Chapter 165: This Madman

Li Banfeng laughed bitterly at Pan De: "Old Pan, if I give you the prescription today, can you guarantee you'll stop the insect plague?"

Pan De sighed deeply: "How to use this prescription, and where to use it—this requires careful deliberation."

"No!" Li Banfeng knew this old devil had another trick up his sleeve. "No time for deliberation. Find the herbs, mix the medicine, kill the insects—do it as fast as you can."

"The First Ridge is in chaos right now; moving herbs will be difficult. We must wait until the turmoil there subsides before making plans."

The First Ridge was the transportation hub of Haichi Ridge; under normal circumstances, herb shipments indeed had to pass through it.

But Pan De had special means—why didn't he use them?

"Why not source the herbs from the New Lands? The local deities there should help you."

Pan De shook his head: "This is an internal matter of Haichi Ridge; we shouldn't trouble outsiders."

What kind of nonsense was that?

"Didn't you just say we were united against a common enemy? Didn't you just want to divert the plague elsewhere? Now you don't want to trouble anyone?"

Pan De still shook his head: "Earlier, to unite all regions, I had no choice but to act thus. Now that we have a strategy, we must deliberate carefully."

In truth, Pan De's logic was clear—there was no contradiction at all.

Spreading the plague to drag others into the mess—he was happy to do that.

Letting other local deities interfere in Haichi Ridge—he was unwilling to do that.

The plague must be stopped, but only if it didn't shake his position in Haichi Ridge.

Li Banfeng understood his thinking: "If you're so protective of yourself, then I won't give you the prescription."

Pan De's face darkened: "Young man, what did you just say? I didn't catch it."

Li Banfeng repeated it: "I'm not giving you the prescription."

"If you don't give me the prescription, what will you use to save the people?"

"I'll find the peddler. He'll surely have a way to move the herbs. If you won't stop the plague, I'll find someone who will."

Pan De stared at Li Banfeng and spoke slowly: "Do you believe I can keep you from leaving Haichi Ridge? Do you believe I can make you stay in Luobing Village?"

Li Banfeng's face was expressionless: "I believe you. Come then."

"You're arrogant," Pan De growled.

The wine gourd was also tense.

Has this little brother gone mad?

Why keep provoking the local deities?

She rubbed against Li Banfeng incessantly; he paid her no attention.

He really was mad.

Opposite him was the strongest presence in Haichi Ridge—even if Li Banfeng said one word of submission…

If he said even one word of submission, he'd be dead.

Pan De excelled at exploiting others' humility, guilt, and fear.

The wine gourd suddenly realized this—she stopped rubbing against Li Banfeng.

This was the correct way to deal with Pan De.

This little brother might be mad, but he wasn't wrong.

Pan De slowly calmed down.

He was angry, but not irrational.

His cultivation level was invisible—he truly didn't know what realm this young man was in.

He could test him; one glance could knock Li Banfeng unconscious—but he didn't do it.

This man was sent by Old Yao, and from his tone, he seemed close to the peddler.

To anger Old Yao over him wasn't worth it; to anger the peddler was even less worth it.

After careful thought, Pan De nodded: "Fine. I'll source the herbs from the New Lands and begin treating the plague immediately."

"Put it in writing," Li Banfeng said, pulling out paper and ink.

Pan De glanced at the blank paper and couldn't suppress his anger: "That's a covenant paper!"

"It is a covenant paper," Li Banfeng nodded. "You're thinking of backing out?"

This covenant paper was forged from Liu Liangyi's contract; though born of Honglian, its level might not be sufficient.

Doesn't matter if it's sufficient—use it anyway.

Pan De was speechless. He signed the covenant, pressed his thumbprint, then asked Li Banfeng: "You came all this way—it's not easy. I'd like to gift you a magic treasure as thanks."

Li Banfeng didn't want a magic treasure, but before he could speak, Pan De had already pulled it out.

He produced a folding fan: red bone, white surface, over a foot long, exhaling a faint ink fragrance.

