Chapter 42: The Four Seas Trading Guild

Ling Chi looked at Wu Wei and smiled coolly.
“Manager Wu, show some sincerity. I’m not the kind who enjoys wasting time, and you’d better not treat me as some inexperienced fool. This piece of black copper isn’t as precious as you think.”
Wu Wei’s expression remained unchanged, though he feigned a helpless look. It was nearly impossible to make such a shrewd man feel embarrassed.
“Master Ling, the value of this ancient thunder-black copper isn’t about how much I sell it for, but what it’s worth in your heart.”
What an impressive sales philosophy—even in my previous life, this would have been the mark of a remarkable figure.
“Both items together for fifty thousand gold coins. If you agree, I’ll count the bills.”
Ling Chi set down his teacup, his tone resolute.
No sooner had Ling Chi spoken than he caught the subtle twitch at the corner of Wu Wei’s eye. His confidence soared; this offer had struck right at Wu Wei’s weak spot.
This price must be close to Wu Wei’s bottom line—perhaps even more generous than necessary.
“Master Ling, you’re quite the character. No one bargains as fiercely as you do. If you insist on this price, perhaps you’d better look elsewhere.” Wu Wei continued his psychological game.
Cao Bianjiao thought Ling Chi was short on funds; he discreetly tugged at Ling Chi’s sleeve, hinting that he could cover any shortage, eager to repay the favor.
Ling Chi pretended not to notice, rising leisurely. “Since Manager Wu truly doesn’t want to sell, let’s leave business aside and part as friends. Until next time!”
Ling Chi pulled Cao Bianjiao toward the door. Seeing Ling Chi’s decisiveness, Cao Bianjiao thought it best not to protest.
Qingqing grew anxious—a two-year task was about to slip away, and she was unwilling to let it go. But as a mere maid, she could do nothing.
“Master Ling, wait—come back and sit!” Wu Wei sighed inwardly. This youth possessed a formidable psychological resilience; with a calm face, he had shaved off twenty thousand gold coins.
Ling Chi surreptitiously raised an eyebrow at Cao Bianjiao, as if to ask, “Did you learn something?”
Cao Bianjiao’s face ran through four expressions in a flash: surprise that Ling Chi had actually slashed the price, puzzlement at the easy concession of twenty thousand gold coins, sudden realization that Wu Wei’s psychological price was around fifty thousand, and anger that he had been a fool for so long—always showing off in front of women, never bargaining, just paying the bill.
Ling Chi and Wu Wei conducted business as if nothing had happened, paying thirty thousand gold coins, with the remainder due when the thunder-black copper was delivered the next day.

“Manager Wu, does your merchant association have any books like Chronicles of Mountains and Rivers or Compendium of Treasures? Please send me one, so I don’t miss a gem next time for lack of knowledge.”
Ling Chi suddenly recalled that such associations often have comprehensive catalogues. Comparing them with the materials from the Security Bureau might help broaden his understanding.
“No problem at all. I’ll have one delivered to you tomorrow along with your purchase. Please keep this token; within the Divine Realm, you’ll be a distinguished guest at all branches of the Four Seas Merchant Association.”
Wu Wei smiled warmly. Though he’d been forced down to the bottom price, the deal was done. That piece of ancient copper had sat unsold for years—perhaps Ling Chi truly was destined for it.
“By the way, do you have any body-tempering techniques with lightning attributes? I’d like to take a look.”
Ling Chi remembered his Thunder-Gold Body Technique had reached its limit. He thought he might as well search for new techniques; Cao Bianjiao had found him speed-focused methods, but they weren’t quite the same.
“Please wait, Master Ling. When it comes to cultivation techniques, only the Royal Treasury rivals the completeness of our Four Seas Merchant Association.” Wu Wei’s pride was evident—this was the source of his confidence.
Soon, someone brought a booklet, which Wu Wei handed to Ling Chi.
Ling Chi flipped through it swiftly, discarding most techniques after a single glance. Their names thundered, but the content was worthless.
He skipped past things like the Thunder Descending from the Nine Heavens and Swift Lightning Method—nothing worth considering.
Soon, his gaze lingered on one page.

[Immortal Body of Yang Lightning]

The description read: “Forged with mysterious yang lightning, impervious to evil, unyielding to external force.”
Following the rule that the fewer the words, the greater the mystery, Ling Chi felt this technique suited him. The term “immortal body” resonated with his previous techniques; perhaps he could blend the earlier methods into this one and make it his own.
He made his decision.
“Manager Wu, quote me a fair price.”
Seeing Ling Chi’s choice, Wu Wei immediately had the technique fetched—a copy, not the original, of course.
“Five hundred gold coins, no more. Please don’t haggle; if you do, I’ll be demoted to fourth manager next time!” Wu Wei said with a touch of resignation.
Ling Chi didn’t bargain further, paying promptly. This trip had nearly exhausted his earnings from the past few days, and considering how hard he’d worked for it, his heart ached a little.
“Master Ling, please make a martial oath not to pass this technique to others.”

This was only fair; otherwise, sellers of secret arts would go bankrupt.
Ling Chi and Cao Bianjiao wandered around, having spent most of their money, and then headed home.
“Bianjiao, have you ever heard of storage artifacts?” Ling Chi asked, curious. Owning a storage artifact was every traveler’s earliest dream.
“Storage artifacts? I doubt there are even two in all of Yingzhou. I only heard from my father that the Commander Sun Xuan, who oversees the Northwest, possesses one. My father witnessed Sun Xuan produce a weapon from thin air.” Cao Bianjiao’s eyes were full of longing.
As long as they existed, Ling Chi was determined to get one someday. His heart stirred with anticipation, though he forced himself to remain calm—his current cultivation wasn’t enough for such a treasure.
When Ling Chi returned to the Security Bureau, his master Zhao Qing had already gone back to Crane County.
With the materials yet to arrive and the blade unfinished, Ling Chi could only practice his boxing in the training grounds. He had trained in Eight Extremes Fist for a long time, and suddenly had an idea.
In his previous life, he had started martial arts too late to grasp many styles, like Xingyi Fist, Hung Fist, and Bagua Palm. He wanted to forge his own path—first imitate, then innovate, as all founders of schools had done.
This was the work of water wearing away stone; it could not be rushed, only refined with time.
Ling Chi moved with Bagua steps, his form flowing, mind deep in thought, so absorbed that he didn’t notice Cao Bianjiao approach.
“What are you pondering? I’ve called to you several times,” Cao Bianjiao complained loudly.
Ling Chi snapped out of his reverie, cold sweat breaking out. Thank goodness it wasn’t an assassin, or he’d have been done for. He resolved to be more vigilant in the future.
“I’m thinking about how to teach you my boxing. My family’s boxing has no written manual; it’s all in my head.”
Cao Bianjiao was overjoyed at last.
“I’ll just follow you and practice. Master, please accept your disciple’s bow!” With lightning speed, Cao Bianjiao knelt and began kowtowing, catching Ling Chi off guard.
“Don’t call me master. We’re brothers—don’t use that title. I’ll accept these bows on behalf of my ancestors.” Ling Chi wiped cold sweat from his brow.
“Go prepare offerings and incense. Once we bow to the founder, we’ll begin.” Ling Chi was traditional at heart, especially when it came to matters of lineage.
Cao Bianjiao arranged for offerings and a table. Ling Chi solemnly lit incense and bowed, honoring both the founder of Eight Extremes Fist, Elder Wu, and the old master Ling Wei, his own mentor. Ling Chi had only learned his name upon his death, having always called him “old master” out of habit.