Chapter 62: A Bought‑Out Favor

"You've already smeared the answer all over my face, old man—aside from Zhang, what other surname could it be?" Chen Wuji said.

Zhang Lao nodded, "Not too stupid. The Zhang Clan is an aristocratic clan of Nan Jun; this Zhang Imperial Historian is among the outstanding of the current Zhang descendants, and more importantly, he is the legitimate heir, poised to become the head of the Zhang Clan in this generation."

"It's a pity, people are never perfect. He became famous young, his career went smoothly, but he had no offspring; he took five concubines, yet to this day he has only one daughter, and she is plagued by illness."

"Her illness is such that even the Imperial Doctor can do nothing about it; that's why she was sent to me—a blind cat hitting a dead rat—and somehow you bumped into her with a handful of ashes. You say if you don't ask for something, how can that Zhang Imperial Historian sleep at night?"

Chen Wuji understood.

He admitted he was shallow.

If he knew that the girl named Xiu Er had even been seen by the Imperial Doctor, and was the Zhang Imperial Historian's only daughter, he would certainly not just suggest killing the Yuan Laoer brothers; he would definitely make that Zhang surname overturn the county magistrate and county assistant as well.

Such opportunities to ask for favors don't come often.

The county magistrate of Yunan County is no good thing; his reputation is literally worse than a cesspool. If we could kill him, that would be perfect.

"What a pity!" Chen Wuji shook his head, feeling deep regret.

Zhang Lao laughed heartlessly, "Now you know regret? Too late! But, you little brat have a strong killing instinct—how did those two provoke you?"

"They tried to take my wife and kill me—does that count as a reason?" Chen Wuji raised his eyelids.

"Indeed, there is cause and effect." Zhang Lao nodded.

"Those two are surely done for; I suggest you take advantage of your remaining prestige and wrap up their affairs. I'll teach you a few moves: set up an altar, burn their corpses, and scatter their ashes in the Yuan family ancestral grave."

Chen Wuji frowned and glanced at him, "Old man, I roughly gather you're not kindly suggesting I repay hatred with virtue, but what's the point?"

"Grind their bones and scatter their ashes for their ancestors to see." Zhang Lao laughed.

Chen Wuji: ……

Sure enough, he's an old man with not a shred of kindness.

"Is it useful?" Chen Wuji asked.

Zhang Lao gave a mysterious smile, "It works if you believe it; it doesn't if you don't."

"Forget it, I still prefer hanging people from trees." Chen Wuji shook his head; he really wanted the Zhang-surname person to hear every word he'd just said clearly, not just chop them down and forget about hanging them up.

Today's affair also gave Chen Wuji a vague understanding of how to deal with these aristocratic clans: once you invoke the word "favor", you must raise your demands high—even if you ask for a lion's share, it doesn't matter.

Just weigh the weight of this favor and estimate your own worth.

Anyway, in their eyes, the favor between a petty commoner like him and them is only fit to be bought out.

"Let's go."

Chen Wuji greeted Zhang Lao.

"Wait a moment, let's go together."

Zhang Lao pulled a bamboo strip from under the couch, locked up the shop, and went out with Chen Wuji.

After the two parted at East Market, Old Zhang Head rushed off toward the southern part of the city in a furious manner.

He must be going to find that apprentice called Little Fish.

Chen Wuji glanced twice, then turned and entered East Market.

The Five Spirit Fat gave him the largest sum of money he'd gotten since crossing over; with the Zhang Imperial Historian's help, he no longer needed to scrape together cash to bribe officials, and the equipment upgrade he'd been longing for could finally be put on the agenda.

Chen Wuji wandered around a few nearby shops, and in the pretense of looking at goods, casually asked which ironworks in East Market was more conscientious; several people recommended Yang Tiejiang.

Yang Tiejiang indeed bears the surname Yang; he is a middle-aged man with a sullen face, striking iron not like forging but like striking an enemy—his visage is ferocious, his eyes full of cruelty.

Chen Wuji scanned the items hanging on the shop wall, then asked the shopkeeper, "Do you have any ready-made bows and arrows? Strong bows, sturdy arrows."

Yang Tiejiang didn't speak, didn't even glance at Chen Wuji, just kept his head down hammering iron—sparks flew with each strike, and any iron piece already shaped like a knife blade would visibly deform.

Chen Wuji wasn't impatient either; he waited calmly.

Bang, bang bang bang……

Only after Yang Tiejiang finished forging that cleaver, tossed it into water to quench, did he turn to Chen Wuji and ask, "What do you want? Strong bow, sturdy arrows? What are you planning? Rebelling?!"

Looking at his unfriendly gaze, Chen Wuji had the illusion that this guy wanted to beat him to death.

How can a person be this fierce in ordinary times?

"I'm a hunter!" Chen Wuji said.

In Da Yu, buying bows and arrows requires showing a permit.

Hunters can buy them; even military bows, if obtained through a channel, are permitted by the court.

But ordinary commoners cannot.

If you're not a registered hunter, whoever possesses a bow and arrow will die; on this point the court's attitude is extremely stern.

"Show me the household register." Yang Tiejiang stretched out his hand, blackened by charcoal fire, toward Chen Wuji.

Chen Wuji handed over the household register.

Yang Tiejiang examined it carefully; he not only looked but also asked in detail where Chen Wuji lived and which mountain he usually hunted on.

Chen Wuji seriously suspected that this guy couldn't read, was just pretending to look, the point being to confirm through questioning whether he was truly a hunter.

The blacksmith who sells bows and arrows to a fake hunter bears responsibility if something happens.

"Wait."

Yang Tiejiang returned the household register to Chen Wuji, turned into the side room, and came out holding a horn bow, saying, "There's only this one bow, an elm horn bow—take it if you want."

Chen Wuji tried it in his hand; the bow was fine, well-made and sturdy.

The only drawback is that pulling it takes some effort; he can barely draw it even with all his strength.

"What's the draw weight of this bow?" Chen Wuji asked.

"Three stone!"

"No wonder." Chen Wuji muttered.

Drawing a three‑stone bow with just barely enough strength makes perfect sense.

One stone equals 120 catties, so drawing this requires 360 catties of arm strength.

The archers in the army are said to use only a stone bow.

But Chen Wuji was also a bit delighted; he could already pull a three‑stone bow, so it's no surprise the one at home felt light and not at all handy.

In that case, the bow that fits him best now is actually the two‑stone bow.

"Can it be drawn, but pulling it a few more times would probably wear me out half to death—do you have a two‑stone bow?" Chen Wuji asked.

Yang Tiejiang's eyes suddenly widened like the stone lion at the Xianya gate, "Deaf? There's only this one."

"I'm not deaf; I'm just checking with you. But with a voice that loud, if you shout me deaf, don't blame me for misleading you!" Chen Wuji said.

"Laborers are born with loud voices. Want to buy? Three or two silver!" Yang Tiejiang said, arms crossed.

Chen Wuji felt conflicted; the bow was truly good—just holding it he could tell it was a Good Bow without close inspection—but the three‑stone one was indeed a bit hard for him to use.

"Make it cheaper!" Chen Wuji said after a moment of hesitation.

"Can't make it cheaper."

"Then throw in ten Feihong Arrows!"

"One arrow costs a hundred wen; Laborers give you ten?"

"Five!"

"Can't give them!"