Chapter 816: A Promise Worth a Thousand Gold

Li Banfeng, dressed in a black suit, black shirt, and black top hat, arrived at Yan Sha Zhai, the most famous library of Moxiang Store.

The snowstorm was fierce today; when he entered, Li Banfeng removed his hat and shook off the snowflakes.

The woman at the front desk wore a green robe and a deep purple scarf, her hair braided into two plaits, and said to Li Banfeng: “Snow and wind cannot deter your devotion to this library—is it knowledge you crave, or the scent of ink?”

Li Banfeng pondered for a moment, then lightly tapped the front desk.

A thousand-legger crawled out from the table and slithered up the woman’s body.

The woman screamed: “Are you here to stay, or to read?”

When Li Banfeng first came to Moxiang Store, Lu Yuanxin had terrified this woman with a thousand-legger; Li Banfeng clearly remembered its shape, but no matter how hard he tried, he could only replicate it to three-tenths accuracy.

The Technique of Perfect Fortune still lacked sufficient mastery.

The thousand-legger vanished instantly; Li Banfeng handed the invitation to the woman.

The woman examined the invitation, straightened her appearance, dared not utter another word, and led Li Banfeng upstairs to the main library.

The second floor of the main library was rarely opened; this was Li Banfeng’s first time here.

The second floor held three large book pavilions and six small ones; the woman brought Li Banfeng to one of the large pavilions, named Yun Tai Xuanji Pavilion.

Pushing open the pavilion’s door, eight rosewood moon-gate bookshelves surrounded a central space; the books were wrapped in silk-moth-paper, each cover bearing vermilion annotations—glance once, and the strokes seemed dense and chaotic; stare longer, and the characters appeared neat and legible.

So much care went into the book covers alone—clearly these texts were priceless; Kexi most titles were unfamiliar to Li Banfeng. If Xiao Ye Ci were here, he’d likely refuse to leave for days.

At the pavilion’s center stood a long table carved from a single piece of ginkgo wood; around it were thirty-six seats, each equipped with a cracked-ice inkstone, a dragon-head bronze paperweight, a cloud-patterned jade brush rest, a star-dusted purple-hair brush, and qingtan dragon-scale paper.

Li Banfeng didn’t know the quality of these items, but the Judge’s Pen whispered every detail into his ear—no nuance omitted—and having spoken so much at once, Li Banfeng feared it might collapse from exhaustion.

This was a scholar’s paradise, yet none here were true scholars.

An old man drank from a wine flask, gulped down several swallows, belched, and slumped onto the table, half-asleep—he was Liu Hutian, the Ancestor of Wine Cultivation.

A woman sewed with needle and thread, turning a man’s long robe into a qipao—she was Feng Xuanzhen, the Ancestor of Clothing Cultivation.

Another woman beside her admired the qipao and said: “Sister, your craftsmanship is exquisite—is this made for my figure? I’d love to try it on.”

She was Sui Chanxin, the Ancestor of Charm Cultivation.

Feng Xuanzhen smiled: “You really want to try? Right here, in front of everyone?”

Sui Chanxin held up the qipao and glanced around: “Who here isn’t a master? What haven’t they seen? A girl changing clothes—surely none of you would dare peek.”

As she spoke, Sui Chanxin deliberately looked at He Jiaqing: “Brother, don’t you agree?”

He Jiaqing smiled faintly and said nothing.

Ku Po Po frowned, her revulsion toward Sui Chanxin unmistakable.

Sui Chanxin looked at Ku Po Po: “Are your eyebrows stuck with Qi Wujiang’s glue?”

A man beside her, dragging two trails of greenish mucus, snorted: “Who’d dare stick to her? She holds fate and fortune—who’d have the nerve to provoke her?”

The snot-covered man was Qi Wujiang, the Ancestor of Glue Cultivation.

Next to Qi Wujiang sat a bald man, his scalp gleaming brightly; Li Banfeng didn’t recognize him, and only a few here knew his identity.

Beside the bald man sat Chang Jiuhai, the Ancestor of Demon Cultivation; he scowled at the front-desk woman: “Why are you here?”

The woman dared not look up and whispered: “I brought a guest—the invitation says Li Qi.”

“Li Qi?” Chang Jiuhai startled. “Where is he?”

The woman turned back—no one was there—and panicked, stumbling over her words.

“H-he was right here with me, just—right here standing.”

After a moment of shock, everyone calmed; they were famed across Puluozhou—they wouldn’t lose composure so easily.

