Chương 97: The Village of Gold

The caravan moved in fits and starts, and after a full day and night of bumpy travel, they finally reached their destination. Zhujia Village. Zhujia Village sat at the edge of the mountain range that marked the border between Great Sheng and Great Li. Zhu Old Six said it was so remote and poorly connected that the village had always been small. When he'd left, there were only a few dozen households.

The moment the caravan stopped at the village entrance, Zhu Old Six jumped off the cart, eager to see his long-abandoned home. The old thatched huts and mud-brick houses were gone, replaced by green brick buildings and even rows of two-story houses. He clicked his tongue in amazement.

"Beautiful. Damn beautiful. Old Eight, come take a look. Zhujia Village has really changed." Zhao Old Eight poked his head out of the oxcart and scoffed. Hmph. A bunch of idiots. With all that gold, why stay in a dump like this? If it were me, I'd head straight to the prefecture city. Plenty of fun there, way more than rotting in some village."

"Makes sense. What's the point of building up a backwater like this? Might as well move to the city and buy a big house." Zhu Old Six nodded in agreement. Fang Cheng chuckled. But we're supposed to be general agents. If you run off to the prefecture city, some third-level agent back here could whisper a few words in the wrong ear and get us all demoted."

"You're right, Second. We need to stick close to Zhujia Village and not leave." Zhu Old Six gave Fang Cheng an approving look. Zhao Old Eight shot Fang Cheng a glare and warned him, "Listen, kid, the general agent spots are for Old Six and me. You're our downline. Best you can hope for is first-level agent. Got it?"

"Got it, got it. I'm your man, Old Eight. Whatever you say goes. You want chili in the hotpot, I won't add sugar. Haha, slurp..." Fang Cheng nodded and bowed, wiping the drool from his mouth.

"Good. You know your place." Zhao Old Eight nodded with satisfaction. The mention of chili and sugar seemed odd to Zhao Old Eight, but he didn't think much of it. After two days on the road, he'd decided Fang Cheng was just a simpleton who only cared about eating. Not worth worrying about. Zhu Old Six patted Fang Cheng's shoulder. No point standing around out here. Everyone else was already heading into the village. Let's not be the last ones in."

"Fine. Let's go in." Zhao Old Eight agreed. Fang Cheng nodded, and the three of them walked into the village. The bearded team leader was waiting for them. He pulled gold bars from his storage ring and handed them out according to the list, placing the right amount in each of their hands. After he finished, he said in a mysterious tone, "Spend it wisely." Zhao Old Eight rolled his eyes. Gold's ours. We'll spend it however we want. What's there to spend money on in this dump anyway?"

Zhu Old Six urged him, "Forget that. Let's hurry and find some of the old folks still living here." He seemed to have forgotten about giving Fang Cheng his share of the gold bars, though it was just as likely he'd conveniently let it slip his mind. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Fang Cheng didn't care about the gold. He opened his Heavenly Eye and began scanning the village for Self-Help Association cultivators hiding among the crowd.

The village was bustling. Throngs of people packed the main street, the noise and chaos like a prefecture city market. Stalls lined both sides, vendors hawking their wares. Most of the stalls sold food. Steamed buns, meat buns, flatbreads. Business was booming. The steaming baskets were already empty, leaving a crowd of hungry customers waiting for the next batch.

"Fresh out of the steamer! White-flour steamed buns, piping hot! One bite and you'll melt!" A vendor carried out a basket of steaming buns and set it on his wooden counter. Immediately, a crowd swarmed around him, hands reaching for the basket.

"Hold it! Line up one by one. Anyone who cuts in, I'm reporting you to the Association Leader himself. You know what happens then." The vendor snapped at them, covering the basket tightly with a cloth. The crowd fell into line, no one daring to push ahead. Some even had fear in their eyes.

"Give me two big buns. Here's twenty gold bars." A ragged man pulled out twenty gleaming bars and handed them to the vendor.

"One per person. That's the limit." The vendor snorted, pushed ten bars back, and handed the man a single bun. The man looked miserable. I used to eat ten buns in one sitting. One bun won't fill me up."

"Fill you up? You want to be full? You need to go hungry for a few days. Shrink that stomach of yours, then you'll be full."

"But I..." The man tried to argue, but the people behind him grew impatient.

"Hey, move it! Stop wasting time."

"Yeah, don't think just because you're big, we're afraid of you."

"Trying to buy more than one? If you buy them all, what's left for us?"

"Exactly. Get lost." The man shot one last longing look at the steamer basket, then walked away with his single bun. He squatted by the roadside and took tiny, careful bites, his face full of bliss, as if savoring the finest delicacy in the world. Zhu Old Six was curious. A bun that cost ten gold bars and was limited to one per person? Something was fishy. Maybe it was made from Immortal Crystals? He walked over to the man and asked quietly, "Brother, why is this bun so expensive?"

"It's fragrant. Here, smell for yourself." The man leaned in close, letting Zhu Old Six take a whiff. Zhu Old Six frowned. It smells just like any other bun to me."

"Pfft. What do you know?" The man looked at him with contempt. This bun has another name. It's called Wind and Rain. You know what that means?"

"What does it mean?"

"Tch. Country bumpkin." The man explained with disdain, "The flour for this bun comes from a wheat field at the foot of a sacred mountain. The great immortals sowed the seeds in the midst of howling winds. Those seeds endured the scorching sun, torrential rains, lightning strikes, and thunderous roars. After long years of trial, they took root, sprouted, and grew into wheat. Then the immortals harvested them and ground them into divine wheat flour. Strong, beautiful, and brimming with spiritual energy.

That's right! This is divine wheat flour. After all that suffering, it became the bun in my hand. Do you see how great it is?" The man grew more animated as he spoke, spittle flying from his mouth. Zhu Old Six was swept up in the excitement. He pulled out a gold bar and pressed it into the man's hand. Brother, break off a piece and let me have a taste." The man took the gold without hesitation and broke off a piece no bigger than a fingernail. Zhu Old Six complained, "That's too small.

Ten gold bars for a whole bun. I gave you one bar; you should at least give me a tenth of it."

"Take it or leave it." The man snorted. Zhu Old Six had no choice. He took the tiny crumb, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed slowly. The more he chewed, the worse his expression became. Zhao Old Eight walked over. How is it?" Zhu Old Six quickly changed his expression, laughed, and gave a thumbs up. Fragrant. Really fragrant. Sweet too. Sweet and fragrant, with a hint of immortal energy. After eating it, I felt warm all over, full of energy. I felt like I was about to ascend. Old Eight, you have to try it."

Zhao Old Eight's mouth watered at the description. He looked at the long line and figured he'd never make it to the front. So he went up to the man and traded a gold bar for a crumb the size of a fingernail. He tossed it into his mouth and chewed carefully. His expression soured. No. He couldn't believe it. He kept chewing, working the crumb over and over with his saliva, his tongue, his teeth, his lips. After a long while, Zhao Old Eight finally accepted the truth.

"Fuck your immortal buns. You think I've never eaten a bun before? This is exactly the same as the ones they sell in the prefecture city for a few copper coins!"