Chapter 14: Two Baskets of Stone

This approach threatens to overturn the entire board. As Chu Jianli put it, if you rob all the traveling merchants, who am I supposed to sell my mountain goods to?

So this Bai Shouhu was clearly brain-damaged — a freak, a heretic, a malignant tumor destroying the fine atmosphere of stability and unity around here. Thus Pingfeng Stronghold was swiftly absorbed into the circle of surrounding Old Wealthy factions, and everyone unanimously reached a consensus: they would be sworn enemies with the White Village crew.

The two sides fought and killed for years on end, blood spilled regularly. Once the fighting was done, the headmen would come out and negotiate a figure, then after a while, once they'd rested up, they'd fight again. That was the current state of affairs.

Hearing this, Cao Chuan sighed with emotion. A stronghold that seemed so calm and peaceful on the surface — yet a few words revealed several lives already lost, and likely more to follow.

Judging by these people's attitudes, such incidents were apparently routine. He had no intention of lending a hand either; the ring on his finger was the old man's trump card, meant only for life-or-death moments. Besides, this "Divine Power" of his was actually quite limited — if he moved even a little farther away, he couldn't store anything inside.

From dusk onward, mountain folk trickled into the stronghold in groups. Old farmers carried shoulder poles, while the able-bodied young men all bore knives and axes — it seemed the manpower Zhou Tong had mobilized through the stronghold's general call-up had arrived.

He and Zhao Si strolled over to the Public Storehouse to observe the legendary Grain Tax handover. There were no oversized measures as he'd imagined. Lü Accountant sat right at the entrance, a sack of the coarse salt Cao Chuan had brought placed beside him. Both sides seemed thoroughly familiar with each other; they exchanged a few joking words, Old Lü grabbed a handful of rice to inspect it, then jotted a few strokes in the ledger — done.

Once the rice and mountain tea had all been stored, the old farmers paying the grain tax pulled out a few small cloth sacks. Lü Accountant picked up a large wooden ladle and scooped salt from the salt sack, one ladle after another, while the old farmers beside him held their sacks open, staring with eager, fixed eyes.

Old Lü clearly had a number in mind. After filling only two and a half of the cloth sacks, he stopped his hand. The old farmers wouldn't accept this, and a torrent of rapid-fire local dialect poured from their mouths — the pronunciation was so bizarre that Cao Chuan didn't understand a single word.

Old Lü's face changed on the spot and he began cursing them out. After he finished cursing, he scooped another half-ladle of salt into the sacks, then shooed the old farmers away with a pained, flesh-aching expression.

The old farmers turned and noticed Cao Chuan in his strange attire. Zhao Si beside him said a couple of words, so the farmers gave Cao Chuan a bow with clasped hands. He hurriedly returned the courtesy, then watched as the old farmers tied up their salt sacks, shouldered their empty carrying poles, and headed down the mountain.

Lü Wenda finished tidying up and walked over. "Mountain folk have no experience. This sea salt of yours, sir — not a trace of bitterness. Even the banquet tables of great households could use it. If we traded for rice at the old ratios, there'd be no way to make a living."

Cao Chuan smiled. "Giving a bit more is no problem. It's not anything valuable. In a few days I'll send word — it wouldn't be hard to have the Sect ship over another batch."

Lü Wenda shook his head repeatedly at this. "Sir, you'll eventually go roaming beyond the mountains. If we give more now, it'll be hard to divide fairly later. The mountain folk are stubborn to the core — they won't care whether you're off roaming or not."

Hearing him put it that way, Cao Chuan found it awkward to interject further. After all, he truly had no intention of staying long in this stronghold.

Over the next two days, the mountain folk — farmers and bandits both — continued trickling into Pingfeng Stronghold to assemble. Zhou Tong dispatched three waves of men down the mountain as reinforcements. By his count, nearly a hundred men had been sent below; only then did Zhou Tong stop, keeping the latecomers in the stronghold.

The clamor of shouting men and barking dogs finally faded, and the stronghold seemed to return to its usual state. Yet one could still sense the undercurrent beneath the calm — evident in the young men gathering daily to sharpen blades and drill with spears, and in the scouts ceaselessly climbing the mountain to deliver reports.

