Pai Xiao, Cha Ming’s new persona and the smith the inhabitants of the city would come to know quite well, had never concerned himself with these exams. The smith had grown up here. No one knew who’d initially taught him, but he advanced through trial and error and had gotten to where he was through sheer experience. His advancement was impressive, given that he’d never hired himself out to any of the bigger families or companies. In fact, he was less than a hundred years old, about middle age for a foundation-establishment cultivator.
First things first, a forge, Cha Ming thought as he reached the industrial area, where he found a small but otherwise well-stocked forge. He knocked on the door, which was quickly opened by a female attendant. “I need to speak to the owner of this forge,” Cha Ming said gruffly.
“Do you have an appointment?” the attendant asked.
Cha Ming shook his head, then released a fraction of the cultivation he wanted to project—peak foundation establishment, peak bone forging. The woman yelped and ran to the back, where the pounding of a hammer could be heard. It continued for a few minutes before finally stopping. An older man walked out from the back, shielding the timid attendant that had fetched him.
“Can I help you?” the older man asked, wiping the sweat and soot off his face with a gray towel.
“You can,” Cha Ming said. “Do you have a private room we could speak in?”
The man shrugged and led him upstairs.
“Have a seat,” the man said as they entered his office. He walked over to a corner, where a kettle and a couple of cups sat. The man ran his fingers along the side of a kettle, which instantly came to a boil. He then poured Cha Ming a cup of tea. “What business does a strong cultivator like you have with a lowly smith like me? There’s no way you’d want me to build a weapon for you. It’d break the moment you swung it.”
“That’s right,” Cha Ming said, taking a sip of the hot tea. He grimaced but choked down the bitter concoction. “My name is Pai Xiao, and I’m a spiritual blacksmith. I’d like to buy your workshop.”
“Not for sale,” the man said, an air of finality to his words. “You can leave now.”
Cha Ming nodded, then placed a single spirit stone on the table where they were seated. The man looked confused at first, but then he took in a sharp breath. Though he was only a mid-grade master smith, he’d seen one before. “That’s a top-grade spirit stone,” the man finally said.
“It is,” Cha Ming replied. The man would need to forge and sell thousands of lesser-grade weapons to generate that much profit. Even then, it would be difficult to accumulate such wealth, given how many resources normal cultivation required, much less body cultivation.
“I’ll still have to say no,” the man said, licking his lips. “I like this town. I grew up here. I might not be rich, but I have every comfort I need. If I wanted to stay, I’d need to buy a forge from someone else or convince the administration to reallocate land. It’s not worth the trouble.”
The man’s memories and thoughts ran through Cha Ming’s mind. There was truth to his words, but not the full truth. Cha Ming weighed his options and placed a second top-grade spirit stone on the table. “I want this workshop, your attendant’s employment contract, your materials, and your forge. You can keep your hammer and all the weapons you’ve made. You need to leave the city within three days and not return.”
The man hesitated. He’d spoken truthfully about his situation, but it was a hard world out there. How often did opportunities like this come by? He winced before pushing the two stones back toward Cha Ming. “Your offer is very generous, but I’ll have to pass.”
Cha Ming placed a third stone on the table. “In addition to these three stones, I’ll give you a smithing inheritance. The inheritance will only be complete to initial master grade, but it should still be useful to your advancement.”
These last words struck a chord with the man. His eyes shot up and focused on him. “You’d sell a smithing inheritance? For a workshop?”
“Yes,” Cha Ming said. “Do you accept? I don’t want to waste any more time.”
“Yes, I accept,” the man said immediately. He ignored Cha Ming’s outstretched hand—perhaps the gesture had no meaning here—and walked over to the back where he found the deed to the property. “I’ll need some time to prepare a writ of sale.”
“No need,” Cha Ming said. He looked through the documents the man presented him and used creation qi and creation essence to make a similar document in an instant. He bit his finger and infused a hint of Pai Xiao’s presence onto it, which imbued it onto the page where his name was already written. He then passed the document to the man, whose name he still hadn’t bothered to ask.
“There’s a mistake here,” the man said, pointing to a spot on the page where the date was written. “This is dated ten years ago.”
“That’s correct,” Cha Ming said. “You sold this business to me ten years ago. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it? You’ve owned it for twenty.”
The man licked his lips again. He’d begun sweating,
