Chapter 28: Chapter Twenty-Three: How to Set the Price?

Yan assistant escorted Chen Yan home; before parting, Chen Yan told him: “I need to think carefully about Mr. Fang’s matter, do the math. Wait a while—if I find a way, I’ll contact you.”

Yan assistant left with countless thanks. After closing the door, Chen Yan walked into the living room, pulled out the two A4-paper-wrapped items from his chest, spread them on the coffee table, and fell into deep thought.

One sheet held the sandalwood incense stick he had taken—already broken into two pieces during the journey.

The other sheet held a small pinch of incense ash.

Chen Yan began pondering a question.

This money—

Should I take it or not?

·

The issue lies in this sandalwood incense.

Chen Yan had studied the basic identification methods in the appraisal section of the secret manual, especially the authentication of materials used in talisman casting, and had memorized them well.

This sandalwood incense had a yellow thread and looked like the most common type on the market—but Chen Yan’s Qi perception could faintly sense a trace of lingering resentment!

He broke off a piece of the incense, rubbed it between his fingers until it turned to pulp, then pinched the ash and compared both sides.

“Mixed with a bit of bone powder?”

The appraisal section mentioned this method: grind the bones of a being filled with resentment after death into powder, then… this substance could be used to release resentment.

But this method was cruel, not orthodox, so the appraisal section only described how to identify it, not how to make it.

Such a thing was called “resentment bone powder.”

Some of these were powerful, others weak.

The most vicious kind recorded in the manual was made from the bones of a stillborn infant—born too early to live, its resentment was strongest, making the resentment bone powder exceptionally vile and potent.

At best, it brought unrest to the household, endless illness and misfortune, eventually destroying the family.

But such things were rare, and the method was too evil and difficult to perform—only deep-seated dark cultivators who walked the shadowed path would create them.

The ordinary kind was easy to obtain.

Use animal bones ground into powder as a substitute.

But what kind of animal bone replaced the infant’s bones? Most people would never guess.

—Pig bones.

·

Pigs were common livestock consumed by ordinary households.

But few knew pigs were actually highly intelligent animals.

People say dogs understand human nature, that they are humanity’s friends, loyal companions.

In truth, pigs are even more intelligent than dogs.

Among all mammals, pigs rank among the highest in intelligence.

They understand human nature better than dogs.

With considerable intelligence and a touch of spiritual sensitivity, they naturally developed emotional fluctuations.

Using pigs to make 【resentment bone powder】 was far easier.

First, such livestock materials were easy to obtain.

The process was also less difficult.

Simply slaughter a pig, skin and butcher it, leave only the skeleton, then grind and refine it.

One pig could yield several catties of this resentment bone powder.

According to the manual, many tricksters and swindlers in the underworld favored using this to harm others.

Its effects were far milder than those of infant-bone resentment powder, and its harm was lesser.

After all, the level of resentment was lower, so the effects were weaker.

Prolonged exposure to this resentment merely caused lethargy, insomnia, anxiety, or occasional minor illnesses.

·

The incense stick in Chen Nuo’s hand—this resentment bone powder mixed into sandalwood incense, somehow delivered to Mr. Fang.

Mr. Fang liked to appear refined and occasionally lit one to calm his mind.

Thus, the resentment slowly corroded and contaminated him, causing him to suffer occasional bad luck.

The situation was clear now… someone was harming him.

Chen Yan narrowed his eyes in thought: the question was whether he should intervene.

·

The benefit of intervening was simple: money.

Mr. Fang paid ten thousand for a broken Luo Pan—if Chen Yan solved this problem for him, he’d surely receive another substantial sum.

But the downside: he’d make an enemy.

Someone was secretly harming Mr. Fang; if they could use this method, they were clearly no ordinary person—perhaps even a cultivator.

If Chen Yan saved Mr. Fang, and the enemy found out and traced it back to him…

He had no blood ties or connection to Mr. Fang; there was no real reason to make an enemy just for money.

And the enemy might very well be a cultivator of evil.

Money was tempting, but he didn’t lack money right now.

As he pondered, Chen Yan suddenly remembered the sandalwood incense stick he’d seen in Mr. Fang’s office.

The simple, ancient cloud-pattern wrapping on that paper tube.

Chen Yan frowned: Luo Yun Zhai?

·

Early the next morning.

Chen Yan put on a down jacket, deliberately turned up the collar, and wore a mask before stepping out.

He took a ride-hailing car straight to Mount Qixia.

Mount Qixia was in Jiangbei; Jin Ling city spanned both south and north of the river, so reaching Mount Qixia required crossing the river—a long journey.

Mount Qixia had long been famous, home to a thousand-year-old temple with consistently heavy incense offerings.

Thanks to the thriving incense, nearby industries had grown over the years.

Outside the temple, a district gradually formed, selling antiques and treasures, calligraphy and paintings, and also practitioners of mysticism—fortune-tellers, physiognomists.

