Then, with a sly gleam in her eyes, she shoved her broom into Wang Teng’s hands and said, “Xiao Tengzi, from now on, this area is yours to clean!”
“Consider it…
well, consider it your protection fee!”
“Hey?
Where are you going?”
Wang Teng caught the broom and watched as Xiao Wu bounced away like a rabbit, calling out after her.
“To go find that Xiao-what’s-his-name and fight him!”
Xiao Wu didn’t look back, her crisp voice floating behind her as she disappeared into the grove.
“…She really does whatever comes to mind.”
Wang Teng shook his head helplessly and resignedly began sweeping, clearing the entire garden by himself.
After finishing, he returned the cleaning tools.
Then, he headed back to the dormitory.
As he approached, he immediately caught a familiar, slightly bitter herbal scent wafting through the air.
“Big Brother must be brewing the medicine,” he thought, his spirits lifting as he followed the smell.
Sure enough, in a secluded corner behind the dormitory building, Wang Teng found Wang Sheng.
Wang Sheng was crouched before a small stove, holding a worn-out palm-leaf fan, carefully tending to the fire.
On the stove, a ceramic pot bubbled and gurgled.
White steam carrying a rich herbal aroma rose continuously.
“Big Brother, how’s it going?”
Wang Teng crouched beside him, peering at the dark brown liquid roiling in the pot.
“Still needs a bit more time—the heat’s not quite there yet.”
Wang Sheng didn’t look up, his attention fixed on the flames.
Wang Teng sat down beside him.
There were no classes in the afternoon, so time was plentiful.
The two brothers sat quietly, watching the stove, listening to the faint crackle of firewood and the soft bubbling of the medicinal brew.
After about half an hour, Wang Sheng used a cloth to protect his hands, lifted the pot off the stove, and carefully strained the liquid into two coarse porcelain bowls.
The dark medicinal soup steamed with rising heat.
“Here, drink it while it’s hot.”
Wang Sheng picked up one bowl and handed it to Wang Teng.
Wang Teng took it, blew on it, and, not minding the heat, tipped it back and gulped it down in a few mouthfuls.
A bowl of hot medicinal soup settled in his stomach, spreading a wave of warmth from his core outward to his limbs.
A thin sheen of sweat immediately broke out on Wang Teng’s forehead.
The heavy soreness in his body lightened considerably, and his fatigue receded by a noticeable margin.
“Whew…
I feel much better.”
Wang Teng let out a breath and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Good.
Then drink this one too.”
Wang Sheng said, pushing his own untouched bowl over.
“Big Brother, this is…”
Wang Teng stared at the bowl, then looked at his brother.
“You drink it.”
Wang Sheng’s tone was calm but carried an unyielding firmness.
“I cultivate slowly, and I don’t push myself as hard in training as you do.”
“You’re different.
You have innate level-five soul power.
You’re going to go much further than I ever will.”
“This bowl—no, not just this bowl—all the herbs Dad sent with you should be used on you.”
Wang Sheng looked into Wang Teng’s eyes, his gaze carrying both the love of an older brother and a solemn, resolved determination.
Wang Teng held his brother’s gaze for a moment and understood his intent.
He didn’t argue further.
He nodded, picked up the second bowl, and drank it down just as quickly.
The warmth from both bowls merged within him, making him break out in a light sweat and lifting his spirits.
Setting the bowl down, Wang Teng asked, “Big Brother, how many more doses can we get from the herbs we brought?”
Wang Sheng calculated silently and replied, “At today’s rate—two bowls per dose—I’d say about a dozen more times.”
“But…” He paused, looking at Wang Teng, “if you keep training as recklessly as you did yesterday, even if we use it all on you, I doubt these herbs will last a month.”
“A month, huh…”
Wang Teng rubbed his chin, lost in thought.
The rate at which the herbs were being consumed was faster than he had anticipated.
The meager allowance for work-study students barely covered food—it certainly couldn’t support a long-term herbal regimen.
“Looks like it’s time to figure out how to make some money.”
Wang Teng raised his head, his gaze fixed on the high walls of the academy in the distance, and murmured.
“Make money?
Do you have a plan?”
Hearing his brother’s words, Wang Sheng showed neither hesitation nor doubt—he asked directly.
