Selling Smuggled Salt

For the disaster victims, who had almost nothing to their names, the proposal was unquestionably tremendously appealing.

A thirty-percent rent was not low by current standards, but it was by no means harsh, especially considering that the temple would provide the seeds and even guarantee their safety.

More importantly, they saw hope of keeping the fruits of their own labor and perhaps settling down in the future.

The crowd was quite excited, buzzing with discussion. On many faces appeared a light full of drive that had been absent for a long time.

However, two developments went slightly beyond Qing He Miao's expectations.

The first occurred after the selection of the temple guards was complete.

After a simple examination and voluntary registration, fifteen relatively fit young men were chosen to become the first Wind Spirit Moon Shadow Temple Guards.

Qing He Miao distributed part of their first month's pay on the spot, settling the bill in grain as before.

He also made the basic patrol and guard-duty arrangements clear.

They were pretty much modeled on standard security-guard procedures.

Just as he finished entering the men's names in the register—

[Ding! Congratulations on forming your own troop. You have obtained the corresponding Captain Privileges.]

[Troop name: Wind Spirit Moon Shadow Temple Guards (provisional)]

[Troop members: 15/15]

[Troop Loyalty: 51]

[Troop Traits: Hastily assembled from disaster victims, the troop lacks training and cohesion. When encountering enemies far superior in organization and strength, its morale is highly prone to collapse, and the likelihood of a rout increases significantly.]

[Troop Traits: When individual members act alone, there is a small chance they will engage in theft, conceal loot, or commit similar acts.]

A series of system notifications flashed through Qing He Miao's mind, leaving him momentarily startled.

He had not expected the system to have retained the game's party feature.

Troop? Loyalty? Traits?

He repeated the words silently, carefully examining the new information.

This information had only appeared in the game he played in his previous life when he undertook certain quests that required him to party up with NPCs.

According to the game's rules, loyalty just over 50 meant they barely had a sense of belonging.

But it was clearly not yet secure.

Neither of the two traits was positive, either.

What about experience points?

A crucial question suddenly occurred to him.

In the game, partying up with NPCs worked just like partying up with players.

Not only was experience from killing monsters shared, but there was also a party bonus.

So when undertaking quests that put them in a party with powerful NPCs, many players would often hold off on completing the quest.

Instead, they would take the NPCs all over the map.

They would farm every monster they could before continuing with the quest.

Qing He Miao needed to test it.

So he immediately instructed one of the guards to slaughter a chicken.

Before long, the system's familiar notification sounded right on cue.

On one hand, as he was LV 11 and the chicken was LV 2, the difference between their levels was already greater than five, so the experience itself had been heavily reduced.

On the other hand, apparently because he had not done the deed himself, there was an additional reduction.

As a result, the experience he gained was minuscule, almost negligible.

But he had genuinely received it.

A sharp light flashed in Qing He Miao's eyes, and he immediately thought of more possibilities.

Many a little made a mickle; grains of sand piled up into a tower.

As his level rose, the level and number of "monsters" he needed to deal with to gain a level would increase as well.

Even if he had AOE skills in the future, he might not be able to keep up.

Even if he could, he was still worried something might go wrong when he looked at the [Killing Intent] status in his status bar!

Chapter 56: Selling smuggled salt

In the end, the chicken gave the disaster victims an extra dish with their meal.

As for the second thing Qing He Miao had not anticipated,

It happened while he was planning to get away and try to meet this world's protagonist once he had settled the first group of disaster victims,

To see whether he could take the opportunity to gain access to higher-level martial arts.

The warmth of early spring had only just begun to spread, and the stream in front of the Wind Spirit Moon Shadow Temple was gradually flowing freely again, when new trouble arrived unexpectedly.

Another group of refugees in ragged clothes, their faces sallow and bodies thin, followed vague rumors and trickled in one after another.

What a pain in the ass.

Qing He Miao stood in front of the temple, looking at the uninvited guests gathered there, and sighed inwardly.

In troubled times, human lives were as worthless as grass, and migration and flight seemed endless.

This time, it was said that clouds of war were gathering again between Liang and Jin. Conscription and levies in the regions at and around the front had grown excessive, and exploitation had intensified. Many common people simply could not survive and had no choice but to leave their homes.

"Those bastard warlords should be swept into the garbage heap of history..."

Qing He Miao cursed under his breath, though he knew cursing would do no good.

With no other choice, he could only have the guards set up the large iron pots again, light fires beneath them, and pour in millet and other grains to cook into a steaming meal.