Where there was demand, there was foot traffic; where there was foot traffic, catering businesses sprang up.

Over time, it became a bustling commercial street.

With the year-end approaching, people across Dragon Country flocked to pray and worship—crowds grew even thicker.

Chen Yan didn’t enter the temple; instead, he wandered the commercial street all morning, even ate lunch at a famous vegetarian restaurant.

In that morning, he gathered the information he needed: the address of Luo Yun Zhai and some general details.

It wasn’t hard to find out—most practitioners of feng shui, divination, and physiognomy in the area were independents—nearly all of them frauds.

But a few had their own shops, courtyards, and large businesses, claiming lineage—true or false, no one knew.

Still, they presented themselves as legitimate and professional.

In the entire street, perhaps three or five such places existed.

Luo Yun Zhai was the most famous among them. Chen Nuo had heard that its protective talismans were highly effective, that it housed a master, and that its fortune-telling and physiognomy were unparalleled—it was also renowned for feng shui consultations.

Many business owners came seeking its services.

Chen Yan had heard similar rumors scattered around the streets.

It was ironic… right beside it stood a massive, bustling Buddhist temple.

Yet here, people practiced feng shui, divination, and physiognomy.

That wasn’t even the same path as the Buddhist monks.

But the people of Dragon Country had always believed in everything—didn’t care about such distinctions.

·

In the afternoon, Chen Yan sat on the second floor of a street-side teahouse, choosing a window seat, and ordered a pot of tea—the shop claimed it was Biluochun.

Chen Yan couldn’t tell good tea from bad, and the second floor was nearly empty, so he sat leisurely, watching across the street.

Across from him was Luo Yun Zhai.

·

From the second-floor window, he could roughly make out the outline of Luo Yun Zhai:

The front was a shop selling antiques, treasures, talismans, and carvings for warding off evil.

Someone sat inside, offering fortune-telling and physiognomy.

Behind the shop were two courtyards.

Chen Yan sat there for nearly an hour, using the Heavenly Eye Qi Observation technique, scanning the entire compound of Luo Yun Zhai over ten times.

He confirmed one thing… there was not a single trace of Qi fluctuation inside Luo Yun Zhai!

Chen Yan frowned inwardly—this was strange.

If someone could devise such a scheme to harm others, how could their home show no trace of magical activity?

At the very least, their own spiritual grounds should have some kind of array.

Even the simplest Qi-gathering and fortune-enhancing array—why not set one up?

He glanced at the shelf on the teahouse’s second floor: an incense burner with incense sticks lit, and beside it sat a tube of sandalwood incense—the packaging was identical to the one he’d found in Mr. Fang’s office.

Earlier, he’d feigned small talk with the staff, who told him this incense was bought from the opposite shop—Luo Yun Zhai.

Of course, the sandalwood here is the most ordinary kind, with no additives.

But from the packaging alone, it’s clear there’s no doubt.

The Lu Yun Zhai’s methods are downright despicable.

They send this cursed sandalwood to Boss Fang to bring bad luck, then show up later to “solve” the problem.

The money they make… it’s soul-corrupting.

Chen Yan shook his head.

Fine then!

Boss Fang, I’ve at least taken your hundred thousand yuan.

·

As for Chen Yan’s character, if you say he’s selfish, there’s truth to that.

If you say he’s cold, he certainly is—he grew up with the Old Grandma, no father, no mother, no relatives. His personality is quite reclusive.

But one thing: he still adheres to a certain sense of rules and morality.

Not much, but a little.

Chen Yan didn’t want to make an enemy over Boss Fang. But he thought: I’ve taken Boss Fang’s hundred thousand yuan.

Should I give him just a useless broken Luo Pan?

Wouldn’t that be pure fraud?

It wouldn’t be right to cheat outright.

He learned the Old Grandma’s arts, and her manual laid down rules.

It wasn’t “take money, remove disaster.”

I, Bao Ba, may eat your king’s salary, but you tell me to capture Master Tang and his disciples—do you think I’ve got the power to do that?

So the Old Grandma’s rule didn’t demand disaster removal.

It was: take money, lend effort.

Whether the task succeeds or not, you still owe some effort.

So today, Chen Yan came just to check the situation first.

If everyone at Lu Yun Zhai is just a bunch of ignorant fools, pure frauds who somehow learned this trick…

Then Chen Yan could safely take Boss Fang’s money.

If Lu Yun Zhai truly has a master inside.

Then Chen Yan would return the hundred thousand to Boss Fang, admit his skills are insufficient, and stay out of this matter.

His bottom line isn’t high, but he still has one.

·

After refilling the tea twice, when the pot had lost all flavor, Chen Yan, sitting on the second floor, saw a familiar figure walk out of Lu Yun Zhai across the street—it was Luo Qing.

Watching Luo Qing get into a car and leave, Chen Yan finally stood up and went downstairs.

