Chapter 120

Fang Yuan's mind was filled with nothing but the eight characters "fitness, health, longevity," his eyes shining brightly as he asked, "Young Daoist, what pills can improve fitness, health, and longevity?"

"Besides the purple gold pill, qi-initiating pill, and spirit-guiding pill, there are also the internal-strengthening pill, immortal longevity pill, and longevity-unchanging pill."

The names were blunt and easy to understand—just reading them made one's heart leap.

Fang Yuan was indeed tempted; he asked, "Do your temple also brew the immortal longevity pill and the longevity-unchanging pill?"

Pan Yun turned to look at Tao Ji.

Tao Ji shook his head directly, "No, these two pills use expensive ingredients; our temple rarely brews them—they're custom-made."

Pan Yun smiled slightly at Fang Yuan and nodded, "Yes, these pills are extremely expensive; ordinary people won't buy them."

Fang Yuan hurriedly said, "I will! Daoist, how much does one pill cost? I'll buy two of each."

Tao Ji glanced at him and said, "One hundred taels."

Fang Yuan's face froze; he fell silent.

Tao Ji was about to sneer and mock him for boasting, but Pan Yun sighed before him, "Even at one hundred taels, we can't brew them now."

Fang Yuan quietly exhaled, quickly asking, "Why?"

"Because the ingredients are hard to obtain; some must be picked from cliff faces, and it's not the right season for harvesting—so even if you give us money, we can't brew them yet."

Fang Yuan let out a breath and smiled, "That's fine, I can wait. Then, when you've gathered all the ingredients, just tell me—I'll still order two of each."

Pan Yun agreed with a smile, but unless Fang Yuan suddenly became rich, she would never tell him the ingredients were ready.

Fang Yuan bent down to examine the bottles and jars on the stall and asked, "Daoist, how much are these pills?"

The pills on the stall were much cheaper; Tao Ji explained, "This is the wound-healing ointment you asked about—one bottle for two taels; these are the purple gold pill, qi-initiating pill, and spirit-guiding pill—all three taels per bottle, five pills inside each…"

He pointed to a pile of bottles and jars, "This entire pile is one tael per bottle—each labeled with name and effect; pick freely."

Fang Yuan leaned in to read the names and effects, swallowed hard, and wanted them all.

He glanced at the stacks of talismans pressed beneath them, took one look, then looked away, fixing his gaze back on the bottles and jars.

He looked around, then gritted his teeth and asked, "Daoist, if I buy a lot, can you give me a discount?"

Tao Ji said, "This is already the discounted price. I sell the wound-healing ointment to pharmacies for three taels per bottle; they resell it for five taels. Don't you know our Mount Sanqing wound-healing ointment is famous throughout the land, and pharmacies only sell it to martial artists and high officials?"

Fang Yuan: "I know that, but isn't this the inner courtyard?"

Tao Ji replied dryly, "It's already been discounted."

Pan Yun gazed helplessly at the sky; Wang Cong stepped forward with a smile and spoke to Fang Yuan, "Daoist, why are you buying so much wound-healing ointment? Our ointment contains notoginseng powder—it can be applied externally to stop bleeding, or taken internally…"

Wang Cong talked with Fang Yuan about the wound-healing ointment for a quarter-hour, then casually moved on to other pills; they chatted for nearly half an hour, until the pile of medicine before Fang Yuan grew large. Finally, he gritted his teeth and paid one hundred and five taels in silver notes, walking away with a sack full of bottles and jars.

Wang Cong chatted with him for ages but didn't reduce the price by a single copper—but Fang Yuan spent the money gladly, heart full of joy.

As Fang Yuan gathered his bottles and jars to leave, a quiet corner suddenly burst into activity—Daoists suddenly remembered Mount Sanqing's stall and began circling past the camellias to enter.

Their first choice was naturally the pills.

Wound-healing ointment was essential; purple gold pill and other cultivation-aiding pills couldn't be missed.

They understood far more than Fang Yuan, the outsider, and knew well which pills Mount Sanqing always brought each year, so they bought blindly.

They didn't ask prices—just grabbed them in loud clatters.

Fang Yuan watched them spend one or two hundred taels in the blink of an eye, and couldn't help but gasp—no wonder his grandfather had raised his cane and beaten him the moment he mentioned becoming a Daoist, calling him a wastrel who must be cast out—so Daoist cultivation truly cost this much?

It was said the Wang family's second branch in Le Ping Village had once been prominent, but after Wang Feiyin appeared, their fortunes began to decline.

Their family assets were gradually squandered; aside from helping neighbors and gaining a reputation as a great benefactor, they gained nothing.

Everyone publicly praised Wang Feiyin as kind, generous, and benevolent, but behind his back, many called him foolish, a wastrel, squandering a fine family fortune.

For example, his grandfather had often mentioned this privately, warning them: help neighbors if you must, but never squander the family fortune, and never become a Daoist.

As more people arrived, this small corner came alive; with vitality came flowing feng shui, drawing even more vitality and wealth.

Pan Yun smiled, quietly moving to the side of the camellia tree, pulling down a yellow talisman hidden among its branches—vitality had risen, the feng shui layout had changed; there was no need to keep this talisman anymore.

The commotion here quickly attracted even more people; though one had to circle around a camellia tree and a flowerbed stood in the middle, the spot was spacious and private—unlike outside, where multiple stalls made comparison easy, but also left every purchase completely visible, with zero privacy.

