Time was running out.
Deacon Li was scheduled to arrive tomorrow.
Still, Wang Ba went about fermenting the feed, feeding the chickens, and cleaning in an orderly way.
By the time he finished, evening had set in.
The market would be closing soon.
Yet, Wang Ba wasn’t anxious. In fact, this was a calculated move.
During the day, the markets were crowded. Too many eyes. Carrying a large shipment of Spirit Poultry in broad daylight would inevitably attract unwanted attention.
If a cultivator happened to pass by, there was a chance they might see through his disguise. Wang Ba wasn’t arrogant enough to believe his “Yin Spirit Power” was impenetrable.
Going just before closing time significantly reduced the risk.
More importantly, Yin Spirit Power had another limitation.
The more people I need to deceive, the faster the Yin Spirit Power drains, Wang Ba reminded himself. Deceiving Old Hou and Niu Yong only consumed about one-twentieth of my reserves. That was manageable.
But a single drop would clearly not be enough to deceive everyone in a whole market at once.
He had to avoid the human tide.
After a moment of hesitation, he hoisted the bamboo basket containing thirteen Spirit Poultry onto his back.
He kept the unusual rooster as breeding stock, replacing the Jia-2 he had sold earlier.
That left four Spirit Poultry hidden at the manor: Jia-1 and the replacement Jia-2, both roosters, and Jia-3 and Jia-4, both hens.
Tonight, his destination wasn’t the nearby West Garden Market. Instead, he headed in the opposite direction, toward the ‘South Lake Market.’
Situated in a valley beside the South Lake, the market was nestled against mountains and water, boasting superb scenery.
It was still in the sect’s menial workers’ area, but on the outermost edge. A few li farther south lay the boundary of the Eastern Sage Sect.
Of course, the borders were patrolled by Outer Sect Disciples. A lowly laborer like him had no hope of slipping past their Immortal methods.
Not that Wang Ba intended to leave.
Despite the restrictions, this place was his sanctuary. Outside the Sect, where would he find a safe haven to raise Spirit Poultry and harvest Lifespan? Where else could he get free sacks of chicken feed?
Besides, he needed the market to restock his supply of Rare Fowl.
Perhaps thanks to the third layer of the Physique Strengthening Scripture, he could walk briskly even with thirteen Spirit Poultry on his back.
He stuck to the shadows, avoiding head-on encounters with other travelers. Every person he passed was a waste of Yin Spirit Power.
His timing was good, so he met few people. South Lake Market was remote, with few relatives of cultivators living nearby.
He arrived at the market entrance without incident.
Unlike the bustling commercial hub of West Garden, South Lake Market was quieter, with noticeably fewer storefronts. There were only two grain depots in the entire settlement.
A few pedestrians hurried along the narrow, bluestone-paved streets. Some glanced at Wang Ba, but their gazes slid off him indifferently.
They saw a middle-aged man in an ochre robe carrying a large bamboo basket, quiet as though it contained herbs.
Inside his mind, Wang Ba could feel the droplet in his Yin Spirit Abode shrinking. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
He quickened his pace.
He had scouted the route beforehand. He navigated the winding alleys with familiarity and soon arrived at his destination.
[Burning Blade Grain Shop]
Wang Ba let out a silent breath of relief. Apart from the shopkeeper and a young assistant tidying up the shelves, the shop was empty.
The drain on his Yin Spirit Power immediately slowed to a crawl.
Good. I still have nearly seven-tenths left.
“We’re closing soon. Look quickly if you’re buying,” the shopkeeper called out lazily.
He was a well-fed, middle-aged man with a small, neatly trimmed mustache. He glanced at Wang Ba, categorized him as a poor laborer, and immediately turned back to directing his assistant.
In his eyes, the customer was a nobody. A mud-legged peasant with a worn-out basket.
Wang Ba read the dismissal in the man’s eyes instantly. He didn’t have time for games.
“Shopkeeper,” Wang Ba said, cutting straight to the point. “Do you buy Spirit Poultry here?”
“Sorry, we don’t buy Rare Fowl… wait. Spirit Poultry?”