He pulled up the collar of his down jacket and put on his mask—many people dressed like this in winter, so it wasn’t conspicuous.

Chen Yan crossed the street and walked boldly into Lu Yun Zhai.

Pretending to be a random tourist, he wandered around the shop, looking here and there.

These kinds of shops never had many customers; Chen Yan deliberately made the clerk show him several talismans—all useless trinkets.

He pretended to browse, waiting until the other two customers left.

The shop now held only himself, the clerk who served him, and a man waiting for a fortune-telling session.

The fortune-teller sat in a side room, separated from the main area by a screen.

Chen Yan pretended to haggle with the clerk over a stone statue of a Pixiu, then asked the clerk to turn and fetch another item from the shelf.

As the clerk turned, Chen Yan swiftly glanced around—no one nearby, and behind the curtain he could faintly hear the fortune-teller playing with his phone…

Chen Yan lifted his eyes to the target he’d already observed—the wooden plaque on the wall, inscribed with four large characters: Zi Qi Dong Lai.

In a flash, Chen Yan pulled a prepared object from his pocket, infused it with Qi, and flicked it with his finger!

Shhh!

Something flew onto the plaque, landing precisely behind it.

Chen Yan feigned walking to the side, looked up from beneath the plaque’s edge, and confirmed the object was lodged behind the surface.

The angle was tricky; ordinary people wouldn’t notice unless they deliberately stood there and looked up.

The object Chen Yan flicked was something he’d prepared at home last night.

A thin wooden tablet, the size of a cigarette pack, with a talisman pasted on it.

The talisman was drawn on yellow paper with cinnabar, its script copied from the secret manual.

This was a [Jie Yun Cui Sun Talisman].

Its effect was similar to the Jie Yun technique Chen Yan had used before.

His cultivation was still shallow; he could only draw three or five talismans. This one, he’d tried three times at home before succeeding.

It had a time limit—once infused with Qi, its effect activated immediately.

And it would fade naturally after about two days.

Now, standing in the shop, Chen Yan could clearly sense, through his Qi, a faint thread of Cui Sun energy slowly leaking from behind the plaque. Whoever absorbed too much of this energy would suffer misfortune—inevitably catching minor illnesses or accidents.

The effect wasn’t powerful—but this was Chen Yan’s test.

Anyone with cultivation, with Qi, standing in this shop, would sense this Cui Sun energy!

Ordinary people wouldn’t notice, but anyone with cultivation would see it like a light in darkness—even faint, it was unmistakable.

Chen Yan planned to return in two days.

If the talisman was gone from behind the plaque, it meant Lu Yun Zhai, though full of frauds, also had a skilled insider who found and removed it—then Chen Yan would drop the matter.

If, after two days, the talisman was still behind the plaque,

Then it meant not a single expert was inside—they hadn’t even noticed it!

Then, there was nothing to fear!

The clerk turned back, handed Chen Yan the item he’d asked for. Chen Yan glanced at it briefly and found a flaw.

But to avoid drawing attention, he didn’t leave empty-handed—he deliberately bought a cheap talisman: fifty yuan.

A tiny, stone-carved Pixiu, poorly carved.

The clerk boasted it had been blessed by a nearby ancient temple—Chen Yan didn’t believe a single word.

Leaving Lu Yun Zhai, Chen Yan headed home.

·

The next day, Chen Yan sat at home meditating and cultivating Qi; when bored, he practiced drawing talismans in his study.

Assistant Yan called to ask if he should visit Boss Fang’s home; Chen Yan made an excuse that his new Luo Pan wasn’t ready yet, postponing it two days.

·

On the third day, Chen Yan went again to Mount Qixia’s Lu Yun Zhai.

When he entered, the clerk had changed—he sat slumped, yawning, and barely greeted Chen Yan, not even moving from his seat.

Chen Yan pretended to browse the counter, wandered around, then walked to the side and looked up at the “Zi Qi Dong Lai” plaque behind it.

In the crack, his talisman was still there.

Chen Yan showed no reaction and left Lu Yun Zhai.

Two days passed, and his low-level talisman, tossed into their shop, went unnoticed by everyone coming and going?

Chen Yan smiled. It seemed Lu Yun Zhai had no real masters.

Leaving the commercial street, he hailed a cab, sat inside, and dialed a number.

Not Assistant Yan—Boss Fang’s number.

“Boss Fang, still recovering in the hospital?” Chen Yan smiled. “I’ve got something to discuss with you—yes, alone, just the two of us.”

Boss Fang, on the other end, seemed to sense something—he spoke seriously: “Alright, then please come to the hospital, Chen Laoshi. I’ll wait for you in my room—don’t worry, just the two of us. Assistant Yan isn’t here today.”

“Fine, I’ll be there soon.” Chen Yan hung up, already calculating in his mind.

Hmm… how much should I ask Boss Fang for this time?

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【Two chapters today, finished. Please collect and vote.】

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