The senior and junior disciples circled past the camellia tree and arrived just as the previous group finished selecting pills; seeing this new group enter, they nodded and left.

The disciples glanced around; since Fang Yuan also wore a Daoist robe and stood beside Wang Cong, they gave him a quick look and dismissed him, assuming he was an unfamiliar outer-disciple of Mount Sanqing. They stepped forward, glanced at the labels on the bottles and jars, and immediately began grabbing items—no bargaining at all.

Not only did no one bargain at Mount Sanqing's stall—no one bargained at any stall outside either.

Every year, the Mount Sanqing Gathering was tacitly recognized as a gathering for Daoists, and to facilitate Daoist friends, all artifacts, pills, and talismans were sold at the most favorable prices.

Thus, it attracted not only many Daoists, but also numerous monks and nuns, and even cultivated Confucian scholars found ways to sneak in and join the bustle, hunting for treasures.

They paid cheerfully, rose, and noticed the talismans pressed beneath the pile—then walked over to inspect them.

Their eyes immediately landed on the topmost stack—Pan Yun's talismans—and they stepped forward to pick through them, "Are these Master Wang's talismans? Not Master Zhang's?"

Master Xuanmiao: "They're my junior sister's."

The disciples hesitated slightly, thinking Pan Yun too young—but the spiritual energy shimmering on them clearly marked them as successful talismans, and the power was substantial.

So they still began selecting from the pile, "Is this entire stack ten taels per talisman?"

"Yes."

!. Read

"How much is Master Zhang's talismans this year?"

Tao Ji lifted his chin slightly, "Same as last year—twelve taels per talisman."

Master Xuanmiao's talismans were better drawn than Wang Feiyin's; previously, Pan Yun naturally couldn't match her—but since she relearned this world's talisman fundamentals and understood how to sincerely invoke the gods into the talismans, her talismans were no worse than Master Xuanmiao's.

But reputation stood where it stood; within the Gathering's inner courtyard, Daoists still tacitly agreed that Master Xuanmiao's talismans were the best.

Not the best on Mount Sanqing—but the best in the entire inner courtyard.

Even the old Daoist from the host temple, Fuxing Temple, rushed over first and bought furiously—choosing only Master Xuanmiao's talismans, terrified he'd arrive too late and find none left.

But when he arrived, many of Master Xuanmiao's talismans were already gone; the old Daoist sighed in regret, "I wanted to buy several more Lei Fu and Lei Jian Fu—yet none remain. Strange—didn't you usually open for sales only after the Shen hour? How did you sell so many already by the Wei hour?"

Tao Ji replied irritably, "Can't our luck just improve?"

The old Daoist thought carefully for a moment, then said, "It really has gotten better. The position of Bing-3 may not be great, but it's still better than Ding-4 and Ding-5. In previous years, your Grand Martial Brother at most managed to draw Ding-4."

Tao Ji: "Who drew Ding-4 and Ding-5 this year?"

"No one. Fuyuan Temple originally drew Ding-4, but they have good connections, so they paired up with a ring from our Laozi Palace Monastery and went off together. Ding-5 ended up with no one drawing it."

Tao Ji, furious: "Those bald donkeys from Fuyuan Temple have good connections? Are they really better connected than our Sanqing Monastery?"

The old Daoist was silent for quite a while before saying, "It's not just a matter of connections. Your Grand Martial Brother's luck has always been bad, and the others are also afraid that getting too close would rub off his bad luck on them, so…"

Tao Ji gave a cold snort, but had nothing to say in reply.

Sanqing Monastery's bad connections didn't start out this terrible either.

Tao Ji remembered that when he was young, following his Grand Martial Brother to the Sanqing Grand Assembly, wherever they went they were warmly welcomed.

Wang Feiyin's attainments in the Dao of Alchemy were extremely high, and many monks and Daoists placed orders for pills with him. But his luck grew worse and worse, and the manifestations grew more and more frequent. Although the pills he refined were as excellent as ever, everyone still couldn't help but keep their distance from him.

And then they kept their distance from them.

Tao Ji felt deeply indignant about the unfair treatment his Grand Martial Brother received and wanted to flare up, but had no idea how to.

Master Xuanmiao said with a cold face, "There's something I need to inform everyone of this year. Next year, the pills and talismans of our Sanqing Monastery will all be raising their prices."

The old Daoist was stunned and hurriedly asked, "Why raise the prices?"

Master Xuanmiao: "Cinnabar has gone up in price, all the materials are rising. If we don't raise ours too, we'll be running a losing business. There's no time to announce it this year, so we'll keep the current prices, but next year we definitely have to raise them."

Pan Yun swallowed the words that had risen to her lips. Fourth Senior Sister was far more formidable than her at trading verbal blows—she was hitting them where it really hurt.

Pan Yun indicated she had learned something.

The old Daoist's face scrunched up into a knot. Wincing at the pain, he selected even more talismans and pills, while at the same time trying to persuade, "Materials are going up, so everyone's costs for pills and talismans are rising, but they aren't raising their prices either."

Master Xuanmiao: "They have good luck, so even selling at low prices they can still make money. Our Sanqing Monastery can't."

Wang Cong nodded and said with a smile, "That's right, Martial Uncle Wei. Our Sanqing Monastery has always had poor luck. With costs rising like this, we'd be running a losing business."

Today's lucky number is one ending in 9. Screenshot as proof.

(End of this chapter)