The sun was beginning its slow descent over Wu Tan City, casting long, golden shadows across the bustling streets. Yoriichi Tsugikuni walked away from the Miteer Auction House, the heavy leather pouch tied securely to his waist. It held exactly eight thousand five hundred and fifty gold coins.
It was a fortune. For a branch family disciple, it was enough to live in luxury for a decade.
Yoriichi's mind, however, was already allocating the funds. "I need Star-Fallen Iron for the core. Platinum flux for the fold. Perhaps a Rank 2 Fire Beast Core to assist Master Tie Shan with the furnace temperature..."
He paused at a crossroad. To his right lay the city's sprawling materials market, where rchants shouted the prices of rare ores. To his left lay the path back to the Xiao Clan estate.
He looked down at the pouch. He felt the weight of the gold, but then his mind shifted to a different kind of weight.
"A debt of honor," Yoriichi thought, letting out a soft sigh.
It had been many days since he had first awakened in the infirmary, starving and weak. He had gone to the cooking hall and eaten a massive amount of food, leaving with an I.O.U. and facing the terrifying wrath of the Head Chef. He had promised to pay. A swordsman—and a man of honor—did not let his debts fester, no matter how much his sword needed forging.
He turned away from the market. The ores could wait until tomorrow.
He walked steadily, the ambient noise of the city fading as he crossed the threshold of the Xiao Clan gates. He navigated the familiar winding paths, heading straight for the clan's sprawling culinary district.
Long before he reached the building, the air grew thick with the scent of roasting at, boiling bone broth, and the sharp tang of spicy spirit-herbs. The clatter of iron woks and the shouting of apprentices echoed into the courtyard.
Yoriichi didn't walk through the main dining area. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
"Transparent World."
His vision shifted. The solid stone walls of the culinary compound beca translucent. He saw the flowing, multicolored auras of the cooks and servants rushing about like busy ants. He scanned the building until he found what he was looking for—a massive, dense core of fiery green Dou Qi sitting in a small, isolated room near the back storage.
"Chef Zhang. 1-Star Dou Shi." Yoriichi opened his eyes and walked around the building, stepping through a side door and navigating the narrow, dimly lit corridors slling of dried garlic and cured ham.
He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and pushed it open.
It was like an office. Stacks of parchnt, ledgers, and abacuses cluttered a large oak desk. Sitting behind it was Chef Zhang, his massive, muscular fra hunched over an account book. He was rubbing his temples, a deep scowl etched into his scarred face. Managing the food budget for an entire clan of cultivators was a thankless, stressful job.
Hearing the door open without a knock, Chef Zhang's scowl deepened.
"I told you, no more requisitions for Rank 2 Magic Beast at until next month!" Zhang barked without looking up.
When no one answered, the Chef's head snapped up.
Seeing the red-robed teenager standing there, Zhang frowned. An instinctual wave of irritation washed over him, and without thinking, his body reacted.
BOOM.
The heavy, oppressive aura of a Dou Shi flared out from the Chef's body. It was an unintentional release of pressure, born from stress, sweeping through the small room like a physical shockwave. Papers fluttered wildly, and the wooden chair groaned.
Zhang expected the 9-Star Dou Zhi qi to imdiately drop to one knee, gasping for air.
But Yoriichi didn't move.
He stood perfectly still, his stoic face unchanged, his crimson eyes calmly eting the Chef's shocked gaze. His red robes barely fluttered. Having just resisted the pressure of the Miteer Head Guard, this felt like a familiar, manageable breeze.
Zhang's eyes widened. He quickly reigned in his aura, realizing his mistake, but his shock remained. "How is he standing? That was raw Dou Shi pressure... this kid's foundation is like solid iron!"
"What's the matter?" Chef Zhang grunted, trying to mask his surprise with his usual gruff deanor. "Got any money for the food, Xiao Ning? Or are you here to write another I.O.U.?"
Yoriichi nodded calmly. "Hmm... take these."
He untied a smaller pouch from his belt—one he had separated while walking—and tossed it onto the desk.
Thud.
It landed with a heavy, tallic clink right on top of the open ledger.
"I hope it can cover the expenses enough," Yoriichi said.
Chef Zhang raised a thick eyebrow. He picked up the pouch. The mont his calloused hand closed around the leather, his jaw dropped. He untied the string and looked inside.
The soft, golden glow of freshly minted coins illuminated his face.
"Wait..." Zhang stamred, his gruff voice cracking. He poured a handful onto the desk. "This... this is at least two thousand gold coins! Did you rob a bank or what?"
Zhang stared at Yoriichi in utter disbelief. The Xiao Clan's monthly stipend for a young master was perhaps fifty gold.
"These are more than enough for our entire hall for a month," Zhang continued, quickly scooping the coins back into the bag. He pulled out five gold pieces and pushed the heavy pouch back toward Yoriichi.
"I am taking fifty only. That covers your debt and a little extra. It's enough. Take the rest with you, kid. It's too much. You need more for your cultivation pills and martial skills."
Yoriichi didn't reach for the bag.
"I have enough money now," Yoriichi said, his tone flat and unyielding. "I am an assistant blacksmith to Master Tie Shan now. I earn good coin. So you do not need to worry about ."
Chef Zhang stared at the boy. He looked for any sign of arrogance, any hint of a lie, or the typical "silk-pants" boasting. He found nothing but terrifying sincerity. The boy's eyes were like deep, ancient wells.
"A blacksmith? Under Tie Shan?" Zhang thought, reeling. "That madman doesn't take apprentices. What has this kid been doing?"
Seeing that Yoriichi wouldn't take the money back, Zhang sighed heavily, running a massive hand over his bald head.
"Okay. So be it," Zhang conceded, pulling the pouch back. "You don't need to tension on this matter anymore. You already cleared the debt. Your tab is wiped clean."
Silence descended on the small office. The distant sounds of the kitchen felt muffled.
Chef Zhang looked at the gold, then at the ledgers that had been giving him a headache all morning. The prices of spirit herbs were rising, the Jia Lie clan was monopolizing the at markets, and the elders were demanding better als. This gold... it was a lifeline.
Zhang stood up. He walked around the large oak desk.
The massive Dou Shi, a veteran of countless battles and the undisputed tyrant of the cooking hall, lowered his head and bowed deeply to the teenager.
"I shouldn't have put my anger on you that day," Zhang said, his voice quiet, stripped of all its usual thunder. "I was frustrated on so logistical matters, and I took it out on a wounded disciple who was just hungry. It was unbefitting of an elder. Forgive , Young Master."
Because there were no other apprentices or workers in the room, there were no gossips or chats to witness this. It was a private, raw mont of a proud man admitting his fault.
----------------------------
Guys, Should i upload 2chs every other day or continue with 1ch/day?
u can tell which one is suitable.
And, hope u give rating and write a review that u needs improvent for story or anything. This little would support very much.
User Comments
0 comments from readers