11. Tricked by the Old Man

After leaving the pawnshop through the back door, Xie An feigned leisure as he strolled down the street, though his eyes scanned every direction and his ears caught every sound. He remained ever vigilant for anyone tailing him.

Upon reaching the town’s outskirts, Xie An glanced around and, seeing no one, pulled out a piece of black hemp cloth to cover the lower half of his face. Without hesitation, he dashed out of town and disappeared into the boundless twilight.

“Going to the black market is risky; it easily attracts unwanted attention. I must be careful.”

The black market lay twenty li beyond Wuqiao Town, in the Black Blood Ridge, neighboring the vast Dayin Mountain that stretched eight hundred li. The Dayin Mountain was infamous for its ferocious beasts, with occasional rumors of herb gatherers and hunters being devoured.

Having lived in Wuqiao Town for thirty years, Xie An also knew that aside from wild beasts, bandits dwelled in the Dayin Mountain.

The black market, a refuge from taxes and official scrutiny, was naturally despised by the authorities. Being set up in a place like Black Blood Ridge made it comparatively safe, as the government was too lazy to expend effort managing it.

The market opened at night and closed at dawn, covering five or six towns including Wuqiao, Bailu, and Shuideng. It was vast, yet chaotic, with frequent incidents where foolhardy buyers were targeted or caught off guard.

Xie An had visited the market a few times before with Chen Yuan. Since they hadn’t bought anything valuable, their wealth remained discreet, leaving them unmarked by thieves.

This time, however, was different; Xie An intended to purchase quite a few items and had to be on guard.

Yet fear was unnecessary...

Xie An’s Five Animals Qigong practice had now advanced to the third stage: the unity of spirit and form, though only at two points of progress. Still, it had significantly increased his strength and physical resilience.

He could lift over 450 jin with one hand, and a single punch was powerful enough to kill an adult man outright. Few could challenge him below the warrior class.

After all, Wuqiao was just a town, and only a handful of martial artists lived there, most of whom taught at the Chen Martial Arts School. Xie An was hardly worried.

Strength breeds courage—this saying was absolutely true.

Walking twenty li on mountain paths was effortless for Xie An.

At the third quarter of the eleventh hour, he arrived at Black Blood Ridge.

The entrance was a narrow gorge, blocked by two men clad in black wielding broad swords. They looked formidable and showed no hesitation upon seeing Xie An’s masked face.

“Entry fee is one qian of silver. If you want a stall, it’s an additional three qian,” one said bluntly.

Xie An put on the air of an old customer and produced a small silver coin, handing it over. “No stall.”

The man weighed the coin, found it to be the right weight, and nodded with satisfaction. “No fighting or brawling once inside.”

“Understood.”

The two men stepped aside, and Xie An entered the gorge with practiced ease.

Inside, the darkness outside was replaced by bright lights. Rows of stalls were neatly arranged, orderly and well-maintained. Sword-bearing men patrolled, maintaining order.

Those intent on causing trouble quickly silenced themselves and returned to friendly negotiation whenever a patrol approached.

Most vendors and buyers, like Xie An, covered their faces. Clearly, those brave enough to trade here were experienced and cautious. While safe inside the gorge, once outside, one was vulnerable to being targeted.

As for who controlled the black market behind the scenes, Xie An had no idea—but it must be someone powerful.

After wandering about, Xie An found two stalls selling martial arts manuals.

One belonged to a large, stout man, whose business was booming.

“The Tiger Valor Saber Technique, fifteen taels,” a customer announced.

“The Lower Three Sword Technique, twelve taels,” another said.

Prices of over ten taels were enough to scare Xie An off.

It was clear the stout man had a good reputation; despite the steep prices, customers trusted him and were willing to pay more.

But Xie An only had twenty taels in total...

He simply couldn’t afford it.

Resigned, Xie An approached the other stall, run by a man in his forties sitting on a stone, puffing on a pipe. The stall was deserted, and worry crept over the man’s face.

Xie An cautiously asked, “Do you have the Five Animals Qigong?”

The pipe-smoking man lit up at the prospect of business. “Yes. It’s normally eight taels; today I’ll give it to you for seven.”

Xie An knew this was already the going rate but feigned displeasure. “Who practices health cultivation these days? No one wants it. You still ask eight taels? Even at four taels, others can’t sell theirs. Look at the fat man next door—martial arts manuals flying off the shelves.”

The pipe smoker’s sore spot was struck. He hadn’t sold a copy of the Five Animals Qigong in two months. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to feed his family.

Yet he wasn’t without pride and shot Xie An a sharp look. “There are still people who like health cultivation. How much are you willing to pay?”

Xie An’s sharp eyes caught the desperation and calmly replied, “I won’t hide it—I’ve practiced Five Animals Qigong for over ten years, but lost my handwritten copy and forgot some of the later parts. That’s why I want to buy a copy to refresh my memory. If it’s too expensive, I’ll pass.”

Then, right before the man, Xie An demonstrated two sets of Five Animals Qigong moves, as if to say, “See? I’m not lying.”

The pipe smoker, also versed in health cultivation, was convinced by Xie An’s confident display and grew even more nervous. “Alright, four taels.”

Xie An frowned, silent.

Too easy?

Maybe he could push for a better deal...

Silence often weighs heavily.