That wasn’t surprising.
Since Wang Teng was born, he had always been different.
He never cried or fussed as a baby, his mind was sharp, and he acted with composure.
“Yeah, I’ve got an idea.”
Wang Teng furrowed his brow slightly, as if working out the details in his mind.
“What’s the plan?”
Wang Sheng leaned in, even more curious.
Wang Teng looked up, his eyes bright as he looked at his brother: “Big Brother, what do you think of ‘spinning tops’ plus ‘betting matches’?”
“Huh?”
Wang Sheng was taken aback, not quite following.
“Come on.”
Without explaining further, Wang Teng grabbed Wang Sheng’s hand and ran toward the dormitory.
“Little brother, what exactly are you planning?”
Wang Sheng asked as he ran alongside.
“You’ll see in a bit.”
Back in Room Seven, they quickly came out again.
This time, Wang Sheng carried a stack of papers covered with drawings, while Wang Teng tucked a small coin pouch into his robes—it held the money their father had given both of them before they left for school.
“Big Brother, let’s go to the best blacksmith shop in Notting City.”
Once they were outside the academy gates, Wang Teng said.
Wang Sheng flipped through the papers as they walked.
Each page depicted an intricately designed metal spinning top, with various component names labeled alongside.
Attack rings, weight rings, tips, launchers…
The designs varied widely: a fierce tiger-headed model, a sleek bird-shaped one, and a sturdy armored version.
These were all meticulously recreated by Wang Teng from memories of his past life.
The “Blast Tiger,” “Blazing Phoenix,” and “Aurora Armor” that had once captivated his childhood now reappeared in blueprint form.
Wang Sheng studied the spinning top designs and quickly grasped his brother’s idea.
He confirmed once more, “Little brother, your plan is to have these spinning tops made, sell them to the students at the academy, and then organize betting matches?”
“Exactly!”
Wang Teng nodded excitedly and explained, “These are basically toys for kids, and the students at the academy are just the right age to enjoy them.”
“With a reasonable price, they’ll catch on quickly at school.”
“Once everyone’s into it, we can organize competitions and set up betting pools…
and then, heh heh…”
Wang Teng was quite pleased with this idea, which combined toys with gambling.
He couldn’t help but mentally pat himself on the back.
“Little brother, I’m not against it,” Wang Sheng raised his hand, interrupting his brother’s vision, “but I have two questions.”
“Go ahead.”
Wang Teng said casually.
“First, how do you make sure it’s ‘us’ organizing the matches, not someone else beating us to it?”
“Second, how do you guarantee that ‘we’ will win?”
Wang Sheng looked at his brother seriously, waiting for an answer.
Wang Teng smiled, as if he’d already thought through these questions: “Big Brother, those two problems aren’t that hard.”
“First, to stir up matches: we can use the existing tensions at the academy.”
“The regular students and work-study students have never gotten along.”
“All we need is a little push—like having you, Big Brother, ‘provoke’ that Xiao Chenyu.
With his arrogant personality and disdain for work-study students, he’ll definitely take the bait.”
“As for why the competition should be spinning tops instead of fighting—well, isn’t Big Sister Xiao Wu around?
Xiao Chenyu just became a soul master and is full of himself, but you know how strong Xiao Wu is.
If it came to a real fight, he wouldn’t stand a chance against her.”
“That’s when we suggest ‘using spinning tops for a fair and fun duel’—he’ll likely go along with it to save face.”
Pausing here, Wang Teng lowered his voice: “Second, about how to win…
Big Brother, I’ll tell you quietly—I have a way to ‘influence’ other people’s spinning tops.”
“What?
You can control other people’s spinning tops?”
Wang Sheng was startled.
“Shh—keep your voice down!”
Wang Teng quickly signaled.
“Saying ‘control’ might not be entirely accurate, but I do feel I can cause some interference with other spinning tops.”
“During matches, if I secretly make a few adjustments, the outcome will naturally be in our control.”
“This…
if we’re caught cheating, we’d be in big trouble.”
Wang Sheng’s face showed concern.
“Big Brother, don’t worry!”
Wang Teng patted his chest reassuringly.
“I know spinning tops inside out.”
