Chapter 112: Haggling

Shi Hong dared not slam the table at Fan Yuli, let alone dare to harbor resentment against him.

He blamed all his grievances squarely on Chen Guanlou; this entire mess was Chen Guanlou’s doing.

Unaware that his furious embarrassment and impotent rage had actually hit the truth: it had indeed been Chen Guanlou who advised Fan Yuli to burden him further.

Shi Hong had his own troubles, and Chen Guanlou had his own.

Chen Guanlou pondered how to resolve the cooperation agreement with Li Zhaoye of Sitong Bank.

He absolutely could not cooperate with Li Zhaoye.

Who knew what people were tied to those mysterious antiques, ancient paintings, and rare editions?

He even suspected that Li Zhaoye’s goods had come from the palace.

Since ancient times, there have always been bold souls in the palace stealing imperial items.

The court was short on money; the Emperor was short on money. Who could guarantee the Crown Prince or Prince Jin wasn’t short too?

Everyone loved money; money was a good thing. But money couldn’t appear out of thin air. The palace held too many valuable items—the old Emperor himself didn’t even know how many treasures he owned.

Slip a few things out unnoticed—who would find out? By the time anything came to light, years would have passed, and there’d be nothing left to investigate.

He absolutely couldn’t get involved in such a head-chopping business.

But Li Zhaoye was powerful, surrounded by elite guards; for now, he truly couldn’t think of a good solution—and he couldn’t consult anyone, lest one day, when he committed murder, someone traced it back to him. That would be disastrous.

There was one good thing, though.

Killing two third-rank martial cultivators in one night elevated his understanding of the martial path. The Sheng Tian Lu had successfully reached full completion of its second chapter the night before; he would surely break through this year.

Once he trained the third chapter of the Sheng Tian Lu, he would have the confidence to test his strength against a fourth-rank martialist.

Before he’d figured out a way to resolve it, Li Zhaoye sent word: one porcelain piece needed accounting.

Chen Guanlou told the messenger, “I must see the goods myself, otherwise I cannot process the accounts.”

The messenger was a sturdy man in his early thirties; according to his own introduction, he was a distant relative of Li Zhaoye.

“Chen Tou, you didn’t make this deal with Li Zhaoye like this. No need to see the goods—just process the accounts. That’s the rule.”

Chen Guanlou chuckled coldly. “You talk to me about rules? You’re not qualified.”

The man flew into a rage. A mere jailer like Chen Tou dared to look down on him? Utterly ungrateful. Li Zhaoye’s assessment of him was spot-on: a bully who cowers before strength. Don’t be polite—go straight for force.

He slammed the table and roared, “Chen Tou, don’t be foolish. Li Zhaoye is giving you a chance—you have no right to refuse. You must cooperate fully. Cooperate well, and we’ll all feast together. If you entertain any other thoughts, don’t blame us for being ruthless. Opposing Sitong Bank brings no benefit. You’re young, naive, and impulsive. I’ll forgive you this once. Retract your words immediately and cooperate properly. I’ll act as if nothing happened.”

Chen Guanlou sneered. Indeed, from start to finish, the man had never taken him seriously—he’d only seen him as a tool.

If you’re a tool, you can be replaced anytime. A head can be taken anytime. This business is too dangerous, Chen Guanlou thought.

Once you get your hands dirty, extricating yourself becomes impossibly hard. What right did he, a lowly nobody, have to touch palace items? Li Zhaoye overestimated him terribly.

He even suspected this was a setup—a trap using him to frame Hou Fu. But he was inside the trap, unable to see its full shape or read the minds behind it.

Hou Fu’s stance was unclear too: supposedly supporting the old Emperor, yet still opposing Jiang Tu, angering the Emperor.

If they supported the Crown Prince, then Master Du had said the Elder Lord hadn’t paid his respects at the Eastern Palace in years.

No matter what scheme they were hatching, he had to stall—until he found a way out.

Seeing the goods wasn’t just for delay; to understand their intent, he needed deeper insight.

He insisted, “I must see the goods myself, or there’s no deal. If you’re so capable, find someone else to handle your accounts. Come on, the ledger’s right here—why don’t you write it yourself? I’ll even give you my position. Accounting’s simple—just a few strokes and it’s done.”

“Chen Tou, you insist on this? Don’t you remember how you promised Li Zhaoye? Don’t you fear being held accountable and ending up in chains?”

“I’m terrified—I’m absolutely terrified. I’m scared to death. But even if I’m going to die, at least let me die knowing why.” Chen Guanlou chuckled coldly. Without the pressure of two third-rank martialists, he had nothing to fear.

Call him a bully who cowers before strength, call him ungrateful—it was still his life. He didn’t know Li Zhaoye’s exact goal, but he was certain of one thing: Li Zhaoye had no intention of killing him yet.

With that leverage, he would seize the chance to haggle and win himself bargaining power.

“You want me to handle a porcelain piece with no details—where it came from, who it’s going to? Everything’s decided by you. If something goes wrong and they investigate, I’m the one who’ll be crushed. I’m happy to cooperate with Li Zhaoye. But you need to show a little sincerity—then we can resolve this smoothly. What do you say?”

“I can’t decide this.”

“Then go ask the person who can. Your time is precious—I won’t waste it. Please.” Chen Guanlou offered tea and saw him out, politely ushering him away.

Li Zhaoye seemed eager to offload the goods; the next day he replied: Chen Guanlou could inspect them—at Sitong Bank’s shop. They’d receive him at noon, as agreed.

Chen Guanlou didn’t hesitate—he invited Master Du and headed to Sitong Bank.

Along the way, Master Du trembled, as if walking toward a precipice.

“That’s Sitong Bank! What luck have we drawn to attract them? They’re making you handle accounts—those goods are definitely illicit. What will we do when it all comes out?”

Chen Guanlou remained calm, appearing utterly composed. “Master Du, don’t panic. When we get to the bank, we’ll adapt as we go.”

“How will you adapt?”

“Watch my eyes.”

Master Du blinked, bewildered.

Chen Guanlou smiled at him, radiating confidence.

Master Du felt uneasy, unsure how to argue—but they were already there. Better to see the goods first.

Two people’s deal couldn’t rest on Chen Guanlou alone. If disaster struck, he was willing to step forward. He was just an old man—his life was already well-lived. With Chen Guanlou’s character, he’d surely care for his family after death.

Seeing Master Du’s grim expression, as if marching to execution, Chen Guanlou laughed. “Master Du, don’t be so serious. Don’t worry—I guarantee nothing will happen today.”

“How can you guarantee it?”

“The mountain sage has his own clever plan.”