Sui Chanxin played with her hair and smiled: “Li Qi is a Traveler Cultivator—his Dao foundation seems solid. He came, then left—”

“His speed is indeed impressive.”

Chang Jiuhai narrowed his eyes: “So many waited for him—why leave when he arrived?”

Ku Po Po’s expression turned icy: “You didn’t even leave him a seat. Who wouldn’t be angry? Li Qi leaving was only natural.”

All thirty-six seats around the table were occupied—there was no seat for Li Qi.

Liu Hutian took a sip of wine and grinned at Ku Po Po: “Where do you think he should sit? Look around—whose status isn’t higher than his?”

“I have no right,” He Jiaqing rose, “I’ll give him my seat.”

Qi Wujiang pressed his palm downward: “Young Master He, sit down. Though young, you’re a disciple of Xiao Lian. Even for your master’s sake, this seat belongs to you.”

He Jiaqing frowned slightly—he didn’t want to sit. If not for Ku Po Po and Huan Wuchang forcing him, he wouldn’t have come to Moxiang Store at all; he was busy clearing land and had no desire to wade into this mess.

Ku Po Po pulled He Jiaqing down; he sat. Song Shu stood: “I give my seat to Li Qi. He’s today’s main guest—you invited him to speak—why make him stand?”

Chang Jiuhai laughed: “We came to speak with him—that’s already giving him great face. What status does he have? What are we?”

Song Shu glared: “I have no status either—I’ll stand if I must.”

Chang Jiuhai’s smile vanished; his face turned cold: “You’re Song Qianhun’s daughter—you’re my disciple, so you have status.

You’re Yuan Miaoping’s student; Yuan Miaoping is a founding Ancestor—this seat is owed to her.

We invited Li Qi. Everyone arrived. He’s low in status, junior in rank, and came late—he should stand. That’s the rule!”

Whoosh!

Before Chang Jiuhai finished speaking, he felt a chill on his cheek—a line of blood trickled from his lip to his jaw.

Qi Wujiang cried out: “Who? Who struck?”

Sui Chanxin rose: “Has Li Qi returned?”

Everyone stood, scanning every corner of the pavilion.

No one by the door. No one on the ceiling. No one around the eight bookshelves.

After searching long, they turned—and saw someone seated in Chang Jiuhai’s chair.

The man wore a suit and top hat, sitting calmly and looking at Chang Jiuhai: “Looking for me?”

Chang Jiuhai raised an eyebrow: “Are you Li Qi?”

Li Banfeng nodded slightly.

Chang Jiuhai studied Li Qi, then pointed to the chair: “That’s my seat.”

Li Banfeng politely said: “Thank you.”

Chang Jiuhai stared at Li Qi: “I never intended to give it to you.”

Li Banfeng stared back: “Your mouth is bleeding.”

Chang Jiuhai’s cheek twitched; a horde of ghost servants surged from behind him: “You sit here—where do I sit?”

This Dao Ancestor had clearly lost face.

Liu Hutian urged: “Old Chang, calm down. Don’t rush.”

He glanced at the younger cultivators, expecting someone to yield their seat.

Song Shu sat back down, silent.

He Jiaqing sat back too, unable to suppress a chuckle.

The others said nothing and returned to their seats.

The front-desk woman remained, crouched on the floor, trembling. Li Banfeng said: “Are you shaking from the cold stealing your warmth, or from fear stealing your courage?”

The woman wept: “I need to use the latrine.”

Li Banfeng smiled: “After you’ve relieved yourself, bring a chair for this gentleman.”

“Yes!” The woman dashed out of the pavilion.

Chang Jiuhai swept his sleeve, dismissing his ghost servants: “I take my leave!”

He left the pavilion.

Li Banfeng asked: “Who else wants to leave?”

No one answered.

Li Banfeng nodded: “You called me. I came. Let’s talk.”

Liu Hutian sipped his wine and looked at Li Banfeng: “I’m the oldest here. When we first cultivated, there was no such thing as Dao Sects. Whoever mastered the most techniques could stand firm in Puluozhou.

The Merchant held us in high regard, recognized us as Dao Ancestors—we’re truly grateful to him.

Now we’re old. The new tide pushes the old. We’d rather not meddle—but if things go too far—”

“We can’t ignore them.”

Li Banfeng asked: “What’s gone too far?”

Qi Wujiang said: “This Moxiang Store affair is absurd. This is Puluozhou’s literary lineage! If the lineage falters, do you know the consequences?”

Li Banfeng looked at Qi Wujiang: “Has Moxiang Store ever had problems before? Do you know?”