Just as Cao Chuan's patience was wearing thin, Zhao Wutian finally appeared in a certain someone's longingly expectant eyes.

A small party, carrying two loads on shoulder poles and two bundles on their backs, returned travel-worn and dusty.

Cao Chuan and a few others were at Green Stone Terrace. Seeing Zhao Wutian come up, they hurriedly called for him to set down his loads. Zhao Si brought over several bowls of tea; Zhao Wutian gulped his down noisily, wiped his mouth, and said, "This is it. See if it suits your needs, sir."

Cao Chuan nodded and thanked him for the hard work. Everyone pitched in to lift the straw mats off the bamboo baskets, revealing a pile of stone material lying inside.

The stones varied in size — the largest chunks took up half a bamboo basket each, while the smaller ones were the size of a human head, three or five crammed into a single basket. All the stone shared one trait: large swaths of vivid red across their surfaces.

Before Cao Chuan could speak, Zhou Tong beside him glared and demanded, "Thirty taels of silver for two loads of rock? Wutian, explain yourself."

Zhao Wutian gave an "Oh," and hurriedly crouched down to untie the two cloth bundles. Once opened, several dozen vivid red blanks were revealed. None of these blanks were large; they had clearly undergone preliminary grinding and were similar to the two pieces Cao Chuan had sold.

Only then did Zhao Wutian explain: "These blanks are what cost the money. They were all ground down in Old Wealthy's hands — labor-intensive. The smallest still cost five mace of silver. The large pieces in the baskets I picked out myself from the rock piles. Old Wealthy Lin did the Great Lord a favor and only charged ten taels for the two loads of large pieces."

Zhou Tong laughed and cursed, "That Lin Family truly has drilled straight into the eye of a coin. Thirty taels of silver could buy a fine courtyard house in Lin'an, and we get this bit of rock? Fine, fine. We mountain folk were never going to outmaneuver Old Wealthy anyway."

"Will these stones suit your needs, sir?" Zhou Tong turned his head toward Cao Chuan.

"They suit, they all suit." Cao Chuan nodded with a smile. "My thanks to all you brothers here. There will be rewards in due time — everyone set your minds at ease."

Zhao Wutian and his men all cupped their hands and protested they dared not accept. Seeing that the gentleman was satisfied, Zhou Tong asked if another trip was needed. Cao Chuan hurriedly said what they had now was already sufficient, so Zhou Tong arranged for Lü Accountant to take the men down and distribute their rewards.

Once Zhao Wutian's group had left, Cao Chuan had Zhao Si move all the stone from the carrying baskets and pile it up, placing the several dozen blanks on top as well. Then, before the eyes of Zhou Tong and the others, he swept his sleeve — and the stones vanished without a trace.

Chu Jianli was seeing Cao Chuan use his "Divine Power" for the first time. Eyes wide, mouth agape, he twisted his head to glance at Zhou Tong, who sat there like a clay bodhisattva, then looked back at Cao Chuan, seated and smiling faintly. He seemed about to speak, then held back, finally forcing out a single sentence: "Sir, this is true divine power — you'd have a seat even in the Emperor's own household!"

"The Third Lord jests." Cao Chuan burst out laughing. "This poor Daoist came to the Great Ming for cultivation and tempering through experience, not to enter the Imperial Palace and become a state preceptor living on offerings. These days in the mountains, my insights have been many. The provisions for cultivating the Dao — the Emperor's household cannot supply them."

It seemed he had bluffed them successfully. Cao Chuan did not elaborate further on spirits, gods, or Daoist arts, instead steering the topic toward Chu Jianli himself. After this incident, the Third Master's attitude had grown far more respectful. Hearing Cao Chuan turn the conversation to him, he held nothing back and gave an account of his origins.

Chu Jianli had worked in a merchant gang since his teens, traveling far and wide year-round. That year, their caravan was crossing Mu Mountain when it was ambushed and plundered by a band of brigands. He was the sole survivor, rescued by men from Pingfeng Stronghold who arrived later.

At that time, the Mu Mountain region was an era of warlords rising together. By the time he recovered from his injuries, that band of brigands had long since been wiped out by Pingfeng Stronghold. With nowhere else to go, Chu Jianli formally took up the life of a bandit.