“It’s nothing I can’t take care of,” Cha Ming said.
“For you to ask for this service, I’m sure you can handle the consequences,” Manager Mu said. “The problem is whether you wish to be exposed or not. A reputation in smithing is nothing with no works to your name. Given enough time, people will realize no one has ever swung a sword you’ve forged. Even worse, if the kingdom administrators suspect you don’t possess the skills your documentation implies, the consequences would be dire.”
“I said it’s nothing I can’t take care of,” Cha Ming said. “What’s your price?”
As far as he was concerned, the smithy would be the biggest expense. Spiritual blacksmithing followed a different model than alchemy. For one, since the goods were durable, the material costs were much higher, and though failures could be recast as lesser products, it was difficult to bear the cost of these failures. As such, smiths tended to craft low-risk items. A mid-grade grandmaster smith would mostly craft early-grade goods and initial-grade goods. On a terrific month, he might be able to gross 2,000 top-grade spirit stones, but that figure would likely be closer to five hundred depending on business.
Manager Mu licked his lips. “The usual rate for the shop would be around five years of production. Let’s call that thirty thousand top-grade stones. Our facilitation fee is usually around ten percent, but you’re asking us for something unusual. Adding up all the information tampering. I’d say we’re looking at closer to fifty thousand top-grade stones.”
Cha Ming winced.
“Too expensive?” the woman asked, disappointed.
“Not too expensive, just complicated,” Cha Ming said. “I may need to liquidate certain assets. These assets would need to be kept absolutely secret.”
“Define absolutely,” Manager Mu said, a light smile on her face.
“By absolutely, I mean that if a transcendent, or even the grand vizier of the Southern Alliance asked, the Greenwind Pavilion wouldn’t divulge the secret.”
“Ah,” Manager Mu said. “That is, unfortunately, above my pay grade. Please follow me.” She led Cha Ming outside the room and up the stairs. They arrived at the fifth floor, supposedly the highest one, and to Cha Ming’s surprise, a staircase appeared that led to a sixth floor. There shouldn’t be a sixth floor, at least, not if he judged the building from what he’d seen on the outside.
“We never met, whoever you are,” she said, bowing.
Cha Ming looked up the stairs and proceeded up. It seemed that his purchase, along with the request for secrecy, had passed some sort of threshold most weren’t qualified to know about.
At the top of the steps, the décor changed drastically. The building no longer conformed to the usual Greenwind Pavilion décor, where wooden construction was preferred over stone. Instead, the walls and the floor were built out of a glowing black rock. They were covered in green runes that emanated a faint trace of light. At the center of the room was a formation that was both familiar and foreign to Cha Ming.
He’d seen such a thing before, he soon realized; it was a teleportation formation, like the one he’d seen on the Bridge of Stars. As he entered the room, the formation glowed, and a white-haired old man in green-and-silver robes appeared.
“I don’t often get to meet premium customers in Ashes,” the man said. “Don’t bother introducing yourself. I hear the same old lies every time. It gets boring.”
Cha Ming tried to probe the man with his transcendent force but detected nothing.
“I’d also appreciate if you refrain from any infantile attempts at scanning me, impressive as they are,” the man said. “Transcendent souls are rare on this plane. I’ve narrowed you down to one in a hundred people.”
“I’d like for the Greenwind Pavilion to facilitate a purchase and forge some documents,” Cha Ming said. “But to do so, I need to liquidate certain sensitive assets.”
“Ah,” the man said. “Let’s see them, then. Regardless of whether we trade, I won’t reveal them to anyone.”
Cha Ming hesitated, then summoned the only valuable things he had: several bottles of pills, each with Grandmist seals.
“So, you’re Brother Cha Ming,” the man said. “I’m so pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”
Cha Ming winced.
“You were right to ask for secrecy. Fortunately for you, these items are in high demand. They are difficult to import from a transcendent plane. I can offer you two times the list price of standard pills of their grade.”
Cha Ming’s brow twitched. “They were selling for five times in Haijing.”
“But you weren’t so desperate back then, and your buyers didn’t have access to imported goods,” the man said dismissively. “I do. Deal or no deal?”
Cha Ming hesitated. “The purchases I inquired about, and the information tampering. Information on those things is for sale, isn’t it?”
The man grinned. “Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but not the dullest either. Yes, complete secrecy will cost you. Double.”
“Double?” Cha Ming said, aghast. “Why don’t you just rob me?” He’d only ever felt so aggrieved when dealing with the Clear Sky Brush.
“Robbing is unethical,” the man said, wagging his finger. “We only deal in legitimate business here.”
“Like information tampering,” Cha Ming said blankly.
“Like information tampering,” the man said enthusiastically.
“Since I’m here, I don’t suppose I can order massive quantities of goods while I’m at it?” Cha Ming asked.
“I, Elder Zhong, would teleport them to you personally,” the old man said. “Any information you require, I would tell you personally.”
“Then do you know the location of a Gold Essence Marrow or Gold Essence Core on the plane?” Cha Ming asked.
The man paused for a second, then nodded. “Our preliminary survey of the plane indicated that if it existed here, it would be in the Shattered Lands. I can import some for you, but the
