Chapter 117: Mount Sanqing Gathering

"Good, good," Pan Yun was delighted to see he shared the same thought. "Shall we sign a contract so the toothbrushes you produce can only be sold to your caravan?"

Wang Cong hesitated, then shook his head. "Forget it. My caravan has limited capacity, and I have other businesses to run. There's no need to focus solely on this. Let others have their chance—highest bidder gets it. But for the first three months, all must be sold to us."

Pan Yun didn't believe she could outsmart him in business or match his experience, so she decided to follow his lead.

The next day, when Pan Yun went down the mountain again, she told the villagers the good news.

The villagers weren't happy at all—they outright refused her. "No, no, how could we afford this? We'll just help you out and earn a little craft fee."

"Yes, yes, little Daoist Priest, if the boar bristles aren't enough, I'll go find more for you. Winter's coming, everyone's selling live pigs—boar bristles are easy to get."

They were all fellow villagers; no one would refuse such a small request—just cutting a bit of pig hair?

The pigs are going to be sold and slaughtered anyway—just cut it however you like.

Pan Yun: "... If you make them yourselves, the only cost is a bit of medicinal powder—your profit would be much higher."

They still refused. "No, no, we'll just gather the boar bristles."

"Little Daoist Priest, is your monastery no longer willing to hire us to make the toothbrushes?"

"Is it because it's not profitable?"

Pan Yun: "... No, alright, let's leave it like this. It's fine too. Thank you for your hard work."

"Not hard work, not hard work."

Pan Yun looked at them with sympathy and complexity—they truly were working hard.

Kind and diligent villagers, fearing their boar bristles wouldn't be enough, stopped hiring others and voluntarily gathered bristles from villages miles around—for free!

Diligent and kind villagers, fearing their bamboo handles wouldn't be enough, would casually chop one or two bamboo stalks while working in the fields and bring them back for the monastery—to free!

They accepted only a small craft fee per brush—not a single copper coin more!

Pan Yun felt pity for them. "Too kind. Just a little foolish."

Wang Feiyin: "... They probably just don't want to take the risk."

"I know. Still foolish."

But Pan Yun and Wang Cong weren't the type to force people. If they didn't want to, fine—as long as someone brought boar bristles, they kept soaking them and hiring villagers to make toothbrushes.

If none came, they stopped work—let things unfold naturally.

In this way, they accumulated over five hundred toothbrushes.

Wang Cong kept a hundred for himself and gave the rest to the caravan to sell.

He said they'd sell for ten copper coins each, but they wouldn't sell at that price—because the quantity was large, and they weren't selling directly to customers, but to general stores and stall owners.

There had to be profit space for others, so they priced them between five and eight copper coins depending on quality.

The hundred he kept, he planned to sell at the Mount Sanqing Gathering.

The Mount Sanqing Gathering was like a temple fair, divided into inner and outer sections.

The outer section was for ordinary people—they came to burn incense, worship, trade, and meet potential partners.

The inner section was for Daoist Priests, Monks, and Nuns—they came to exchange Daoist and Buddhist teachings, artifacts, and martial arts and spells.

Fuxing Monastery wasn't far from Mount Sanqing. Early in the morning, they carried down a huge pile of goods from the mountain, loaded them onto a mule cart, and set off in a grand procession toward Fuxing Monastery.

It was truly grand—along the way, many people carried vegetables, baskets of eggs, even tied-up chickens and ducks.

When they saw Tao Ji driving the cart, people immediately greeted him. Soon, the cart was piled high with goods. Pan Yun and the others got down and let elderly grandfathers and grandmothers take their seats.

Even Tao Ji got off to lead the mule. Wang Feiyin walked beside the cart, carrying a bundle—he disliked the slow pace, sped up, and gradually left them behind.

Pan Yun glanced at Seeing Miao Zhen; Seeing Miao Zhen turned to look at her at the same moment. They instantly agreed—each grabbed one of Seeing Miao He's arms and dashed forward.

Tao Yan Bai froze, shouting, "Sister—!"

He lunged to chase them, but Wang Cong grabbed the back of his robe in time. "Where are you running? There's so much on the cart—watch it! What if something falls?"

No sooner had he spoken than a bundle slipped from between the cart slats and thudded to the ground.

Wang Cong hurried to pick it up. The old man sitting on the left edge of the cart called out, "Oh no, Cong-ya, those are my chestnuts—quick, put them back!"

Wang Cong replied, found a gap, and forcibly shoved the bundle back in.

When the old mule finally dragged them to Fuxing Monastery, the front courtyard and both sides of the road were already crowded with people.

The village chief pushed through with a few young men, shouting, "Our Fen Shui Village's stall is over there—everyone who wants to set up a stall, go there!"

Tao Ji immediately guided the cart over. Pan Yun, Seeing Miao Zhen, and Seeing Miao He—with the cat—were already lost in the crowd.

This was Pan Yun's first temple fair, and it was far livelier than the ones from her past life. "Has the Mount Sanqing Gathering always been this busy?"

"Yes, always this busy every year."

