[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-lord-of-the-proles":3,"chapter-lord-of-the-proles-lord-of-the-proles-chapter-27":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Lord of the Proles",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2290325,4478,"Chapter 27: Buying Weapons","lord-of-the-proles-chapter-27",27,"\u003Cp>Li Banfeng and Qin Xiaopang agreed on the deal and prepared to go to Kuwu Mountain to harvest Snake-Spotted Chrysanthemums.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That night, Qin Xiaopang returned home to pack his belongings and invited Li Banfeng to stay at his house for the night; Li Banfeng politely declined.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Residential cultivators must remain inside their residences for at least two hours daily—that was the most basic cultivation rule, and Qiao Yuesheng’s example stood as proof; Li Banfeng dared not break it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They agreed to meet at the noodle shop at eight the next day, but Li Banfeng had no watch or any timekeeping device; by the time he arrived, it was nearly noon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t Li Banfeng’s fault for oversleeping—in the Suishenju, there was no distinction between day and night, and his sleep quality was simply too good.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang was anxious: “Brother Li, why are you only here now? We need to hurry—first, let’s go to Ligou.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why go to Ligou?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“To buy some proper tools.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng was puzzled: “Aren’t we going up the mountain to pick herbs? Isn’t a shovel and a sack enough? Do we really need to buy anything in Ligou?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang shook his head: “No time—when we get there, I’ll explain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang treated Li Banfeng to two bowls of Yangchun noodles, ate eight himself, then, fully energized, they ran together to Ligou.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng used only three-tenths of his strength; Qin Xiaopang struggled to keep up behind him. Food cultivators, once fed, far surpassed ordinary people in speed and endurance, barely matching travel cultivators.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Earlier, walking slowly from Ligou had taken Li Banfeng most of the day; now, running back, he arrived in under two hours.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang, out of breath, led Li Banfeng straight to Paifang Street.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As soon as they stepped onto the street, Li Banfeng grew tense—He Family’s old mansion was nearby, and Lu Xiaolan was still inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang knew nothing of the He Family mansion; he was headed for Feng’s General Store.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The shopkeeper, wielding a feather duster, was cleaning the shelves; seeing them enter, he immediately smiled and greeted them: “Master Qin, haven’t seen you lately—this guest, another favor from you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He recognized Qin Xiaopang and also recognized Li Banfeng—Li Banfeng still wore the hat he’d bought from him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang had no time for pleasantries: “Master Feng, got any good tools? I’m heading out on a job.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang’s business wasn’t something to discuss at the counter; Master Feng called over a clerk to watch the shop and said to Li Banfeng and Qin Xiaopang: “Gentlemen, please step inside for tea.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng and Qin Xiaopang followed Master Feng into the back room—what he called the back room was even more crowded than the front, shelves stacked high with goods; if not for the tea table in the center, it would’ve been nothing but a warehouse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The three sat beside the tea table; Master Feng poured tea and lowered his voice: “Forgive me for being nosy—but may I ask, what kind of business are you two undertaking?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Kuwu Mountain—picking flowers,” Qin Xiaopang answered directly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng paused briefly, then took down a small sickle from the shelf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The blade was no longer than ten centimeters; the handle was even shorter, just enough for one hand to grip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang stared at the delicate sickle, stunned for a moment: “Master Feng, why are you giving me this sickle? This thing won’t even cut wheat.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng was equally surprised: “Master Qin, aren’t you going up Kuwu Mountain to pick flowers? This sickle is perfect for that.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang frowned: “I don’t treat you as an outsider—you’re treating me like a fool. If I wanted a sickle, I wouldn’t come to you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng looked helpless: “Master Qin, you said you wanted to pick flowers—I gave you a tool for picking flowers. Where did I go wrong?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang snapped: “Are you really not getting it, or are you pretending not to? Do you think those flowers on Kuwu Mountain are just any old thing you can pluck?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng shook his head rapidly: “This time, I truly don’t understand. Take the sickle if you want it; if not, forget it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Amid their argument, Li Banfeng caught on to something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang knew a little about Kuwu Mountain’s secrets—but not much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He understood a bit of underworld rules—but only a little.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng had grown up in Fuli Academy, working odd jobs to pay for university; he’d met many people, seen many things—he instantly recognized the real old hand: Master Feng.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng quickly intervened: “Brother, I don’t get it either—what exactly are you trying to buy?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang frowned: “A weapon!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why buy a weapon?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang gave only one explanation: “The flowers are easy to pick; the mountain is hard to descend.