…Hard to judge."

When another price‑asker arrived, after the King finished boasting about the royal collection and the painting's skill, he hesitated at quoting a price and began to agonize.

The inquirer thought he was reluctant and urged him to hurry. The King hemmed and hawed: "Ah… I'm afraid I'll scare you off—how about… how about twenty thousand?" He was afraid of someone like Bai Yang who would slash the price to zero, so he didn't dare ask for less.

The person let out a breath: "You're hesitating over twenty thousand? I thought you'd ask for two hundred thousand!"

The King's eyes lit up: "Here comes someone who doesn't mind spending?"

"Twenty thousand is too high—ten… eight! I'll take it!"

The King drew a deep breath, "Good heavens, where did this sucker come from! A painting by Xie Tu at his age selling for eighteen thousand taels is unheard of!"

"I've already quoted my lowest price, okay? How about you add some brushes and ink so I can make a little profit? These are all royal‑made items; displayed at home they'd look classy."

The person picked up an inkstone carved with landscapes; the King quoted a thousand, this brush holder made of boxwood is worth eight hundred treasure, and I'll throw in two brushes—altogether that's twenty thousand! Both the brush holder and inkstone are royal‑made, genuine; if any fake turns up after the deal, I won't let the estate get away with it.

The King's solemn, guilt‑free promise made the deep‑pocketed sucker think it over—still okay~

He happily swiped his card; the King struggled to hide his joy, calmly rolled up the painting and packed it for the customer. After the guest left, the King almost jumped up singing a hymn of joy.

Qiao Yi hurriedly handed a fruit to the smug "Get‑rich Neighbor": "You're unstoppable at stall‑vending, and the King should also look after my business."

The King waved his hand grandly: "I'm your big customer—give me another twenty of the Spring‑Returning Pill and the Youth‑Returning Pill, just like before!"

"All right! Delivery in seven days!"

The next day the King's troupe was set to head back; Tang Qian was already in Jinhui, and the King didn't plan to waste time going to Shanyang Pass. The water‑gathering he'd done on the campaign against the Qiang had given him an idea—having just made money, he lavishly tossed a few big and small springs into the desert and the Shanyang Pass garrison area near Dun City, leaving them on the surface, believing passersby or beasts would soon find them.

The Beidi Commandery and other counties he hadn't time to visit followed suit, placing a spring wherever the map showed dense population.

If he kept marching at the same speed across Liangzhou, he wouldn't make it back to Youzhou before the autumn harvest—this trip to suppress the Qiang really wasted a lot of time.

At dawn the troops were ready to move; the King didn't bother with a send‑off, the whole county still asleep, he slipped out quietly, only Tang Qian seeing him off to the city gates.

Old Tang still felt reluctant to part with the King, wistfully thinking that next time they met the King might have grown up, and he'd no longer see such an amusing child—it was time to become steady and proper.

Who would have thought the troops would already be moving, yet the King stuck half his body out the wagon window to wave at him: "Old Tang, in two years, when I hold my birthday review, I'll also summon you back to Youzhou!"

Old Tang: "……"

He waved his hand speechlessly: "What kind of birthday celebration are you planning with that lively attitude of yours!"

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The King makes money fast and spends it faster—his twenty thousand taels are almost gone in Liangzhou. The key is that nobody can see he's spent big; even his cousin who cries poverty doesn't believe it.

"It's just fifty thousand taels spent—no big deal, no big deal~"

The King: "…That's because you, Big Head, haven't seen it!"

Wei Shen saw that the King treated Xie Tu with utmost care—not only arranging for him to ride in the carriage, but also slipping him a book to relieve boredom. "This piece truly wasn't written for nothing!"

Hardly out of the city, a soldier reported that someone was pursuing them from behind; at that moment the Vice Commander of the Snow Cavalry was beside the King's carriage, and the King, eager for a spectacle, lifted the curtain: "Could it be that Tang Qian forgot something? Let's wait and see!"

The troop had to stop; shortly after, a cavalryman brought in a sweat‑drenched youth. Though he looked disheveled, the King instantly recognized him: "Enemy!"

Peng Tian was flung to the ground, face‑planted in dirt, looking even more disheveled—it's hard to believe the King could recognize him.

This is the very boy who once dug a pit for the King outside the city and even dared to spit at him.

"What are you chasing me for? Apologize? I won't accept it!" the King raised his neck, proud as ever.

The boy rose to his knees, and for the first time looked at the King with calm, non‑hostile eyes: "…My forefathers all died at the hands of the Qiang; my grandfather was a minor official in Jincheng. From childhood I knew Jincheng was a cursed city abandoned by the Great Jin, and I hate every Qiang and every sly Jin person… I admit you're formidable, I'm guilty—beat me, and after that I want to join you." He pointed to the Snow Cavalry beside the King's wagon, his eyes full of endless longing.

The King laughed: "I pardon you, because you're young and I'm magnanimous enough not to quarrel. Do you think anyone can join the Snow Cavalry? I command three hundred thousand soldiers, but the Snow Cavalry numbers only three thousand."

Peng Tian's flushed, hot face began to pale as he gave the King a deep kowtow: "I'll soon grow as tall as them, my strength is great, I'll train hard—harder than anyone—and I want to enlist."

The King, arms crossed, chin resting on his hand, sized him up: "How old are you this year?"

"Fourteen."

"You look like you're barely ten, yet I thought you were about my age! Never mind that my cavalry isn't short‑handed—your age alone isn't enough. Even if you train harder, your strength now can't match that of a twenty‑something adult. Besides, my Snow Cavalry can take on a hundred foes each; you can't do anything yet—where does that confidence come from?"

Peng Tian's face flushed again, and even Wei Shen, who had been staring at him like a tiger, felt a twinge of sympathy.

The King, having had his fun and feeling his revenge settled, said he wouldn't bully this ill‑fated child any further: "Your wish to join the army is good, but the Snow Cavalry accepts only top‑tier elite. How about this: Prefect Tang is still overseeing the watchtower construction in Jinhui—go ask him to let you first join the Shanyang Pass garrison. Once you become the number‑one sharp‑shooter among the garrison's hundred thousand troops, let him send you to Youzhou, and I promise to let you join the Snow Cavalry then."

Peng Tian, having never studied, grasped only the general idea: "So you're saying if I become the top person among the hundred‑thousand garrison, I can join the Snow Cavalry?"

The King nodded; Peng Tian was overjoyed, his dead heart revived—at last he had a hint of hope, though youths always think they know no bounds.

Having received affirmation, he this time sincerely kowtowed to the King: "Thank you, Your Highness—I will definitely go to Youzhou!"

The King grinned; the boy didn't yet know the Snow Cavalry isn't the end goal—the King still has a rival unit to outdo, the Owl Cavalry.