Chapter 104

“The money was borrowed by Minister Jiang Fengyu; by custom, debts die with the man. You pawnshop is demanding repayment from the Tianlao? You broke the rules first—how unwise!”

As Chen Guanlou finished speaking, every jailer placed a hand on his sword hilt; all it would take was Chen Tou’s order to draw blades and slash.

Outside the pavilion, the pawnshop’s thugs also refused to back down, drawing large knives and long swords, their arm muscles bulging.

The scene instantly grew tense, the atmosphere so fraught that birds on the trees fled in panic.

Yet the two beautiful maids acted as if they saw nothing, still calmly serving wine and fanning Master Li.

Two experienced maids, so beautiful, wasted on that pinched-faced, weasel-eyed Manager Li!

“Put them away, all of you. Nothing’s happened—no need to be so tense.” Manager Li raised a hand, lightly pressing downward; the pawnshop thugs immediately sheathed their weapons without hesitation.

Chen Guanlou also waved his hand behind him; the jailers obediently released their sword hilts.

“Mr. Chen, you misunderstand. I invited you here today not to collect debt, but to propose a business partnership.”

“Oh? What business could the Tianlao possibly have that would interest Master Li?”

“Mr. Chen, you’re too modest. I’ve heard by chance that you have a certain business—exactly the kind our pawnshop is now entering. Why not collaborate?”

Damn!

Do you have a dog’s nose?

He acted as a middleman, helping disgraced officials sell rare calligraphy and paintings, taking commissions of four to five percent. He thought his operation was discreet—but somehow, the pawnshop had found out.

Besides, this business doesn’t come daily or monthly. One deal a month is enough to cover food, drink, and pleasure. Two deals every two months? More than enough. It’s a slow, steady stream—low risk, long-lasting. He could keep it all to himself, no need to share profits with other jailers. If needed, he could just buy everyone a feast afterward—cheap enough to silence them.

“Such a small business? Master Li actually cares about this?”

“Hahaha, Mr. Chen, you’re joking. A profit of thousands of taels? How can you call that small?”

Chen Guanlou forced a laugh in response, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes—it carried a cold edge.

“Master Li, be more honest. I don’t believe the Si-Tong Pawnshop, with branches across the empire, would care about such a petty deal.”

Manager Li smiled, but said nothing.

Chen Guanlou understood at once, waved his hand, and signaled the jailers to leave the pavilion.

The jailers: …

Old hand Xiao Jin had the sense to act first—he led the jailers out immediately, sparing Chen Guanlou face.

The two maids also slipped away silently, leaving only a faint trail of perfume.

Manager Li set his wine cup aside, his expression hesitant.

Chen Guanlou wasn’t in a rush—he picked up his chopsticks and ate heartily.

“Are the food and wine to your taste?”

“No wonder it’s the top-tier banquet from Guanmei Pavilion—excellent!”

Chen Guanlou raised his tea cup. “Master Li, don’t be formal—eat and drink freely.”

Manager Li chuckled. Chen Guanlou had turned the tables—now he was inviting Manager Li to eat and drink.

“Our pawnshop often receives rare, valuable books as collateral, some of dubious origin. If we could route them through Mr. Chen’s Tianlao, the commission is negotiable.”

Chen Guanlou’s chopstick paused mid-air—he was being asked to be a front man!

He sneered. “Those murky items you have—routing them through the Tianlao? That’s pure fantasy.”

“Whether it’s fantasy or not, Mr. Chen, why not try one deal first before deciding?”

“Why me? There are plenty of others in the Tianlao.”

“Others lack the connections to touch such deals. Only you, Mr. Chen—backed by the Hou Fu—have the standing.”

Manager Li was blunt: he valued Chen Guanlou’s surname above all else.

Chen Guanlou let out a cold laugh. “I’m just a Chen—I’m no legitimate master of the Hou Fu. If someone wants to use me to scheme against the Hou Fu, we’re already five generations removed. You’ve picked the wrong target.”

“No one wants to scheme against the Hou Fu. Our goods only need to pass through the Tianlao—no need for you to even touch them. Just a record entry in the ledger. The commission is negotiable.”

Chen Guanlou clicked his tongue. “The more you say that, the less I want to agree. What kind of goods require such elaborate laundering through the Tianlao? After thinking it over… could it be something from the very top of the empire?”

Master Li, you pawnshop people—are your hearts really this black? What kind of commission? You might as well say you want my head for sacrifice. Lately, plenty have been eyeing my head. In your eyes, am I just a fool whose head can be taken whenever you please?”

His anger grew with every word.

Because he was young and had a bit of a powerful background, everyone kept dreaming of his head. His head isn’t a chamber pot—something you pull out and use whenever you feel like it.

“Has Mr. Chen misunderstood?” Manager Li still wore a smile, but it was hollow.

Chen Guanlou had exposed the truth—Manager Li no longer seemed eager to keep up the charade.

They locked eyes, neither willing to yield.

“Six hundred taels—that’s all you’re offering for my life? In your eyes, Mr. Li, my life isn’t even worth six hundred taels!” A curse burst from his lips; Chen Guanlou no longer hid his fury, nor did he care to pretend anymore.

Like a raw, reckless youth, he pointed his finger at Manager Li’s nose, letting his rage spill out openly.

Manager Li remained unmoved, even calming his gaze—he became more certain than ever: this young fool was an idiot. Idiots are easy to manipulate!

Chen Guanlou panted, “This deal’s off. No debt collection either. Master Li, lay out your terms—how do you want to settle this? Civil or martial? Just say the word.”

“Harmony brings wealth!” Manager Li burst into loud laughter.

Chen Guanlou broke into a cold sweat.

Two third-rank martial cultivators’ auras lingered nearby—peak third-rank strength. No wonder the Si-Tong Pawnshop could expand across the empire; only they could afford third-rank bodyguards. Those thugs outside were just window dressing. The real threat was their trained cultivators. If they had third-rank, who knew how many fourth- or fifth-rank they kept?

Fourth- and fifth-rank cultivators were beyond reach for ordinary people—but for a pawnshop backed by the Wang Fu and Donggong, money solved everything.

Cultivators had to eat, had to spend. Their expenses were ten to a hundred times higher than ordinary folk’s. Poor scholars, rich warriors—this truth held in every age.

Ordinary people never saw fourth- or fifth-rank cultivators—they were kept by the powerful, or served in the army. Some roamed the martial world, but they were rare, usually tied to noble houses that lifted their entire clans to glory.