Volume One: The Sword of the Heavenly Son Chapter Twenty-Two: The Artificer
Upon hearing about the spirit-overflowing artifact, not only did Wu Dachuan not make things difficult, he actually let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s easy enough. As long as you can pay with spirit stones or banknotes, Junior Brother Yun, I can get you a spirit-overflowing artifact at a price lower than the market!”
Afraid Yun Que wouldn’t believe him, Wu Dachuan swore a solemn oath, “Rest assured! The quality is absolutely guaranteed. If you’re not satisfied, you can return it anytime!”
Yun Que had never planned to ask for a spirit-overflowing artifact from Wu Dachuan for free. His intention was simply to buy one, or to trade for one with the flying sword he carried.
Upon learning that silver notes were also acceptable, Yun Que’s heart stirred at once. He carried with him banknotes worth a million taels, all seized from the Apothecary Temple. Ten thousand had been left with Old He for buying a residence, leaving him with nine hundred thousand taels.
He had thought that silver would be of little use in the Sword Palace, but unexpectedly, it could actually buy a spirit-overflowing artifact.
This was a delightful surprise!
Yun Que pointed at the ring on Wu Dachuan’s hand and asked calmly, “For a spirit-overflowing ring like yours, how much silver would it take?”
“At least one hundred thousand taels, and that’s only because of my connections. Anyone else wouldn’t get that price,” Wu Dachuan replied confidently.
Yun Que nodded inwardly. One hundred thousand taels for a spirit-overflowing artifact was indeed not expensive. He had once mortgaged a marquisate worth that amount to Hu Tieshan in exchange for a low-grade flying sword, and even the most ordinary spirit-overflowing artifact would not cost less than a low-grade flying sword.
“I’ll take one. How do we make the exchange?”
Yun Que actually didn’t need a spirit-overflowing ring that much; he just wanted it for cover. As a sword servant, if he wielded sword energy directly, it would surely arouse suspicion.
“Prepare your banknotes. Tomorrow, I’ll take you somewhere where you can pick whichever spirit-overflowing artifact you like.”
With the proper business settled, Wu Dachuan relaxed considerably and began to chat, “That lot from the East Wing have long needed a lesson. Every year they trample us from the North Wing in the Sword Child Competition, strutting about and claiming our wing is all women and cowards. Bah! Now they’ll finally find out what real courage is!”
“Oh, right, Junior Brother Yun, do you have a grudge against that fellow with the Thunder Spirit Root?”
Yun Que smiled, “He insulted my father.”
“No wonder! If someone insulted my father, I’d fight them too! Wait, but how does he know your father? Is your father famous?”
“Fairly. My father is the Marquis of Yanmen.”
“Marquis of Yanmen… you’re Yun Changji’s son! I’ll fight you!”
Wu Dachuan’s expression changed abruptly. His eyes went wide, and with a shout, he lunged at Yun Que.
Yun Que countered with ease and quickly subdued him.
As for the little dog Wangcai, he didn’t dare come near Yun Que at all, keeping his distance.
Wu Dachuan’s hands were tied, and he struggled and roared, but his shouting soon turned into sobs.
“Give me back my father, give him back! Wuwuwu…”
A grown man, his face streaked with snot and tears, looked utterly wretched.
Yun Que sat to the side in silence. He could more or less guess why Wu Dachuan had lost control upon hearing the words “Marquis of Yanmen.”
Wu Dachuan stopped choking and said hoarsely, “My father was once a captain, serving under the Marquis of Yanmen. Five years ago, he died in Hanshui City… Why!”
His eyes bloodshot, Wu Dachuan shouted hysterically, “Why did they all die without ever leaving the city? A hundred thousand soldiers! They didn’t fall on the battlefield, but all perished trapped within the city walls—why?”
Yun Que sat in the corner, the shadow from the rafters veiling the bitterness in his eyes.
“I wish I knew.”
With that, Yun Que untied Wu Dachuan.