“Different weight configurations, attack ring shapes, and tip materials affect spin and balance in completely different ways.”
“Even without cheating, the design advantages alone give us a good chance of winning.”
Wang Teng wasn’t bragging.
In his past life, he had been a spinning top enthusiast.
As a child, he had studied the structures and strategies of various spinning tops.
Now, that knowledge—once considered “useless”—had become the key to making money.
“Alright!
Big Brother trusts you on this!”
The brothers didn’t waste any more time and headed for the best blacksmith shop in Notting City.
They reached the shop quickly.
Pushing aside the heavy windbreak curtain, they walked in.
The blacksmith shop was hot and stuffy.
The clanging of hammer on metal echoed continuously.
The shop was divided into two halves.
On the left was the display area: finished swords and knives hung on the walls, gleaming coldly; in the corner were hoes, plowshares, and other farm tools—sturdy and durable-looking.
On the right was the work area: a massive furnace blazed with red flames, casting flickering shadows across the room.
At this moment, a bare-chested blacksmith was using tongs to pull a glowing red iron billet from the forge, placing it on an anvil and swinging his hammer in a rhythmic beat, sending sparks flying.
“Little customers, what brings you to the blacksmith shop?”
Seeing someone enter, a tall, white-haired old man immediately approached, his tone warm.
He wore a leather apron, had coal dust on his hands, and deep laugh lines around his eyes.
“I’m the owner here.
Whatever you need, just tell me.”
“Uncle, we’d like to have something custom-made.”
Wang Sheng stepped forward and handed over the drawings.
“Custom-made?
Let me take a look.”
The old man pulled out a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, put them on, took the drawings, and studied them sheet by sheet.
“Oh?
A children’s toy…
but not wooden—you want it forged in metal?
Huh, this design…
pretty intricate, isn’t it?”
The old man flipped through the exploded views of different spinning tops, a look of interest appearing on his face.
“Attack rings, weight rings, bearings…
very thorough consideration.
Interesting.”
“Boss, can you make them?
How much would it cost?
If we order in bulk, can you give us a discount?”
Wang Sheng fired off his questions.
The old man put down the drawings, thought for a moment, and said, “These might look simple, but there are quite a few small parts, and the workmanship requirements are fairly high.”
“If you only want one of each, I’d have to charge thirty copper soul coins per top.”
“But if you order in larger quantities, we can talk about the price.”
Wang Teng spoke up at this point: “Boss, we’re planning to divide each type into three tiers: Basic, Battle, and Premium.”
“The higher the tier, the better the materials and craftsmanship.”
“Battle should be sturdier and more user-friendly than Basic, while Premium should use the best materials and preferably have some decorative engraving.”
“Can you do that?”
“That’s easy enough!”
The owner nodded.
“Different materials, different levels of polishing, and some decorative patterns to distinguish the tiers—very simple.”
“But that means the prices will vary.”
“Name your price.”
“Thirty copper soul coins for Basic, forty for Battle, and fifty for Premium.”
“How’s that?”
“Deal.”
Wang Teng agreed readily.
“So how many do you want?
If it’s a large order, I can still lower the total.”
The owner asked further.
By now, Wang Teng had already done the math in his head: “For each of the three types, we want fifty of the Basic, thirty of the Battle, and…
ten of the Premium for now.”
“How much can you knock off the total?”
The owner walked to the counter, picked up a dark abacus, and clicked the beads with a rapid clatter.
Looking up, he said, “The original price comes to 9,200 copper soul coins.”
“Tell you what—I’ll give you a good deal: I’ll calculate all spinning tops at a cost of thirty copper coins each, which comes to 8,100 copper coins—that’s 81 silver soul coins, just under one gold soul coin.”
“What do you say?
Still want it?”
The owner finished and studied the brothers’ clothing.
Though Wang Teng and Wang Sheng’s clothes were clean and neat, the fabric was ordinary—clearly not from a wealthy family.
The owner was a bit worried the price might scare them away.
“We’ll take it.”
Wang Teng’s answer surprised him.
The shorter boy pulled a small coin pouch from his robes and took out a gleaming gold coin.
This gold soul coin was all they had—their one and only.
“Boss, here’s one gold soul coin for you.”