When the pipe smoker clearly struggled to maintain composure, Xie An finally spoke, “Actually, I only forgot the last few moves. Buying the whole manual for four taels isn’t worth it. How about this: let me look through the back part of your copy without affecting your ability to sell it, and I’ll buy some other manuals from you instead. How’s that?”

The pipe smoker looked disappointed but not defeated. “Depends on how much you buy.”

Seeing a chance, Xie An stifled his excitement and nonchalantly inquired about other manuals.

After some discussion, Xie An understood why the pipe smoker’s business was poor.

All the manuals were common, poorly copied, and incomplete.

Incomplete manuals were the bane of martial arts practice—practitioners risked going astray or harming themselves.

Who would buy them?

However, one manual on fetal breathing caught Xie An’s attention. Tang Qingfeng had once introduced him to this health cultivation method, a form of breathing technique.

After some haggling, the pipe smoker insisted on eight taels, while Xie An offered four, constantly emphasizing how few people were willing to pay for health cultivation manuals nowadays.

Eventually, the pipe smoker agreed to sell for six taels and allowed Xie An to peruse the Five Animals Qigong manual.

“Deal.”

Xie An made a face as if in pain but reluctantly agreed.

Money exchanged hands and goods were delivered.

Xie An examined the Five Animals Qigong manual.

Previously, Chen Yuan had given him the first half; Xie An had already mastered that part, reaching the unity of spirit and form stage. Now, he had come to the black market to buy the second half.

But meeting the pipe smoker meant he had to buy the whole manual for nothing.

The second half was no more than a thousand words, and with his foundation, Xie An quickly memorized its contents.

The latter part covered two realms: strengthening the five internal organs and guiding qi with intent. Tang Qingfeng’s mention of “qi sensation” likely referred to this guiding of qi with the mind. Once he completed this, he should be able to cultivate qi sensation, then perhaps seek a chance encounter at the Tang family fortress in the county.

“There’s potential for longevity. With years of dedication, qi sensation will surely develop.”

“Old brother, you’ve been looking over it for half an hour…” The pipe smoker muttered, clearly displeased, feeling cheated.

Xie An returned to reality and handed back the manual. “Old age has dulled my memory. Please forgive me.”

The pipe smoker snatched the manual, sat down, and smoked his pipe, the feeling of being swindled growing stronger.

Xie An saw the man’s sulking and knew what he was thinking but said nothing, turning to leave.

Business was always a game of mutual deception.

Who could blame anyone?

Xie An then opened the prescription Tang Qingfeng had given him and headed to the medicinal herb stalls to hunt for ingredients, bargaining vigorously.

He gathered most of the herbs except one crucial ingredient: bear heart.

Though available at the black market, it was exorbitantly priced.

Despite proximity to Dayin Mountain where hunters killed black bears, a single bear heart cost tens of taels.

Xie An looked at the five taels left in his pouch and sighed at his poverty.

Though Tang Qingfeng’s secret prescription promised great effects, he simply couldn’t afford all the ingredients now.

Cultivating health techniques was already costly—how much more for martial arts?

He vowed to earn money aggressively in the future.

“Not a bad haul today. Time to head back.”

As the hour passed midnight, Xie An prepared to return home. The bear heart would have to wait.

Passing a miscellaneous goods stall, something caught his eye.

The vendor was a young man, face covered, with shifty eyes constantly scanning around—guilty as if he were a thief.

On display were a chamber pot, a quiver holding five arrows, and a heavy bow.

The bow looked old, likely a “one-shi bow.”

In the Great Qian Dynasty, a one-shi bow’s draw force equaled about 200 jin, classifying it as a heavy bow with armor-piercing ability and an impressive effective range of 200 meters. Mainly military-use and privately prohibited from sale—but this was the black market, so it was normal.

Ordinary people couldn’t draw such a heavy bow, but Xie An could easily manage.

Though stronger now, Xie An lacked skill with weapons and felt the need for arms for self-defense. The best weapons were swords, spears... and heavy bows.

What intrigued him most wasn’t the bow but the seemingly worthless chamber pot, emitting a faint stench of urine.

A treasure!

It must be a century old. Though the carvings were simple, the craftsmanship was exquisite—most likely an artifact from a royal family of the previous dynasty. Selling it could fetch around two hundred taels.

Seeing Xie An pause, the young man brightened. “Sir, interested in antiques?”

Xie An ignored the chamber pot and pretended to toy with the bow. “This old chamber pot’s a filthy piece of junk; I wouldn’t take it as a gift. This bow’s decent, but secondhand and worthless. How much?”

The nervous young man, already uneasy, grew more so after Xie An’s criticism. “Five taels.”

A regular bow cost about five or six qian of silver. Heavy bows were pricier, and five taels for a secondhand one was reasonable.

Xie An frowned with disdain. “Who can even draw such a heavy bow? I’d buy it just to collect. At most, two taels.”

The young man’s weak spot was hit—few could draw a one-shi bow.

Only martial artists could.

But martial artists nearby were esteemed and looked down on secondhand bows.

He gritted his teeth. “Three taels. No less.”

Feigning pain, Xie An glanced casually at the chamber pot. “Three taels and you throw in this chamber pot? Consider it for the old man to relieve myself.”

To Xie An, the bow was secondary—the chamber pot was the real prize.

He just hoped it would intimidate the young man enough.