The other made no further move, nor did he cry out again. After a long silence, he forced a smile and said, “That was just a test of your skills, Junior Brother Yun, don’t take it to heart. Good skills! With you with us, we’re sure to gain much in the trip to Misty Mountain!”
He lied and then took his leave.
The grievances of their fathers had little to do with their own generation. It was just the pain of memories, an unwillingness to let go.
At the door, Wu Dachuan heard a deep, solemn voice behind him.
“What happened back then—I will get to the bottom of it, sooner or later.”
Wu Dachuan did not look back. He clenched his fists tightly and went out the door.
Yun Que could not calm his heart for a long time.
In the Battle of Hanshui, one hundred thousand soldiers died within the city. Each had a family. There were surely more families like Wu Dachuan’s—at least a hundred thousand.
Tens of thousands of broken-hearted people would never see their sons, fathers, or husbands again.
And Yun Que himself was one of them.
The next day, a light rain fell.
The long streets of the imperial city were as bustling as ever, the crowds undiminished.
Wu Dachuan led Yun Que to the western part of the city, to a street called Willow Lane.
It was a special street. Shops on both sides sold items needed for cultivation: elixirs, spirit materials, flying swords, talismans.
Here, cultivators traded with each other. It was also known as the trading market.
At the end of the lane, Wu Dachuan knocked on the door of a modest courtyard, and Yun Que followed him inside.
The yard was small but impeccably tidy, with blooming flowers on either side.
The owner was a woman around thirty, already streaked with gray, her features plain but her appearance neat, her makeup refined, her manner graceful and calm.
Her name was Si Ruonan, a craftsman who sold all kinds of magical implements.
“Senior Si, we’d like to buy a spirit-overflowing ring, paid in banknotes.”
Wu Dachuan entered the house and spoke respectfully, not daring to look around, as if before an elder.
“One hundred thousand taels each. Choose for yourself.”
Si Ruonan pointed to a wooden shelf on the side, on which were dozens of spirit-overflowing artifacts of all shapes.
Yun Que picked out a ring.
On the shelf were not only spirit-overflowing artifacts, but also all manner of magical implements: some were fans, some wine cups, all sorts of strange things, while blades and swords were actually few.
He picked up a mid-grade longsword, weighed it, and asked, “How much is this one?”
“Five thousand taels for low grade, thirty thousand for mid grade, a hundred thousand minimum for high grade.”
The sword was excellent, and the price was very good—much better than Hu Tieshan’s, and, most importantly, it could be paid for in silver notes.
If in the future he could not get finished flying swords, earning more money to buy them here would not be a bad idea.
A craftsman willing to take silver was rare indeed.
Yun Que put down the longsword, took out the prepared note for a hundred thousand taels, and bought the spirit-overflowing ring.
With the transaction completed, the two were about to leave.
“Wait.”
Si Ruonan stopped them and said to Yun Que, “Your inner armor—where did it come from?”
“A friend gave it to me.”
Yun Que did not know what she meant by this.
Being able to tell he wore inner armor must mean she had sensed it with spiritual perception—she must be at least at Foundation Establishment level. Those in the Qi Refinement stage could not develop spiritual perception.
“May I have a look?” Si Ruonan asked.
Yun Que readily agreed, taking off the inner armor and handing it over.
She examined it for a long time, then took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if moved.
She returned the armor, her voice low as she asked, “Is the one who gave you this armor well these days?”
“He’s doing fine. Enjoys forging, drinking tea, and thinking about my marquisate from time to time.”
“Does he have family?”
“He has a son, who’s eaten and freeloaded at my house since childhood.”
“He never remarried?”
“No, I think he’s just not interested in women.”
Si Ruonan asked no more. After a nod of thanks, she warned, “Willow Lane has been unsettled lately. You two best be careful.”
Leaving the courtyard, Yun Que was certain that the craftsman Si Ruonan knew Hu Tieshan.
What connection the two might have, he could not say.