My Stall Only Scams the Fated

Chen Mo awakened a path no one thought much of—the Way of Commerce. Others awakened blades, swords, thunder and fire; he awakened "selling things." He thought for three seconds, then decided to sell fakes. Mineral water mixed with essence, labeled "Secret Realm Spirit Spring," sold to dying rogue cultivators at fifty bucks a bottle. Banlangen cut with flour, packaged as "Ancient Elixir Recipes," sold to old cultivators stuck at bottlenecks for ten years at two hundred a pack. Scrap metal picked up from flea markets, polished and etched with a couple of patterns, sold as "Ancient Hidden Treasures" to suckers, starting at five hundred. When buyers came knocking to hack him up, Chen Mo didn't dodge or run. He just leaned back behind his stall: "Did you die of thirst after drinking the Spirit Spring? No, right? Did you go mad from qi deviation after taking the elixir recipe? No, right? Did the treasure blow up on you after you took it home? No, right? Nothing went wrong, so what gives you the right to call my goods fake?" Until one day, something that crawled out of an ancient hidden realm stood before his stall, picked up a bottle of tap water he'd just filled, looked at it for three seconds, and asked: "How much for this bottle of 'Heavenly Dao Essence'?" Chen Mo glanced at the half street still smoking behind the thing, then at the "Fake Goods—Ten Times Compensation" sign on his stall. "...Whatever you say it's worth." — Description from novelcodex.orgFull novel: My Stall Only Scams the Fated — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