It was another hour before the first batch of dragon metals came on stage. It came in a large chest, not a normal storage treasure but a structurally reinforced one. It took demigods to carry it and get it settled on the stage.
“They’ve increased the batch size since last time,” Cha Ming said with a frown. Serrendil also looked concerned.
It was Wei Longshen who cleared up the situation. “Now that the bulk of the Li Clan’s debts have been paid off, the current owners of the debt have decided to cut expenses in the liquidation. The price differential between smaller quantities and bulk quantities of the metal is nonexistent. A thousand wanjin is now the standard trading weight.”
Cha Ming’s expression turned solemn. One wanjin was equal to ten thousand jin. His own fist strength was only equal to two hundred wanjin. Normally, when he wielded the Clear Sky Staff, he kept the weight below twenty wanjin.
Ten fist-sized orbs of golden metal lay inside the chest. The bidding began, and in an instant, the prices shot up. Cha Ming placed what he considered a moderately high bid of forty mid-grade inkwell jades but was instantly outbid. The bundle’s price quickly rose to sixty mid-grade inkwell jades.
“This is unreasonable,” Shneraz said. “How could the prices have increased so much?” Indeed, even a peak-rune-carving weapon rarely exceeded fifteen mid-grade spirit stones. In the past, a hundred wanjin had cost Cha Ming four mid-grade spirit stones.
“Yet another reason they decreased the lot size,” Wei Longshen said. “Before, there was a mad scramble to obtain batches for crafting research. When the results bore fruit, demand rose once again. Consolidating batches artificially raises demand and will allow them to fetch a higher price for their goods. A good move on the Xia Clan’s part.”
Cha Ming looked at his available funds and noted that he only had ninety or so mid-grade inkwell jades. That was all he had left after his excessive experimentation with talisman crafting. And while the experiments had been productive, and much of his goods had been saleable, profit margins simply weren’t what they could be for rune-carving treasures. There were too many transcendents on this plane, with hundreds more years to live. And while he could increase his profit margins using Words of Creation, he’d been holding back from using the skill to better learn his craft. He had only so much time to waste making money.
Another lot went up for auction, this one for sixty-two middlings, and then next for sixty-three. It was clear that things weren’t going to get any cheaper.
“Sixty-five,” Cha Ming said into the bidding console. He waited, but he was soon outbid by a single jade. “Seventy,” he called again, and things continued this way until he found himself outside his price range. “This is ludicrous,” he said, giving up.
“There are alchemists who discovered that dragon metals could be used to craft medicinal pills for metal-based demigods,” Wei Longshen said. “Some blacksmiths also discovered some uses in modular weight weapons and in crafting flexible swords. There is an entire prefecture’s worth of demand to meet. Such weapons will be available at a premium. Much like your own dragon-forged weapons.”
Serrendil grunted. “We came unprepared. We will need to come again later.” She stood up to leave.
“Perhaps we could consolidate our bid?” Cha Ming suggested.
Serrendil paused, then sat back down again. “We came to buy thirty middlings worth,” Serrendil said. “Though it appears there are some misunderstandings for why we require them. We do not incorporate dragon metals into dragon-wrought blades.”
“Then I find it interesting that research into the metals has yielded such promising results,” Wei Longshen said.
“A coincidence,” Serrendil said. “But I digress. Why don’t we combine our funds with yours and split the metals proportionately? We’ll worry about how to divide larger orbs. Our clan has ways of doing this.”
Cha Ming nodded. Not only were dragon metals extremely heavy, but they were also exceedingly difficult to work with. They began to place higher bids, but by now, the auction had heated up. The seventy middlings Cha Ming had put up and the thirty from the dragons weren’t enough to secure a single batch. They’d hoped that the demand would lower, but the opposite was true. One by one, the bundles were auctioned.
“You seem to be having difficulties,” Wei Longshen said. “I suggest you cease bidding for now. You will not win this auction no matter how high you bid.”
“Oh?” Cha Ming said. “Is there something we should know about?”
“Notice the flashing lights indicating bids,” Wei Longshen said. He pointed them out, and after a while, they noticed a pattern. A few of the rooms on the thirty-first floor were active.