The familiar aroma of rice porridge drifted over the open ground in front of the temple once more.

With the armed guards maintaining order, the newly arrived refugees did not dare fight over the food and formed a long, crooked line.

They then squatted eagerly to one side and wolfed it down.

The population had suddenly increased.

The remaining temple repair work left over from the first group of disaster victims was soon fully allocated again.

Qing He Miao had no choice but to expand the construction plan further, preparing to dig another deep well and build several more rows of houses.

In any case, there was no way they were getting it for free.

One day, Huang Wulang invited Qing He Miao into the mountains to hunt, both to strengthen their friendship and for recreation.

After spending this time together and making a deliberate effort to learn, Qing He Miao had long since learned to ride a horse, like most heroes of ancient times.

He had even obtained the system-certified [Riding] (beginner) skill.

As for why he had not known how to ride before, he simply left them to come up with their own explanations.

In fact, in ancient times, it was like driving a car in the modern world: not everyone had a license.

The two rode side by side, their horses' hooves treading the damp spring mountain path, the air filled with the scent of earth and new plants.

Many wild animals that had gone hungry all winter were beginning to come out in search of food.

When they reached a relatively open, gentle slope, Qing He Miao reined in his horse and gazed seemingly casually at the distant mountains. As though making conversation, he asked Huang Wulang beside him:

"Fort Master Huang, you've lived here a long time. Is it easy enough for common folk to obtain salt? What is the price like?"

This was something he had already been considering.

If he could profit here from the modern world's almost unlimited supply of extremely cheap refined salt, it would be an excellent way to reap a ten-thousandfold return on a single investment.

When making one's way in the mortal world, only with money could one be truly carefree.

"So that's what you wanted to ask about, Daoist."

Unexpectedly, Huang Wulang was momentarily taken aback. Then he explained with professional expertise:

"To tell you the truth, Daoist, our Hebei region has been an important salt-producing area since ancient times. In particular, the prefectures of You, Ji, Cang, and Jing are close to the Bohai Sea and have many salt pans and salt marshes.

"Even under the previous dynasty, Hebei's salt tax was a major levy. Though the realm is in chaos now, which of the local Regional Military Governors and powerful families doesn't keep a grip on the profits from salt? The salt produced here is enough to supply the region, and it is often sold elsewhere as well."

Thus, in this region,

As long as wartime blockades were not particularly severe,

Salt was not exactly cheap for ordinary people, but neither was it in particularly short supply.

Only after Huang Wulang explained did Qing He Miao learn

That Hebei had been a salt-producing region since ancient times and had no shortage of salt at all.

He was immediately filled with regret.

It seemed the abacus for this business would not be so easy to work.

Huang Wulang was shrewd indeed. Reading his expression, he immediately had a thought and urged his horse closer, asking tentatively:

"Oh? From the way you speak, Daoist, could it be that you have a source?"

Qing He Miao could not help feeling somewhat disappointed. Making no real effort to hide it, he sighed and said:

"I had been thinking of doing some business, to see whether you could find a market in the mountains. I never expected you wouldn't be short of it here. It seems I miscalculated."

"Ah! There is a market, there is! There's something you don't know, Daoist! Even if we're not short of salt here, other places are!"

Huang Wulang's eyes lit up. He hurriedly waved his hand and urged his horse slowly through a small half-circle around Qing He Miao, his voice betraying excitement he could not conceal:

"Besides, even here, Government Salt is subject to layer upon layer of exploitation. It's coarse and expensive. If there were cheaper smuggled goods, there'd be both a market and a price for them, with no need to worry about finding buyers!

"To tell you the truth, Daoist, the Huang Family has operated in these mountains for generations. We have contacts on both the waterways and the overland routes. If there really is a steady supply, there's great potential in this business!"

The only question was how much Daoist Qingmiao could supply.

A path had appeared around the mountain!

Qing He Miao's spirits lifted.

It seemed the smuggled-salt trade was hugely profitable in any era.

Even local powers like Huang Family Fort were delighted to hear of it.

"Since you've been so frank, Wulang, I won't hide it from you either. I have quite a few connections. As for salt, I can get however much you need."

He quickly made his calculations, but wore a composed expression as he said:

"Besides, I also have some connections in the Western Regions. After learning that salt was plentiful here, I had intended to switch to selling something else—spices. Would you be interested, Wulang?"

"Refined salt?! And spices from the Western Regions?!"