Chapter 213: The Con Artist Sect

No wonder Li Banfeng felt this man was familiar.

No wonder Li Banfeng felt the entire village was familiar.

Tiemenbao, the gathering place for Zhai Xiu.

Li Banfeng couldn't quite understand how this gathering place had come into existence.

Zhai Xiu avoided contact with others; the very idea of "gathering" was extremely difficult for them.

Moreover, Zhai Xiu each had fixed homes and never moved easily; getting them to live together was unimaginable.

Tiemenbao did exist, and the number of Zhai Xiu living here was considerable; Li Banfeng looked out and saw house after house stretching endlessly.

A quarrel interrupted Li Banfeng's thoughts.

A young woman came to buy rice, rummaged through the sack, and found plenty of sand.

The woman confronted the old man driving the donkey cart: "Every time I buy rice from you, there's sand—more and more each time. This is outrageous."

The old man snorted: "Grain is transported from far away; a little dirt, a bit of sand—it's normal."

"If you're so delicate, don't eat rice—eat meat every day. Meat doesn't have sand."

The old man was shameless and unreasonable, but the woman didn't argue; she lowered her head and left.

Zhai Xiu seemed bad at quarreling; they'd grit their teeth and just refuse to buy from him.

But would buying from someone else be better?

It was the same everywhere.

There was another cart vendor in the fortress selling grain, and his rice and flour were also adulterated.

And their prices were high; in Puluozhou, because of Geng Xiu, grain had always been cheap—even in Lüshuicheng, a jin of rice cost about one yuan and eighty fen.

Here, it was sold for two yuan and fifty fen.

It wasn't just rice; other goods were sold too.

There were vendors selling cotton, fabric, rouge, newspapers, paper and writing tools, daily necessities.

There were barbers who came to the door; they didn't enter homes, just stood at the threshold. Zhai Xiu brought their own small stools, sat outside, and the barber wrapped a large cloth around them and began shaving—then charged after finishing, no hair washing included; Zhai Xiu returned home to clean up themselves.

There were also men who collected chamber pots: they took away last night's pot and replaced it with a clean one, charging each time.

All were door-to-door services.

If these Zhai Xiu never went out, how did they make a living?

Li Banfeng soon noticed something.

The merchants coming to Tiemenbao didn't just sell goods—they also bought them.

The middle-aged woman selling fabric collected many finished garments and embroidered pieces, with excellent craftsmanship.

The vendor selling miscellaneous goods collected many pottery and porcelain items, all exquisitely made.

One Zhai Xiu was especially skilled at making smoking pipes; several vendors waited outside his door for deliveries, and his business was thriving.

The newspaper vendor had sharp eyes—he collected paintings, acquiring over a dozen, all with exquisite brushwork.

This meant one thing: the Zhai Xiu who painted these likely had reached the fourth level.

Due to technique, fourth-level Zhai Xiu inevitably had superb painting skills—though exceptions existed; Li Banfeng's own painting was slightly inferior…

Unconsciously, Li Banfeng wandered Tiemenbao for over an hour, unwilling to leave.

Tiemenbao made Li Banfeng feel comfortable—uniquely, indescribably comfortable.

Of course, there were things he disapproved of: the merchants charged far above market prices for goods, yet paid far below market rates when buying.

This left Zhai Xiu with meager profits.

Of course, door-to-door trade naturally carried higher margins, but adulterating grain with sand? Li Banfeng found that excessive.

He wanted to teach those grain sellers a lesson, when suddenly a cry came from behind.

"Oh no~"

A girl fell to the ground, scattering flowers and a cane everywhere.

This wasn't an ordinary cane—it was a blind man's bamboo probe. Wu Laotai from Fuli Academy had poor eyesight in her later years and once used one.

The girl was blind, likely a flower seller.

Judging by the scene, someone had knocked her down, scattering flowers everywhere.

Who had knocked her down?

Li Banfeng looked up—it was someone he recognized: the young man who had given him directions.

The man had just sold two paintings and was chasing the fabric vendor to buy some cloth; he accidentally knocked the girl over.

"My flowers…" the girl groped on the ground, her hands streaked with blood.

The young man hurried to pick up the flowers, sweat pouring down his face.

Zhai Xiu feared trouble, but they feared causing trouble even more.

Zhai Xiu feared being harmed, but they feared unintentionally harming others even more.

Especially such a pitiful girl.

The scattered flowers were muddy, broken-stemmed, or missing leaves.

The young man picked them up one by one, placing them gently in her hands, repeatedly apologizing.

"It's fine, it's fine…" the girl wiped her tears, struggled to stand, limped, and continued selling flowers.

"Buy flowers~ who wants fresh flowers?"

Those two calls, soft, sorrowful, trembling with suppressed sobs, shattered the young man.

"Miss, wait—I'll buy your flowers." He chased after her.

"How many…?" the girl asked timidly.

"I'll buy them all!"

She carried over a hundred flowers—big and small—he bought them all.

Some cost three yuan, others five; hundreds of yuan vanished.

He'd just earned a few hundred from selling paintings, and now it was all gone.

Of course he was pained—he trembled with every breath.

But he still pulled out the money; otherwise, he couldn't pass this inner barrier.

The girl took the money, a faint smile appeared on her face, and her vacant eyes seemed to gain a glimmer of life.

"Brother, thank you. You're a good person."

The young man shook his head: "I… just walk slowly, be careful on the road."

The girl gripped her blind man's bamboo, tapping as she went.

The young man stood behind, gazing after her until her figure vanished completely, then carried the flowers back to his home.

What a romantic chance encounter.

But Li Banfeng felt nothing romantic.

He noticed only three things.