Pan Yun marveled at the throngs of people. Two children ran past her, laughing, holding little windmills. "No wonder no one chooses our Mount Sanqing for the fair—you have to climb for two hours just to get there. How could anyone set up a stall?"

If it were her, she wouldn't want to either.

Seeing Miao Zhen: "Worship requires sincerity. Climbing the mountain is part of the test. Besides villagers who want to sell, others still willingly climb Mount Sanqing—and our mountain has beautiful scenery."

"That's true," Pan Yun nodded. "Not just beautiful scenery—the spiritual energy is good too."

Pan Yun tilted her head, dodging a hand that slapped toward her. She looked up and saw Wang Feiyin—she lowered her guard. "Big Brother, weren't you ahead of us?"

"I was. But when I turned around, you all vanished. I had to come back looking," Wang Feiyin pushed them out of the crowd to the side, frowning at the three. "Don't you know you're still young? Temple fairs have child-snatchers—don't wander off."

Pan Yun: "Child-snatchers snatch us? Are we just wasting our Dao training?"

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Wang Feiyin sneered. "Do you think all child-snatchers are ordinary people like the ones you've encountered? If you practice Dao and have cultivation, doesn't that mean there could be child-snatchers with Dao cultivation or martial arts?"

Pan Yun: "If they're that powerful, they have so many ways to make money—what do they gain?"

"Fast money," Wang Feiyin said meaningfully. "And how do you know they only want money? What if someone just likes eating children with cultivation? Like how some people like eating lamb."

Pan Yun shuddered. Seeing Miao Zhen and Seeing Miao He looked equally terrified.

"Big Brother Wang is scaring people again," said a female Daoist Priest, standing atop a stone wall, looking down at them.

Fuxing Monastery had a two-story structure with three courtyards front to back, similar in layout to Mount Sanqing Monastery.

It was just more spacious, its color brighter—a vermilion red—and it looked newer.

To the east stood a hill, and right beside it, a stone wall had been built along the outer edge to prevent falling rocks and soil.

The stone wall clung tightly to the hill, rising only halfway up its slope, so when one looked eastward, one saw a hillside of bamboo. Someone on top could leap down easily; the wall's highest point was only about three meters, and where they now stood, the wall was barely over a meter tall—someone on top could step down with a single motion.

Wang Feiyin stepped back two paces and asked, "How did Xuan Qiong get up there? Does Fuxing Temple even let you dig for bamboo shoots?"

Xuan Qiong shot him a glare and turned away. "Everyone from every temple and monastery has arrived—only your Sanqing Temple is missing. You're right nearby, yet you came later than we did. Clearly, Brother Wang doesn't care much for the Sanqing Gathering. Could it be because this year's gathering is being held at Fuxing Temple?"

Wang Feiyin: "You arrived early, but next year's Sanqing Gathering still has nothing to do with your Yuling Temple. What can you do when your temple has already left the Three Pure Realms? No amount of effort will change that."

Xuan Qiong sneered, "All you have is your lineage. Aside from your roots, what else do you have?"

Wang Feiyin: "I have a younger brother serving in the Taichang Temple, another younger brother with a miraculous healing touch, and a younger sister who struck down demons from eight thousand li away, shaking the winds and clouds."

Xuan Qiong's face flushed red. "What does that have to do with you?"

"Of course it does. My roots are my master, the Mountain God of Mount Sanqing. My influence is built by my younger siblings. Didn't you hear that, Sister Xuan Qiong? I don't just have roots—I have influence!"

Pan Yun, seeing the other's eyes blazing yet speechless, gently whispered to her, "Fellow Daoist, he's using his influence to bully you."

Xuan Qiong shouted, "You're bullying me with your influence!"

"Nonsense—who's there? Who's there?" Wang Feiyin looked left and right, asking Pan Yun and the others, "Did any of you see anyone?"

Pan Yun shook her head first. Seeing Miao Zhen and Seeing Miao He hesitated, then followed suit.

Xuan Qiong widened her eyes in disbelief, staring at Pan Yun. Just a moment ago, Pan Yun had warned her—and now she was siding with Wang Feiyin to humiliate her?

Xuan Qiong frowned. "Right, all three of you are from Sanqing Temple."

Pan Yun nodded vigorously and flashed her a bright smile. "I am Pan Yun, a direct disciple of the Mountain God of Mount Sanqing."

Xuan Qiong said flatly, "You just saw me, didn't you? A moment ago you claimed no one was there!"

Pan Yun turned to Wang Feiyin. "Big Brother, did you hear any strange sounds? It sounded like someone was speaking to me—but then again, maybe not."

"No, you must've heard things from staying up too late last night," Wang Feiyin grabbed the back of her robe and pulled her toward the main hall. "Hurry up. Don't keep our fellow Daoists waiting. Mount Sanqing follows rules strictly—we said the gathering begins at the hour of Si, and we won't arrive even a moment before."

The troublemaker was dragged away. Seeing Miao He and Seeing Miao Zhen hurried after him, leaving Xuan Qiong on the wall, furious.

"Typical Sanqing Temple disciple—disgusting!"

Today's lucky number is any number ending in 8, screenshot as proof.

(End of Chapter)