Qi Wujiang shook his head: “I don’t know.”

Li Banfeng looked around: “Earlier, the Inner State sent a toad to seize Moxiang Store’s territory—did you know?”

He Jiaqing stayed silent; the others all said they didn’t know.

Li Banfeng asked again: “Now, Shu Wanjuan and Dan Chengjun came together to seize Moxiang Store—did you know?”

They still said they didn’t know.

Li Banfeng smiled: “You knew nothing before. Now that Dan Chengjun is dead, how do you know?”

Sui Chanxin said: “Brother Li Qi, this matter blew up—you and Dan Chengjun were in the newspapers. We had to know.”

Li Banfeng looked around again: “So you came here for Dan Chengjun?”

They fell silent—they didn’t want to be linked to Dan Chengjun.

Liu Hutian lifted his flask and drank again: “We came not for him, but solely for Moxiang Store.

This place is no ordinary site. When Shu Wanjuan built it, we old brothers said: Puluozhou’s future rests here. Other places can be neglected—but Moxiang Store admits no jest.

The first Lord of Moxiang Store was Shu Wanjuan, the Ancestor of Literature; the second was his disciple Zhou Wencheng; the third was Zhou Wencheng’s disciple Murong Gui.

These three men have reached the pinnacle of civil cultivation; we trust the Ink Fragrance Shop in their hands. I know the role of local guardian here is no easy one—if Murong Gui truly doesn’t want to continue, we’ll accept a more suitable replacement.

But what about the Peddler? Has he replaced someone? There’s not a single soul at the Ink Fragrance Shop now! How absurd is it that such a vital place has no local guardian?

As he spoke, Liu Hutian coughed twice, pounding his chest—his words sounded heart-wrenching.

Ku Po Po looked at Li Qi, wanting to see his reaction to this matter, for everyone believed the Peddler had indeed acted wrongly.

Qi Wujian looked at Li Qi: “I know you’re aligned with the Peddler—we remember the good things he’s done, but we also know the absurd things he’s done. This isn’t the first time!”

Li Banfeng asked: “What other times?”

Qi Wujian said: “You know him so well—don’t you remember? After we seized Jiangshan, how did we old comrades break up? We fought to the death following him—what did we gain?”

He didn’t become emperor, fine—but at least watch over the realm. Just after taking Jiangshan, why did he run off to Wanshengzhou? After he left, what did the Heavenly Maiden do to Puluozhou? Isn’t that absurd?”

Ku Po Po looked again at Li Banfeng. The events Qi Wujian mentioned were sins the Peddler could never wash clean.

At the founding of Puluozhou, the Peddler went to Wanshengzhou. After the Heavenly Maiden seized control of Puluozhou, she split it apart with boundary lines.

That division remains unhealed to this day—only after Li Qi took over the railway and abolished the travel permits did the boundary’s effects begin to ease.

At the mention of this, everyone burst into discussion!

“Not just the Heavenly Maiden—there’s also the Eighteen Wheels. That madman, relying on his ties to the Peddler, ran rampant in Puluozhou, seizing how many territories?”

“Yaoxin was given charge of the crucial Medicinal King Gully—he’s an imperial official. Can you really trust someone like that?”

“Sun Tiecheng’s daughter copied the same pattern—she’s a lunatic. She took Hulucun and ran wild across Puluozhou, causing how much chaos? Did the Peddler ever intervene?”

“And Lühuazi—what kind of Dao sect did he build? How many lives did it cost? Could the Peddler just let him go on?”

“Lühuazi died, and now a foreign devil has come. This foreign devil is even worse—he summoned the Dao Laogui. What a disaster that thing is! Did the Peddler ever act?”

“Qianliangfang was a legitimate territory. I heard the foreign devil went there and slaughtered everyone. Word is the Peddler ordered it—where do you go to seek justice?”

“He’s committed too many absurd acts. Let’s count them—we’d still be counting till tomorrow morning. Look at what Puluozhou has become!”

The more they spoke, the more agitated they grew, their voices rising louder.

Ku Po Po kept staring at Li Qi, but Li Qi said nothing.

Song Laoshi felt sorry for Li Banfeng—after all, it wasn’t his fault.

Yet she also hoped Li Banfeng would listen to these people’s voices. In her view, these were genuine problems in Puluozhou.

Li Banfeng suddenly lowered his hat brim, and a wave of authority surged from him.

Half of this authority came from Li Banfeng himself; the other half was borrowed from Hong Ying through the Deep Courtyard Technique.