First, most of the flowers the girl sold were common roadside wildflowers; Li Banfeng, as a Lv Xiu, knew them well—he could pick armfuls from any patch of grass. Selling such flowers at this price was downright unscrupulous.

Second, the flowers weren't broken by the fall—many were already damaged. The young man focused only on the girl and missed this, but Li Banfeng noticed.

Third, the girl didn't know how to use the blind man's bamboo. When caring for Wu Laotai, Li Banfeng had studied its use carefully: it swept side to side to probe the path—not like her random poking.

Li Banfeng frowned slightly; a nearby vendor of miscellaneous goods chuckled: "You figured it out, didn't you? She's fake—a little tramp. With her youth, why not learn something useful? She has to learn this."

Li Banfeng looked at the woman: "Do you know her?"

The woman nodded: "That tramp is Sui Donglan. She's educated, can read and write. Supposedly, she once had a job in the city."

But later she got hooked on gambling, lost all her possessions on the table, and ran up debts—came to Tiemenbao to hide from creditors and scam money."

Today she's a flower girl, tricking naive young men; tomorrow she'll dress as a beggar and fool the soft-hearted.

Yesterday she dressed in flashy clothes, claiming she was a prostitute; an old bachelor got scammed out of nearly ten thousand yuan—and didn't even get to touch her. You tell me, how shameless is she?"

Li Banfeng nodded slightly: "She's shameless."

A nearby cigarette vendor snorted: "Zhou Yu beat Huang Gai—one willing, one willing to be beaten. What can you expect? These Zhai Xiu are easy to fool."

The woman disliked this: "What do you mean 'easy to fool'? They just don't have evil intentions! If you really talk about strength, how many Dao sects can match them?"

This is still their own doorstep—if they truly wanted to strike, which scammer could escape?"

The man shook his head: "They don't even have the thought to strike."

"Don't they? Don't you remember how those con artists died?"

The man lit a cigarette: "Those con artists were despicable. Killing them was right."

Li Banfeng stared in shock for a long while, then asked: "What are con artists?"

"Dao sects!" said the miscellaneous goods vendor. "You've never heard of con artists? They pretend to be anything—act so convincingly, you can't tell the difference."

But weren't all fools dead?

Then how are there con artists?

Fool is fool, con artist is con artist—could these two really not be the same Dao sect?

Li Banfeng asked: "Pretend to be anything? Is Sui Donglan also a con artist?"

The miscellaneous goods vendor scoffed: "She wishes she were. But for some reason, she never meets the peddler."

Last time the peddler came to Tiemenbao, she arrived too late and missed him.

The time before that, she made it—but the peddler didn't enter Tiemenbao, and there were no other customers around.

Sui Donglan didn't recognize the peddler, thought he was just another vendor, didn't even look at him—and missed him.

She was furious afterward! That's why they say her fate is just bad."

The cigarette seller shook his head. "Not fate—I reckon the peddler's deliberately avoiding her. This girl's too cunning; if she joins the trick-cultivators, she'll turn into a spirit!"

Li Banfeng asked the peddler woman: "You said Sui Donglan didn't recognize the peddler last time?"

The peddler woman nodded.

Li Banfeng picked up a rattle from her stall: "Who would buy this? Kids of cultivation families?"

The woman laughed. "No need to sell to kids—cultivation families themselves love playing with these things."

Li Banfeng glanced at the feather duster beside the rattle: "This thing's pretty fun too."

"I'll take your whole cart—figure out the price."

The woman froze, not quite catching his words: "You said you want the whole cart?"

Li Banfeng nodded. "I'll take your cart too."

…

Sui Donglan left Tiemenbao and stopped pretending to be blind.

At a deserted spot, she set down her blind man's cane, wiped the blood from her hands, and began counting money.

The blood on her hands was fake; the wounds from her fall were fake; the flowers she sold were plucked at random from roadside wilds.

These flowers couldn't be sold to women—even female cultivation practitioners could tell they were low-grade.

But selling to men was much easier, because men only looked at her face, not her flowers.

She'd sold half the flowers; the rest she didn't want to sell, so she found a fool to offload them to.

The cultivation practitioner who had pointed her to Li Banfeng was the fool she'd targeted—she bumped into him, fell to the ground, smeared red ink on her hands, and the act was complete.

Cultivation practitioners were easy to fool; even after being tricked, they never realized they'd been tricked, and even if they did, they never told anyone. Sui Donglan had used this trick many times.

But tomorrow she couldn't pretend to be blind—it was too obvious.

What should she pretend to be tomorrow?

As she pondered, she suddenly heard drumming beside her ear.

Ding le guang dang, ding le guang dang.

"Foreign soap, snow cream, foreign matches, candles, and iron shovels! A cart of fine goods, time-tested brand—take your pick once you've paid!"

"Peddler!" Sui Donglan's eyes lit up; she rushed to the roadside and saw a man pushing a cart, wearing a felt hat with its brim pulled low, beating a rattle and shouting.

Was this really the peddler?

The shouting was unmistakable—exactly as Old Yu, the cloth peddler, had described.

But the timing was wrong! Why was he here now?

Sui Donglan grew suspicious, then remembered something else.

Old Zhang, the charcoal seller, had once said the peddler sometimes didn't come on schedule—meeting him was pure luck.

Looks like my luck's finally turned.

Sui Donglan approached the peddler, blushing softly, speaking in a quiet voice: "Are you the peddler?"

Li Banfeng nodded. "Do you even need to ask?"

Sui Donglan lowered her voice: "Do you have spirit powder?"

"Got it!" Li Banfeng pulled out two pickled vegetable jars. "Jin Xiu: one hundred yuan. Trick-cultivator: three hundred thousand. Which one do you want?"

PS: No drawers in the cart—pickled vegetable jars will do.

Just wonder if the peddler will be angry.

(End of Chapter)