Chapter Six: Achievement

Great Chu was well-known to him; to the south, the empire of Great Chu stretched across ample lands, though not as vast as Great Yong, and its strength was somewhat lesser. Unfortunately, this place lay an unfathomable distance from Great Chu.

“I have another novel,” Qin Yi said, handing over the manuscript he had titled “Golden Porcelain Dream.”

The main plot of this short novel was adapted from the first ten chapters of the illustrious “Golden Lotus” from his previous life. He trimmed the beginning and the end, added some original content, and penned a retribution-filled finale where evil met its due. He could have written more, but only remembered the gist of those first ten chapters; the dozens that followed had faded from memory, making a longer version impossible.

“Oh? Is this a tale for amusement and diversion?” The old man’s interest was piqued as he flipped through the pages.

“Something like that,” Qin Yi nodded.

If this one didn’t earn him any manuscript fee, he would have to find other ways to make silver.

“Hmm, the short and ugly Wu Da… Golden Lotus… Lord Qing…” The old man’s eyes grew brighter as he read.

Within a short while, he finished the ten or twenty thousand words.

“The ending is a bit abrupt; truly, it could be much longer! Your prose is rather rough, but your plot is fresh. I’ll take this manuscript for five taels of silver—will you sell?” the old man said blandly. He could later find someone to polish the writing; there was sure to be a market for it.

“Deal!” Qin Yi replied without hesitation.

This was the only private publisher in Jinyuan County—he knew bargaining would be fruitless.

In truth, five taels was far beyond his expectations.

As he left the book hall, Qin Yi couldn’t help but recall a saying from ancient bibliopoles in his previous life: “Selling old texts is no match for current essays; printing essays is no match for printing novels!”

It was already noon. Walking down the street, Qin Yi spent six copper coins on two large meat buns, eating as he went to inquire about the current prices of grain and meat.

Before long—

“Grain has risen to thirteen copper coins a pound?” Qin Yi mused. No wonder the two meat buns cost him six coins just now!

Last year, grain was only five coins a pound. But as war broke out continuously in the north, prices soared: half a year ago, grain reached ten coins per pound, and now, after another two or three months, it had climbed to thirteen.

He then checked the price of meat.

Pork at the butcher’s now cost forty coins per pound.

“Might as well visit the pharmacy.”

It wasn’t long before Qin Yi emerged with a darkened expression.

A ten-year-old wild ginseng root sold for two taels of silver.

A twenty-year-old wild ginseng root fetched five taels.

Over the past days, he’d also figured out some rules regarding how the system absorbed medicinal materials. The forests surrounding Azure Micro Daoist Palace were rich with wild herbs, but the system rejected herbs with only “heat-clearing and detoxifying” properties, accepting only those that “nourished qi and blood,” “fortified the body,” or were considered powerful tonics.

“For now, buying meat is more practical. When I have more money, I’ll experiment with medicinal herbs,” Qin Yi resolved.

First, he wanted to know whether combining multiple qi- and blood-nourishing herbs in a single recharge would yield more energy points, or if buying a single high-quality, old herb would prove more valuable.

So, for now, meat would suffice. Previously, some fifty pounds of assorted meat—rat, bird, and various other scraps—would net him a single energy point.

If he bought pork or beef, surely it would be more efficient. He might need less than fifty pounds for an energy point.

Just to be safe, he’d test herbs next time.

In the afternoon, Qin Yi started back toward Cangwu Town.

He had no intention of buying meat at the butcher’s—there was always a middleman’s markup. Instead, he could go directly to a village and buy a pig.

The price would certainly be cheaper.

By dusk, Qin Yi finally returned to Cangwu Town.

At home, Qin Zumin was cooking. Suddenly, hearing a commotion in the yard, he hurried out.

“Fourth Son, you’re back?”

“It’s been a while since I saw you, Father, so I came home to visit.” Qin Yi grinned widely.

If not for his father sending him to Azure Micro Daoist Palace, he’d probably be in the army now—or dead on the northern battlefield.

“Good, good!”

“But why did you buy meat? The money I gave you wasn’t much; you ought to save it,” Qin Zumin scolded, seeing Qin Yi holding more than a pound of pork.

“Father, I recently sold some manuscript novels to the county’s book hall and earned over a tael of silver.” As he spoke, Qin Yi took out a tael to hand to his father.

“Manuscript novels?” Qin Zumin was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected his son to have such a talent. In the past, he’d looked down upon scholars who wrote fiction, but now, in such hard times, earning an honest living was already quite an achievement.

“Keep it for yourself. I can still support myself,” Qin Zumin said sternly.

“Father, I hardly spend any money up in the mountains.”

“Hurry up and fry the meat!”

“All right.” Seeing that his father wouldn’t accept the silver, Qin Yi didn’t insist.

That evening, father and son ate together.

“Your third brother sent a letter a few days ago. He says he’s been promoted to squad leader, though whether that’s a blessing or a curse, I can’t say. I’d rather he came home soon than stay in the army! The northern war is a disaster—never mind a squad leader, even a general isn’t safe!” Qin Zumin sighed.

“Is there no hope of ending the northern war anytime soon?” Qin Yi asked.

At Azure Micro Daoist Palace, he was largely ignorant of the situation.

“No hope. Our Great Yong is waning; we’re nowhere near our former strength. Several powerful lords control their own armies and territories. In recent years, natural disasters have been rampant, and there have been many uprisings. The northern Yuan is strong, and they’ve been eyeing us for ages—won’t rest until they’ve taken a piece of us!”

“Not long ago, the Yuan even boasted they’d destroy us within a year—arrogant beyond measure!”

“Thankfully, our Emperor is resolute. He sent the three best imperial legions—three hundred thousand elite soldiers—north to fight the Yuan. In just three months, more than half those troops perished, along with six hundred thousand border soldiers. Still, they managed to hold off the Yuan’s strongest assault.

“This past year, we’ve lost over fifty cities in the north—one-fifth of Great Yong’s territory. But the Emperor’s resolve is unwavering. He’s warned the powerful lords that their fates rise or fall together. Half a year ago, four lords combined forces and marched north with four hundred thousand troops to resist the Yuan!

“Three months ago, the Emperor sent the Crown Prince south to borrow troops from Chu. Surely Chu knows that when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold. News just arrived a few days ago: Chu agreed to send two hundred thousand men north! Hmph, the Yuan wants to make us slaves? They’re not strong enough!” The more Qin Zumin spoke, the more impassioned he became, spittle flying.

“It seems the war won’t end anytime soon,” Qin Yi thought grimly.

The next morning, he rose early and went to a nearby village, where he bought a two-hundred-pound native pig from an old farmer for twenty-five coins a pound.

Without the middleman’s markup, it was fifteen coins a pound cheaper.

“Exactly five taels of silver.”

He led the pig to a secluded grove, placed his hand on its back, and silently intoned: Recharge!

The native pig vanished into thin air.