The shopkeeper whipped his head around, his eyes widening in surprise. He reassessed the peasant standing before him.
His eyes shifted, and he coughed.
“You’re selling Spirit Poultry?”
“Exactly,” Wang Ba said, offering a polite, cupped-fist salute. “Dare I ask if your esteemed shop accepts them? And at what price?”
The shopkeeper’s demeanor shifted instantly. He flashed a warm, professional smile and raised his hand in a welcoming gesture.
“Erhu, serve tea! Come, come, honored guest, please take a seat.”
Wang Ba was anxious to finish the transaction, but he forced himself to sit calmly.
The shopkeeper scanned him again, his gaze lingering on the tattered bamboo basket. His smile widened, but his tone became slow and deliberate.
“Of course we buy Spirit Poultry. I thought you meant Rare Fowl. You may not know this, but Rare Fowl aren’t worth much these days, and even Spirit Poultry are only worth a little. How many do you have?”
Wang Ba blinked, confused.
Spirit Poultry were only worth a little?
Since when had Spirit Poultry become so cheap? Or was his own perspective too limited? Was something he thought valuable worth little to others?
After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “One. A male Spirit Poultry, First Rank, Low-Grade.”
“Oh… First Rank, Low-Grade. And a rooster…”
The shopkeeper stroked his mustache, drawing out his words with a pained expression. He chuckled softly.
“Guest, you might not be aware, but male Spirit Poultry aren’t worth much. The price is, at most, half that of a hen.”
“Plus, with the recent dip in market value…” The shopkeeper sighed, shaking his head.
Wang Ba nodded; he knew that. His business cost him virtually nothing, so he was willing to sell for a little less.
“Shopkeeper, just give me a price,” Wang Ba urged.
“Good! I like a straightforward man. For this Spirit Poultry, I’ll give you this number…”
The shopkeeper held up five fingers. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“Five Spirit Stones?!”
Wang Ba was stunned.
Had the shopkeepers at West Garden Market been price-fixing? Was this the true value?
What unscrupulous merchants!
“What Spirit Stones?” the shopkeeper scoffed, looking offended. “Five thousand taels of silver!”
Wang Ba froze. He couldn’t believe his ears.
“How much? Five thousand… silver?”
“That’s right. Back in the day, they went for seven or eight thousand. But recently, a large batch of Spirit Poultry leaked out from the Ding Section. The market is flooded. They aren’t worth what they used to be…”
The shopkeeper kept rambling on.
Wang Ba stopped listening.
“If you don’t mean to make a serious offer, Shopkeeper, let’s forget it.”
He knew the market rate: ten thousand taels of silver could barely buy one low-grade Spirit Stone.
He was being fleeced. Treated like a fat sheep ready for slaughter.
Wang Ba didn’t waste another second. He grabbed his basket and stood up to leave.
“Hey! Guest, don’t go! If you don’t like the price, counter-offer!” the shopkeeper called out, surprised by the abrupt departure.
“Three Spirit Stones!” Wang Ba threw the number over his shoulder.
That was the price he had in mind. Lu’s Grain Depot had offered 3.4 Spirit Stones, but he was in a hurry and willing to accept less.
The shopkeeper laughed, shaking his head vigorously. “Three? Impossible! Far too much! At most, eight-tenths of a Spirit Stone!”
0.8 Stones.
It was an insult.
Though reluctant to waste Yin Spirit Power, Wang Ba would argue no further. He picked up the basket and left.
“Eh? Guest! Don’t walk away! If you think it’s low, give me another number! Hey! Hey!”
The shopkeeper stood on his tiptoes, shouting after him.
But Wang Ba didn’t stop. He headed straight for the other grain shop down the street.
Watching him leave, the shopkeeper’s anxious expression vanished, replaced by a cold sneer.
“Hah!”
“A mud-legged peasant gets lucky and thinks he can demand Spirit Stones?”
“He’ll be back. Once he walks out of here, does the owner of ‘Liu’s Shop’ dare to touch his goods?”
“Eight-tenths of a stone, heh!”