Hong Ying’s authority was already hard to resist—now, combined with Li Banfeng’s, it silenced everyone on the spot.

Li Banfeng lifted his hat brim, eyes and brows lowered, and looked at them all: “Don’t drift off-topic. You didn’t come here for the Ink Fragrance Shop?”

Liu Hutian nodded: “You’re right—we came for the Ink Fragrance Shop. If you give us an answer regarding the Ink Fragrance Shop, we’ll leave immediately.”

“Who are you asking to answer?” Li Banfeng looked at Liu Hutian.

Liu Hutian took a sip of wine, lowering his head in silence.

The atmosphere in the Book Pavilion grew tense again.

Qi Wujian rubbed his palms, and a layer of glue appeared on his palms.

Huan Wuchang pulled out a folding fan from thin air and waved it gently before his chest.

Sui Chanxin glanced around, then suddenly giggled twice: “Oh my, what’s all this? We came to discuss matters, not to accuse anyone. If we damage harmony, that’s no good.”

After her words, the atmosphere in the Book Pavilion noticeably eased—not because her speech was sweet, but because she used the Charm Cultivation technique: Red Beauty Halts War.

This technique temporarily dampened everyone’s combat intent. Sui Chanxin looked at Li Qi: “Brother Li Qi, may I say something?”

Li Banfeng nodded: “Senior, please speak.”

Sui Chanxin looked into Li Banfeng’s eyes, her face half hopeful, half concerned, her tone half admiring, half sincere: “Brother Li Qi, you defeated Shan Chengjun and protected the Ink Fragrance Shop. Whether in heart or skill, I truly admire you. If I’d met a man like you back then, I’d have married you even if I had to pay you.”

We didn’t come here to trouble you. We’re worried about the Ink Fragrance Shop’s future. If it truly has no local guardian, we’ll help choose one. We can’t possibly rest easy with such a critical place left unattended.”

Li Banfeng said: “Who says the Ink Fragrance Shop has no local guardian? If it truly had none, how could its scholarly tradition have endured?”

Qi Wujian said: “Is that true? If there really is a local guardian, bring him out for us to see.”

Li Banfeng looked at Qi Wujian: “Do you know where the local guardian lives? If you know, go see him. If you don’t, go ask around.”

If you can’t find out, stop thinking about it. This is the local guardian’s territory. How much face do you have to demand he come to you?”

Qi Wujian rubbed the glue on his hands: “Li Qi, is that really true? If we can’t see the local guardian, what then?”

Li Banfeng said: “And if we do see him? What will you say then?”

Qi Wujian said: “If we see him, we’ll turn around and leave!”

Li Banfeng lowered his hat brim: “If he doesn’t let you leave, you may never leave the Ink Fragrance Shop again.”

Hearing this, Qi Wujian gritted his teeth.

He glanced left and right; seeing no one move, he clenched his teeth for a moment, then swallowed his rage.

Sui Chanxin stood: “Since Brother Li Qi has said this much, I have nothing more to add. This girl will take her leave first.”

“Farewell.”

One by one, everyone rose and left the Book Pavilion.

After exiting Yansha Zhai, He Jiaqing said to Ku Po Po: “I’m preparing to return to Xindi.”

Ku Po Po frowned: “What do you mean?”

Huan Wuchang beside him said: “Jiaqing, you probably didn’t understand the old seniors—they said ‘farewell,’ but they don’t mean to leave.”

If Li Qi doesn’t give an answer, this matter won’t end. This is our golden chance to seize the Ink Fragrance Shop.”

He Jiaqing said nothing.

Huan Wuchang said: “You don’t know the value of the Ink Fragrance Shop, do you?”

“Senior, I know the Ink Fragrance Shop is important—but what good is staying here?” He Jiaqing pointed at Yansha Zhai. “Can you really expect those people to accomplish anything? Do you truly believe Li Qi will bow to them?”

They started with seniority, experience, dragging up old grudges—I don’t have time to waste on this. After all that back-and-forth, did Li Qi even glance at them once?”

“Senior, I must attend to real business. I no longer wish to involve myself in the Ink Fragrance Shop’s affairs.”

The Book Pavilion was now empty—except for Li Qi and the bald man.

The bald man rubbed his scalp and smiled: “Hearing of you isn’t seeing you. Seventh Master, today I finally understand what ‘the young are to be feared’ means. That scene was truly thrilling. These old men have been abusing their age for too long—they deserved a good scolding.”

Li Banfeng asked: “What should I call you?”

The bald man packed tobacco into his pipe and drew a puff: “I’m Wu. Those who know me call me Old Wu; those who don’t call me Big Boss. You can call me anything.”