Pan De told Li Banfeng: "This fan has accompanied me for years, steeped in the aura of sacred virtue. Held in hand, it's an excellent weapon for both offense and defense."

In three exchanges, it can subdue enemies with the aura of sacred virtue, drastically reducing their combat power."

In plain terms, it's the standard tactic of a Virtue Cultivator: make the opponent feel guilt and shame, causing hesitation in their strikes.

A rather interesting magic treasure.

"How much does it reduce combat power?"

It depends on the enemy's level, your own cultivation, and most importantly, the depth of your virtue. A few words can't explain it—you must realize it for yourself.

The depth of virtue means the height of your moral ground.

"What's the cost of this magic treasure?" Li Banfeng hadn't forgotten that.

"You must cultivate with this fan, meditating on the thought of sacred virtue—at least three hours daily."

Meditate?

Spend three hours a day staring blankly at a fan?

The cost wasn't heavy, and it didn't conflict with Zhai cultivation—but Li Banfeng was reluctant. Still, that wasn't the point.

After giving the magic treasure, Pan De took his leave: "Tell Old Yao I've received his favor."

Li Banfeng didn't leave Haichi Ridge—he still didn't trust Pan De.

He returned to Suishenju, took ten doses of insect medicine, and left.

The phonograph sensed an unfamiliar aura and asked: "Hey~ Master, what did you bring back?"

The fan unfolded its surface and bowed to the phonograph: "I am the Fan of Sacred Virtue. I greet you, Madam."

The voice sounded like a young man's. The phonograph sniffed: "Looks like you know the rules, but your voice is muffled."

The fan startled, cleared his throat: "It's been cold these past days—I must have caught a chill."

"A chill? Seems you really did. Your voice is so nasal," the wife chuckled.

She was reminding Li Banfeng—the fan's voice had an echo.

Why would it echo?

Because there was something hidden inside the fan's bones.

As Old Yao had said, Pan De's magic treasures might have recording functions. This fan contained something else—Li Banfeng couldn't tell what, but the wife's ears couldn't miss it.

The fan grew nervous and quickly changed the subject: "Master's residence is truly a world apart."

"Not bad, right?" Li Banfeng smiled. "I'll show you around."

"Excellent!" the fan agreed eagerly—he wanted to gather more information.

The phonograph scolded: "Master, you're taking him to see more places?"

She feared Li Banfeng hadn't understood her hint.

Li Banfeng seemed to have truly not understood.

He took the fan to the outer chamber: "What do you think?"

"Fascinating! Marvelous! Such exquisite layout—may I ask the name of this residence?"

"Don't ask for the name. Quickly meet the Second Madam."

Li Banfeng brought the fan before Honglian, who slowly opened her petals.

"What realm is this magic treasure?" the fan was stunned, eager to record every detail of Honglian.

Li Banfeng smiled: "You'll find out soon. Ah Lian—refine him."

Refine him?

Before the fan could grasp Li Banfeng's meaning, the lotus heart had already summoned a whirlwind.

To refine meant to melt down and remake.

By the time the fan realized what was happening, it was too late: "Master! Why treat me thus? I only wished to serve you! Why do you do this to me!"

The fan was drawn into the lotus heart—his cries cut off abruptly.

A layer of white mist seeped from the wine gourd, more than her earlier sweat.

This madman—he really is mad…

Chit-chit~

The phonograph laughed: "Little sister, don't fear. My man's just like this—sometimes even I can't figure him out."

Li Banfeng patted the gourd, wiped away her sweat, and left Suishenju with the insect powder.

He handed the powder to Niu Fuzhi, who thanked him profusely.

"Savior, what do you want? Whatever we have, just name it!"

Li Banfeng said: "There is one thing I'd like you to help with. You mentioned a village called Mitang still selling wine—I'd like to go see it."

He didn't want to buy wine—he had no shortage of it.

He wanted to see whether that village could still hold on.

If Old Pan refused to rescue the victims, he would find a way to do it himself.

