Inside Qingfeng Pavilion.
At a particular counter that had already ford a slightly longer queue, the atmosphere was sowhat awkward.
A scholar in blue robes, carrying a backpack and wearing a sword, fumbled in his bosom and then took out ten exquisitely small Spirit Stones.
"Sister, can you round down a bit?"
The scholar said with a radiant smile.
"That will be eleven Spirit Stones."
The beautiful woman wasn't buying it.
Seeing that his "handso man trick" was ineffective, Zhao Rong's smile stiffened.
He turned to look at the queue behind him.
Boy, there were already eight or nine people waiting, especially the one right behind him, a man with a sinister gaze and fierce expression, his nose hook-shaped.
Zhao Rong shivered slightly in fear.
"Sister, if I change to Tranquility Ferry, would it be one less Lower Grade Spirit Stone?"
"I'm sorry, young master, but our ferry's ticket charge is one Lower Grade Spirit Stone for two stops, disembarking at Tranquility Ferry also requires eleven stones."
"Cough, cough, is there a lower-class cabin?"
"I'm sorry, young master, Qingfeng Pavilion's ferry only has regular and VIP cabins."
"Then do you accept gold? I've brought so with ..."
Before Zhao Rong could finish, the beautiful woman behind the counter, wearing a formulaic smile, gently shook her head.
Had he failed before even beginning?
Zhao Rong looked listless.
Actually, he still had one thod left. He could go up to the third floor to pawn so of his mother's keepsakes, which would not only cover the cost of the ferry ticket but would also leave him with plenty of Spirit Stones.
But Zhao Rong never even considered this option.
It wasn't that he didn't know, but he was unwilling.
So of his mother's keepsakes had been given to Lingfei and Zhao Qian'er, and so were left to him.
He had already had Zhao Kuo sell so of them before, and now what remained were items of significant sentintal value that he really couldn't sell anymore, otherwise, he would be unworthy of being her son.
At that mont, so commotion arose from the queue behind him.
"The penniless bum should hurry up and get out of the way for this young master!"
"Don't block the toilet if you're not going to use it!"
Hearing this, Zhao Rong's eyes turned cold, and he turned around to see that the shouter was a brocade-clad young master with an impatient face.
Although the first floor of Qingfeng Pavilion was vast, the brocade-clad young master's voice was louder, heard throughout the hall.
The surrounding people in queues, those resting with tea, and those preparing to go upstairs all turned their gaze toward him.
Seeing himself beco the focus of everyone around, the brocade-clad young master casually opened his folding fan, gently waving it with a nonchalant smile, staring at the poor man who dared to look back and et his eye, taunting him.
"Has Qingfeng Pavilion fallen to such a state?"
"What kind of ssed-up stuff are they letting in here?"
"So they've stopped doing business and started running a charity instead?"
Zhao Rong rely glanced at him for a while, then looked away.
He bowed apologetically to the onlookers around him and then turned his head back.
No longer paying attention to the man who was causing a scene behind him.
Lin Qingxuan, seeing Zhao Rong ignoring him, felt a surge of anger. He had always been oppressed and looked down upon by his brother who studied at Siqi Academy, but today, to be ignored by a pauper who couldn't even afford a ferry ticket was intolerable!
He closed his fan with one hand, ready to speak again, but was pulled at the sleeve by an old servant behind him.
"Young master, he seems to be related to Linlu Academy..."
Upon hearing this, Lin Qingxuan was startled, and only then noticed the flag behind Zhao Rong's bookcase. His expression tightened, but soon he sneered with contempt.
"Pfft, could a 'Reading Seed' from Linlu Academy really not afford even this bit of spirit stone? Just by picking up a pen they can make a fortune."
"This poor fellow is probably just flaunting the academy's na to look important. Aren't there plenty of people like him around the mountain every year?"
"Besides, even if he does have so connection to Linlu Academy, so what? Does that an the academy can be unreasonable?"
Speaking of this, he was reminded of his brother, who always pressed him with grand principles, looking down at him with such superiority in his gaze.
Scholars should die!