Big Boss?

That title was rare in Puluozhou.

Li Banfeng asked: “Where are you Big Boss from?”

Wu Big Boss smiled: “I’m not from Neizhou, not from Waizhou, not from Puluozhou—I’m from Wanshengzhou.”

Li Banfeng studied Wu Big Boss—aside from being bald, he had nothing remarkable about his appearance: “What brings you to Puluozhou?”

“I heard Shan Chengjun is dead. I came to verify the news.”

Li Banfeng said: “The news is true.”

“I had many business dealings with Shan Chengjun. Now he’s gone—I wonder if those deals still stand?”

Li Banfeng smiled: “Don’t worry—they’re void now.”

Wu Big Boss rubbed his scalp and sighed: “True enough. Dead men owe nothing. The business is ruined. The debts he owed me—I’ve nowhere to collect.”

Let’s drop Shan Chengjun. Seventh Master, I can tell you’re no ordinary man. I’d like to discuss some business with you—would you be willing to grant me your attention?”

“Depends on what business,” Li Banfeng said, not wanting to engage.

Hearing Li Qi’s cold tone, Wu Big Boss explained: “Seventh Master, business is business, humanity is humanity. I did business with Shan Chengjun, but we were never allies.”

Doing business with Wanshengzhou isn’t necessarily bad. You’re aligned with the Peddler—and the Peddler did business with Wanshengzhou too.”

Li Banfeng grew interested: “What business did the Peddler do with Wanshengzhou? Could you reveal a few details?”

Wu Big Boss said: “With the Heavenly Maiden’s help, the Peddler seized Puluozhou. But have you ever wondered why the Heavenly Maiden helped Puluozhou? Just because the Peddler was handsome?”

Li Banfeng froze: “Was there a business deal involved?”

Wu Big Boss tapped his pipe: “Yes! You Puluozhou folks always say the Peddler and the Heavenly Maiden had affection—but can affection be trusted?”

The Heavenly Maiden is from Wanshengzhou. She helped Puluozhou, so the Peddler had to repay Wanshengzhou. She helped him seize the realm—he had to repay the debt. Do you know how many territories in Wanshengzhou he seized for them?”

Li Banfeng fell silent for a long while. The Peddler went to Wanshengzhou for this?

“Was it their agreement?”

Wu Big Boss nodded: “The Peddler is a Covenant Cultivator. Debts must be repaid—how could he break his word?”

Puluozhou values covenants above all. Where did this ‘a promise is worth a thousand gold’ culture come from? It’s no joke!”

Besides, Wanshengzhou isn’t easy to bully. If he left this debt unpaid, Wanshengzhou would never let Puluozhou off.”

Li Banfeng lowered his head, silent for a long while: “Did the Peddler ever mention this to anyone else?”

“I don’t know if he told anyone. But who would he tell? Who could understand? And even if they understood, they’d pretend ignorance! Even if they knew how hard it was for him, no one ever pitied him.”

Wu Big Boss tore off a scrap of paper, wrote an address, and handed it to Li Banfeng: “We can discuss business later. If Seventh Master is willing to meet, you’ll find me at this address.”

Outside Yansha Zhai, Li Banfeng saw Song Laoshi at the entrance.

He deactivated his Courtyard Cultivation talent and stepped forward to greet her.

Seeing Li Banfeng, Song Shu was delighted: “Banfeng, I’ve been calling you nonstop—your line’s always busy. I wanted to tell you: you shouldn’t have come today.”

Li Banfeng smiled: “I’m here now. It’s good to meet these seniors.”

Song Shu shook her head: “They won’t leave the Ink Fragrance Shop anytime soon. These people aren’t easy to handle. Be careful.”

Li Banfeng disagreed: “I think these seniors are fine. I won’t be leaving soon either—I’ll take the chance to get along with them.”

“Foolish boy, keep pretending,” Song Shu exhaled, rubbing her hands, brushing snow from his hat brim and shoulders: “Banfeng, some of what they said has merit. The Peddler did many wrong things. We need change. If he hadn’t irresponsibly abandoned Puluozhou—”

“Teacher,” Li Banfeng interrupted Song Laoshi, “do you really think that was the Peddler’s fault? You once said: in scholarship, never judge by appearances. I still believe that’s profoundly true.”

Song Shu stared for a long time; when she finally tried to speak again, she saw Li Banfeng lower his hat brim and turn away.

The snow fell heavily; Song Shu strained to look, but could not make out Li Banfeng’s silhouette.