If Lu Dongjun's side truly achieved results, that would be even better—no matter who it was, the disaster must end as soon as possible.

……

Lu Dongjun arrived at Jiangyuan Leather Factory, which had originally been Ma family property, shut down accidentally during the insect plague, and now belonged to Lu Dongjun.

Lu Dongjun still disguised himself as a branch manager and entered the factory manager's office.

The manager sat behind his desk; a wind-up phonograph played "Peaceful Spring."

"A fine night as bright as day, a new moon like a hook, joy rings across the four seas…"

A cheerful tune, yet the manager's face showed not a trace of happiness.

The factory had only just opened two days ago; with the insect plague returning, the manager was considering whether to halt operations.

Seeing someone push the door open, the manager frowned: "Who are you? What do you want? How rude!"

Lu Dongjun stepped before the manager: "I'm someone from Second Master's side. He sent me to collect payment."

"Collect payment?" The manager stared blankly for a long while.

Lu Dongjun had prepared for this—he knew empty words wouldn't get him money—and pulled out a document to hand the manager: "This is Second Master's official order."

It was indeed written in Lu Dongjun's own hand. The manager took it, glanced at it casually, and returned it.

"I don't know where you got this order, but I'm certain Lu's Second Master would never write something like this."

Lu Dongjun glared: "You're saying this order is fake?"

The manager smiled: "Even if it's real, what does it matter? This factory now belongs to the Shen family. What are you collecting from here with Lu Dongjun's order?"

"Belongs to the Shen family? Which Shen family?"

The manager frowned: "Is that your business to ask? You come to swindle money, yet didn't even bother checking the facts? At least read the newspapers."

With that, he tossed a newspaper at Lu Dongjun.

On page two was a notice: Lu Dongjun had sold Jiangyuan Leather Factory to Shen Rongqing, accompanied by a photo of the two shaking hands.

Shen Rongqing was a woman in her twenties, strikingly beautiful—but Lu Dongjun had never seen her before.

Where did this photo come from?

When did I ever shake hands with this woman?

When did I sell the factory to her?

I gave orders to sell only shares, not the factory itself!

"Where's the contract? Where's your purchase contract?" Lu Dongjun glared at the factory manager.

The manager's face darkened: "If you're going to make a living, learn some restraint. You've been exposed—why keep acting out? Before I call someone to beat you, get as far away as you can…"

Before he finished speaking, Lu Dongjun stepped forward and gripped the manager's throat: "Tell me where the contract is."

The manager couldn't speak—he had no cultivation base.

Lu Dongjun struggled to hold back, but his grip didn't release—he strangled the manager to death.

"Mountains vie in beauty, rivers race in flow, bright candles burn, the music of peace plays…"

The phonograph's song went unheard; Lu Dongjun tossed the manager aside and pondered where the contract might be.

The contract wasn't in the factory at all.

In the manager's office was a hidden compartment; Lu Dongjun found over a hundred and sixty silver dollars inside.

That was the entirety of his gain from this trip.

Lu Dongjun threw the silver dollars onto the floor, scattering them everywhere.

After a moment, he bent down and picked them up again.

He carried little cash on him, and bank checks couldn't be cashed—he hadn't expected to ever run short of money.

He collected the silver dollars and left Jiangyuan Leather Factory.

……

Half an hour later, He Jiaqing, lying in his hospital bed, received word that the Jiangyuan Leather Factory manager was dead.

Hearing the sounds of the struggle, He Jiaqing identified the attacker's identity.

The nurse had been sitting beside the bed the whole time, making He Jiaqing feel awkward.

Why is this aunt staring at me so much today?

Almost forgot—she's about to wash me. She seems to enjoy this process.

He Jiaqing suddenly opened his eyes—the nurse collapsed instantly.

He sat up and whispered softly: "Tell my father—I found Lu Dongjun."

"What about the other families?"

"Ignore them. Only my father truly wants Lu Dongjun dead."

PS: Banfeng has this temperament—I sometimes can't fathom him either.

(End of Chapter)