“The great clans and sects?” Cha Ming asked. Then realization dawned on him. “Oh.”
“They probably noticed your acquaintances coming,” Wei Longshen said. “You may not know this, but a few powerful clans are nervous about the resurgence of the ancient Clockwork Clan. They are concerned with the amount of dragon metals they have been accumulating.”
Shneraz frowned. “We have been neutral in this conflict.”
“But people are worried,” Wei Longshen said.
“Figures,” Serrendil said with a sigh. “We’ll find a workaround. We always do.” It was evidently not the first time they’d encountered such difficulties.
Wei Longshen cleared his throat. “Forgive my rudeness. I know you’ve said you don’t incorporate dragon metals into dragon-wrought blades, but might I ask—when do dragon metals cease to be profitable to your people?”
“That’s a pretty sensitive question for a human to be asking,” Serrendil said, her eyes narrowing. “But I can say that these prices are still within reason. It’s just unfortunate that the lot size is so large.”
“There are only a few lots remaining, so let’s make this quick,” Wei Longshen said. “I happen to be a procurer of talents. I’m intrigued by your clan’s artisans and the products they make. I’ve noticed that the goods have been increasing in quality. They often fetch a much higher price than standard weapons.”
“Your point?” Serrendil asked.
“I have a proposal,” Wei Longshen said. “I can procure what you need today in secret. No one need know your involvement. I will require ten peak-rune-carving weapons at cost. Dragon-made, of course. I would also like to employ five of your clansmen.”
Serrendil chuckled. “Awfully expensive for what you’re offering.”
“I’ll continue procuring metals for you,” Wei Longshen continued. “You need not attend these auctions. I can’t promise the best price, but I can promise results. At cost, my oath on it, and no one need know it happened. And the employment would not be direct. Let’s call it a… purchase agreement at a reasonable price for the output of these five mid-grade craftsmen. And whatever you owe me in balance, your clan can pay off using dragon-forged weapons at… say… seventy percent of their market price.”
Serrendil frowned. “What’s your angle?”
“Like I said, I’m a procurer of talents,” Wei Longshen said. “I would actually prefer to employ you all directly, but I doubt that would be acceptable in your eyes.”
“Not to mention the heat you’d get from the other clans,” Cha Ming chimed in.
Wei Longshen gave him a peeved look. “There is that,” Wei Longshen admitted. “Nevertheless, I know the worth of your wares, and I am confident that no matter the research that surfaces, the demand for your products will linger. In fact, I have a feeling it’s impossible for the clans and sects to imitate them. This metalworking ability—it is tied to your blood, is it not?”
Serrendil nodded slowly. “If we stopped purchasing the metals directly, the powers in the city might assume we’ve have stockpiled enough. The price may go down. Also…” She thought for a moment and grinned. “I have an additional condition.”
“Oh?” Wei Longshen asked. “And what might that be?”
“From what I understand, your clan often hosts trade
exhibitions for recruiting purposes,” Serrendil said. “I want you to arrange a demonstration. We’ll make a legitimate dragon-wrought weapon in front of a large audience.”
“Intriguing,” Wei Longshen said.
“If we’re going pull down the price of dragon metals, why not show them exactly how we make our weapons?” Serrendil continued. “Seeing is believing. When they see we don’t work them into our weapons, and they know how difficult it is to copy our craft, they’ll be forced to give up.”
“That seems risky,” Cha Ming said. “Won’t they try to abduct or recruit your people if that’s the case?”
“Like they’re already doing?” Shneraz asked. “Like they’ve always done? Before, it was the Guard, the Iridescent Clan, and the mercenaries that tried collaring us. Now it will be merchants.”
“I don’t see any reason to refuse,” Wei Longshen said.
“Then it’s agreed,” Serrendil said. “Please do what you can.”
“Please do me this small favor, Brother Longshen,” Cha Ming said.