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That one sentence clarified everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Snake-Spotted Chrysanthemums were valuable; many wanted to pick them, and likely many more wanted to steal them—Qin Xiaopang wanted a weapon for self-defense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng clearly understood Qin Xiaopang’s meaning and replied in kind: “A sickle helps you descend; a Green Dragon Blade makes the descent impossible.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng asked: “What do you mean?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The shopkeeper smiled: “A man with a sickle is a farmer; a man with a Green Dragon Blade is Lord Guan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A farmer walks quietly, perhaps encountering a lone bandit—one slash, and the matter is settled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lord Guan walks with his Green Dragon Blade—he must pass five passes and slay six generals. Without Lord Guan’s skill, can you even make it down the mountain?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he spoke, the shopkeeper brushed his thumb along the sickle’s edge; Li Banfeng, who knew his tools, recognized it as a fine blade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng said: “How much for this blade? I’ll buy it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang stared, wide-eyed: “What’s the use of buying this? Let’s go elsewhere—I’ve got connections.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng made no effort to stop him: “Master Qin, go elsewhere then. I don’t have the weapon you’re looking for.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng was a good man—he didn’t want to get Qin Xiaopang killed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng insisted on buying the sickle; the shopkeeper asked five hundred. Li Banfeng didn’t haggle—he planned to borrow five hundred from Qin Xiaopang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang winced: “This thing costs five hundred?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng’s purse was tight; Master Feng noticed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The day before, this young man had bought a hat and a feather duster from him after being shown the way—Master Feng remembered clearly: this was a reasonable man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Young man, may I ask your name?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng replied: “I’m Li, called Li Qi.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Master Li, I’ll let you take this blade on credit—pay me when you return from picking flowers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On credit?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng’s smile didn’t fade: “You’re a man who gets things done—I trust you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng thanked him and took the sickle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng pulled a small shovel from beneath the counter—its blade was over ten centimeters long—and handed it to Li Banfeng: “Some flowers root deep and are hard to pull—would this shovel suit you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng took the shovel, examined its shape, felt its edge, and asked: “How much for this shovel?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng smiled: “In material and craftsmanship, this shovel’s better than the sickle. Normally, eight hundred wouldn’t be too much—but you’re a discerning buyer. If you think it’s right, seven hundred—take it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Seven hundred…” Li Banfeng hesitated—the item was excellent, but taking more credit felt inappropriate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng understood Li Banfeng’s predicament: “Take it and use it. If it suits you, bring the money. If not, bring it back.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng accepted the shovel and then asked if he could buy a few cloth bags.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng gave him two: “Two bags are enough—flowers are easy to pick, hard to carry down.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng took the advice; Master Feng smiled: “Is there anything else you need?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Suishenju had no windows—no sun or moon, no day or night—Li Banfeng wanted to buy a watch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng pulled out a pocket watch—the casing was twice the diameter of a one-yuan coin, gleaming silver, reflective as a mirror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Click.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He opened the casing—the white dial bore twelve raised, exquisite hour markers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crown—the stem used to wind the watch—sat at the twelve o’clock position. Master Feng gripped it, twisted a few times, then pulled it out two notches.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng had seen mechanical watches before: the crown, when not pulled, wound the watch; pulled one notch, it adjusted the time; pulled two notches, it adjusted the date.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this dial had no date function—why pull it out two notches?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tick. Tick-tock~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The pocket watch emitted the sound of a music box.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such a familiar tune—he’d heard it somewhere before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A mall? A restaurant?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“VIP upstairs?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng had worked in all these places; he remembered the melody vividly—but couldn’t recall its name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hadn’t heard music in a long time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sound felt deeply comforting to him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How much for this watch?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng held the chain: “A watch from Che Man Country—genuine, money-back guarantee. Two thousand two hundred. I can’t offer credit for this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng was tempted—but the price was staggering.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang grew impatient: “What’s the use of buying this? Just buy a clock!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Feng smiled but said nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Xiaopang urged them to hurry; Li Banfeng scanned the shelves for anything else useful. His gaze suddenly fixed on a strange object.