"Occupying a spot without making use of it, wasting everyone's ti, and still not allowing others to complain? Even if a teacher from the academy were standing before , I would still say..."
"You are just a poor, pretentious, big-talker!"
With each of the last three words, Lin Qingxuan pointed at Zhao Rong's head through the air with his folding fan.
Having said this, he lightly lifted his chin, calmly opened his fan, and gently waved it, feeling quite pleased with himself.
The expressions of the people around varied.
So reveled in schadenfreude, so nodded in agreent, so watched with cold eyes, and so turned and left.
Zhao Rong heard the words behind him but said nothing, preparing to retrieve his talisman and think of another plan outside.
The beautiful woman behind the counter sighed to herself, wondering what odd custors had co today, though she sowhat agreed with the criticisms of the brocade-clad young master despite his troubleso deanor and overbearing style.
Using a fake flag from Linlu Academy to bully others? I almost believed you!
Going to Linlu Academy? Heh, probably just like those scholars who flock to the academy each year, only to be thoroughly turned away.
If you don't have money, don't waste my ti! Cultivation itself is a race against ti and heaven; if it weren't for earning so contributions for her sect, she wouldn't have wanted to leave Qingfeng Pavilion to take up this foul-slling stewardship here.
But thinking of her sales figures, she glanced at the poor scholar who seed about to bolt after having his pride pricked, cleared her throat softly, and spoke in a gentle voice.
"Master, if you have no money, why not try composing so poetry? Our shop is willing to provide so ink and paper for you to try your hand. Even though it might be inconvenient for our shop to buy your masterpiece directly, perhaps another discerning guest might fancy it. It's best to write sothing pleasing; who knows, if a guest is delighted, they might just toss you a lower-grade spirit stone."
This situation wasn't unique to Qingfeng Pavilion; many rchants on the mountain encountered it, where cash-strapped Confucian scholars tried to exchange poetry for spirit stones.
Though it was usually the scholars who proposed this, the beautiful woman was slightly surprised at seeing Zhao Rong preparing to leave without a word and felt inclined to call him back to try.
After all, the Great Dao seed to particularly favor Confucian scholars; once a scholar's new poetry was recognized as high-quality by the world, the paper bearing the poetry could imdiately begin absorbing spiritual energy from heaven and earth, transforming it into a treasure beneficial to cultivators on their path to the Great Dao.
However, these instances were extrely rare; Qingfeng Pavilion had not seen a single one since its establishnt.
Could a Confucian scholar who could write high-quality poetry really lack money? Any such poem invariably starts at a high-grade spirit stone! the beautiful woman thought to herself.
Yet every few decades, tales of a destitute scholar randomly producing high-quality poetry at so rchant's place on the mountain still surfaced, providing a topic for the cultivators to chat about for a while.
Hearing her words, Zhao Rong halted his departing steps and looked up at the smiling beautiful woman. Just as he was about to speak, a mocking voice ca from behind him.
"This beautiful sister has it right; don't be in such a hurry to run away. You poor, pretentious big-talkers have plenty of acid in your bellies, why not spill so for this young master to see?"
"If you can amuse , I might just be happy enough to let so spirit stones slip through my fingers for you, enough to buy a boat ticket, no less!"
The crowd burst into laughter as a young girl in green, with an innocent face, couldn't help but cover her mouth with a giggle, seemingly struck by sothing Lin Qingxuan said. Noticing the attention on her, she stuck out her tongue and quickly hid behind her companion.
Zhao Rong continued to ignore Lin Qingxuan, paused for a mont, and pulled up a wry smile, turning to the beautiful woman and spoke, "No need."
Heh, a re spirit stone to make write poetry?
Zhao Rong reached out to take back the ten spirit stones he had previously placed on the counter.
Lin Qingxuan's smile was bright.
The beautiful woman smiled indifferently.
The green-clothed girl felt sowhat bored.
The crowd was getting ready to disperse.
Suddenly, a dark, bony hand erged from behind Zhao Rong and placed an object next to Zhao Rong's hand.
It was a spirit stone.
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