Wei Longshen placed a few calls, and soon enough, one of the higher-tier bidding rooms placed a bit. It was several hours later, when premium properties were being bid on, that a man entered the room and dropped off a small bag. It was a high-quality storage bag rated for the great weight. Cha Ming and the dragons split the dragon metals right away, with Cha Ming storing his portion in the Clear Sky World. Through his connection to the Clear Sky Brush, he immediately started the lengthy process of replenishing the dragon metals in his bones.
“Well, I don’t see myself benefitting much from the rest of this auction,” Wei Longshen said. The latest item was a mining facility in the Gold Spine Mountain Range. A piece of land that had historically belonged to the Clockwork Clan. Shneraz stiffened when he saw the entry but flinched when he saw the price.
“It’s too late to get back our lands, Shneraz,” Serrendil said softly.
“We only need time,” Shneraz said. “If we save enough—”
“We’ll never save enough,” Serrendil said. “The past is long gone. Forget about it.”
“But our ancestral halls—”
“Are lost to us,” Serrendil said. “We need to break free of our past and create our own future.” She sighed, and they rose. “Young Master Wei, why don’t we discuss and negotiate further details on our agreement at a later date? The favor you did us today was substantial, but it would still be best to get everything in writing.” They’d lost their lands to a bad contract. To them, all agreements were suspect.
“I completely understand,” Wei Longshen said.
“Then if that’s all, we’ll be leaving,” Serrendil said with a short bow. The two dragons left, leaving Wei Longshen and Cha Ming alone in the room.
The two men watched lots change hands one after another. Cha Ming had neither the interest nor the wealth to acquire them, and he knew that Wei Longshen was busy consolidating his clan’s recent acquisitions. They wouldn’t be buying anything so extravagant in the meantime.
“I was speaking to Mi Fei the other day,” Wei Longshen said. “She said she hadn’t seen you in ages, and you never answer her communications.”
Cha Ming pressed his lips into a line and nodded. “I told you, it’s just too painful. I’d rather not see her.”
Wei Longshen nodded slowly. Weeks ago, and after much prodding and pleading, he’d told his friend about Mi Fei. Not the details, but that she reminded him of a love long dead.
“She still considers you a friend,” Wei Longshen said. “I’m sure she’d appreciate a bit of back and forth.”
“You’re a strange man,” Cha Ming said. “Most men would rather I not speak to their significant other, especially when such emotional baggage is involved.”
“Well, I’m not most men, and you aren’t either,” Wei Longshen said. “At least talk to her once before you leave?”
Cha Ming shook his head. “I’d rather not. Though…” He hesitated. Slowly, painfully, he withdrew something from the Clear Sky World and presented it to Wei Longshen. “Here. A congratulatory gift.”
Wei Longshen frowned and accepted the item. “A talisman?” he asked. It was red and covered in intricate runic patterns, though at its center was a simple runic script. Every single word contained a lifetime of meaning. “Disappointment douses the hearts of the needy; Man is left wanting and ever-yearning. Kindling the flames of love and caring; Never questioning his devotion,” Wei Longshen read the words out loud. “Is this poetry?”
“It’s a poetic talisman,” Cha Ming said. “I call it an Energy Talisman, due to my lack of imagination. This talisman, like its four elemental counterparts, is an integral part of my cultivation. It is the product of true love and heartbreak, Longshen. Only I can make this talisman, and even then, very seldomly, and at great expense.”
“This is an early-rune-gathering treasure,” Wei Longshen said solemnly. “This alone is worth several hundred mid-grade inkwell jades. Why didn’t you just sell it to the auction house to procure dragon metals?”
Cha Ming chuckled. “I can’t sell such a talisman, Longshen. If I did, it would be like selling my heart and soul. It would devalue the very core of my Dao.” He shook his head. “I can call these into battle anytime I like, but I can only make physical copies once per month or less, depending on my mood. It takes a piece of me each time I make them, and they bring old wounds back to the surface.”
“Then I’m honored to accept it,” Wei Longshen said. “Though we aren’t engaged. Not yet.”
“You will be, in time,” Cha Ming said. “I can tell that you love her, Longshen, and she loves you. But this gift comes with conditions.”
“Conditions?” Wei Longshen asked.