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a wooden cabinet—ancient redwood, the size of two stacked bedside tables—with three metal trumpet-like flowers on top.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More precisely, they weren’t trumpet flowers—they were three actual trumpets: one large, its bell wider than a plate; the other two much smaller, each about the size of a fist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is this a phonograph?” Li Banfeng’s eyes lit up—he’d seen this on TV, a machine that played music from records.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Phonograph?” Master Feng shook his head. “This isn’t called a phonograph.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What it was called didn’t matter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A phonograph meant electricity existed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Electricity meant he could charge his phone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Charge his phone, and this world would be perfect!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even without cell signal, at least he wouldn’t need to buy a watch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Feng the Shopkeeper’s answer disappointed Li Banfeng: “We don’t have anything electric here. This is a phonograph—it doesn’t need electricity.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng couldn’t understand: if it didn’t need electricity, how could it produce sound?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only today did he learn that the earliest phonographs had nothing to do with electricity or magnetism—only two things mattered: the needle and the record.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feng the Shopkeeper placed a shellac record onto the phonograph’s turntable, then pulled a crank from a drawer beneath the machine, inserted it into the phonograph, and turned it vigorously for over a dozen rotations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was winding the spring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the spring was fully wound, he released the pin, and the record spun rapidly on the turntable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feng the Shopkeeper lowered the needle onto the record, and a song, crackling with static, drifted out from the horn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Floating clouds disperse,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bright moon shines upon us,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Together in perfect harmony,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Let us drink till we’re drunk tonight.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The moon is full, the flowers bloom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The principle of this ancient phonograph was extremely simple.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The record bore grooves of varying depth—grooves carved by the needle as it vibrated in time with the song’s sound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, as the needle traced those grooves again, the friction produced sounds that recreated the original song.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the acoustic principle of the phonograph.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sound quality was far from good—it was even somewhat coarse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Li Banfeng loved this tune; he listened with great pleasure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unfortunately, it was too short—less than three minutes, the needle slid to the end, the spring unwound completely, and the record stopped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin the Fat One sneered: “What’s so great about this? To listen to one song, you have to crank the handle for half an hour—it’s too much work.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You don’t have to wind it to listen,” Feng the Shopkeeper said, placing a new record on the turntable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He brought a metal cup and poured two cups of water into the small horn beside the main one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feng the Shopkeeper struck a match and opened a small door at the lower right of the phonograph.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside was a hidden compartment, holding a fixed iron box filled halfway with grease, with a wick standing upright in the center.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He lit the wick, and a small flame filled the entire compartment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng didn’t know what kind of oil it was, but even from afar, he felt the intense heat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hss! Hss! Hss!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The small horn on the right of the main horn rhythmically spat out mist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The left small horn added water; the right one expelled steam.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What kind of trick was this?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Could it be…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The record began to spin on the phonograph.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A steam-powered phonograph?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How precise was this machinery?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Banfeng widened his eyes; his education of the past dozen years faced another challenge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After about a minute, the record’s speed stabilized, and Feng the Shopkeeper placed the needle on the record.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Butterflies fly away,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My heart is no longer here,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who will keep me through this lonely night?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I wipe tears from my cheeks…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wild grass and idle flowers bloom with spring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What a beautiful tune.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>PS: Dear readers, an important character has appeared—keep your eyes open!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2220,"2026-06-20T03:43:13.043Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","226e33537e8efa9bc9b0c68ee7d6ab0879aeffe81f79df1932a27fe0b39701eb","lord-of-the-proles-chapter-28","lord-of-the-proles-chapter-26",863,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Flord-of-the-proles-cover.jpg"]