“Yes, conditions,” Cha Ming said. “I want you to keep the talisman. I don’t want you to tell her about it. It can be used to increase one’s power in battle, yes, but that would be a waste. The real value of this talisman lies in its power to affect emotions. It gives hope and joy to anyone who needs it.
“I want you to keep this with you. And one day, if things aren’t going well between the two of you, I want you to use this talisman. Either on yourself or on Mi Fei. The essence behind this talisman is love found, lost, and found again. I cannot do much for the both of you, but I can give you this opportunity, if you will accept it.”
Wei Longshen frowned. “That sounds an awful lot like trickery.”
“Yes, it is,” Cha Ming said. “Of the highest degree. But know that it can never convince anyone of anything they don’t truly want to know or feel. Rather, it unburies feelings hidden deep within hearts that have long since grown cold. It can fan the smallest spark into the greatest fire.”
“I don’t think I could use this talisman in such a fashion,” Wei Longshen said. He pushed it back toward Cha Ming. “We don’t need it.”
“Then use it however you wish,” Cha Ming said, pulling back his hands. “Perhaps you could use it when she’s having a bad day, and you think it would help if she smiled again. I don’t mean this to wish you ill luck, but cultivators live long lives. We are no strangers to suffering.”
Wei Longshen nodded slowly, then pulled back the talisman. “It’s not the cheapest solution, but I fully understand how difficult it is to earn that smile sometimes.” He put away the talisman in his storage ring. “When will you be leaving?”
“Immediately,” Cha Ming said. “There’s not much left for me to do here. I’m a wanderer, Longshen. I never stay long in one place. But I’ll be back in four months’ time. For how long, I don’t know. And then I’ll likely move on.”
“Take care, then, Cha Ming” Wei Longshen said. “And don’t let yourself get sucked too deep into this war. I don’t know if the demons have anything up their sleeves, but I’m ninety percent certain they’re going to lose.”
“We’ll see,” Cha Ming said. They stood up and exchanged an awkward hug before heading out of the room.
“Do you want to say hello?” We
i Longshen said, his eyes flickering through the window to the topmost floor. Through the windows, they could see the prefecture lords drinking and feasting as they watched the squabbling bidders. “Maybe try throwing them off their game?”
“They aren’t worth my time,” Cha Ming said. “And besides, I’d rather keep them guessing. Fear is an edge I could use, and as I am now, I don’t exactly inspire it. I can only settle for fear of the unknown.”
“All the best to you,” Wei Longshen said. “I’ll be going back to my clan’s booth to exchange a few words. If you’re ever back in town, come find me.”
“I will,” Cha Ming said. Then he left the building, hopped onto his personal ship, then headed out of the city.
Chapter 3: Zheng
Cha Ming’s journey to the demon lands was quiet and without company. Two weeks of heavy rain had flooded fields and roads. The many towns he passed were silent despite being more packed than usual, mostly with demon refugees staying in mismatched tents that did little to protect them from mudslides and flash floods. The tension between them and the villagers was palpable, and the guardsmen who kept order were wary.
Despite the rains and the empty fields that accompanied it, there were many travelers on the road. Due to the war, trade was booming. While the fields could be damaged by careless feet, there were still stored crops that needed to be taken to market.
They trudged along slick stone roads using little more than carts driven by bestial demons, urging them forward with more carrot than stick. A wise farmer knew that even beasts had standards, and too much whipping led to cracked skulls and broken ribs.
It was only when he reached the tree line that things changed. What used to be a natural barrier of demonic trees had been replaced by military outposts built of wood stripped from the much thinner forests they guarded. These enchanted structures were supplemented with deep ditches and walls of earth. They were filled to the brim with soldiers, every one of whom was a cultivator.
Cha Ming chose to avoid these forts. There was no point in using the main roads, as every mile would be covered by patrols that might cause him problems. He used his Seventy-Two Earthly Transformations to turn into a swallow and enter the woods covertly before reverting to his human form once again. He then used the Clear Sky Staff to slowly fly through the trees instead of hoofing it over soggy leaves and wet twigs. The ample trees slowed his progress, but it was better than making a ruckus.
Claddings of Light : Book 12 of Painting the Mists Page 5
