Facing Zhang Cong's teasing, Feng Xin's brows drooped, and the muscles in his face twitched several times before he weakly squeezed out, "What virtue or ability does Feng possess to dare usurp the position of incense master in the Holy Sect? If you do not mind, we may simply address each other as brothers."
It had truly been a run of bad luck. At the beginning of the year, the Feng family warehouse had inexplicably caught fire, and tens of thousands of catties of timber meant for delivery to customers had been reduced to ashes.
That had been goods worth over a hundred thousand taels of silver!
And the delivery deadline had been only days away!
The entire Feng family had been running about in a panic, begging everywhere in hopes of buying a batch of timber on credit to get through the delivery first and worry about the rest afterward.
But who did not know of their predicament?
Who would be willing to risk their own fortunes to provide charcoal in snowy weather?
Feng Xin had thought of the Sun family at the time—not that he expected them to fill such a massive hole, but he had hoped they could stand guarantor and persuade the buyer to grant him some more time.
To put it bluntly, he had hoped to use the Sun family's influence to pressure others.
Yet the moment Feng Xin arrived at the Sun residence, he ran into someone head-on. It was none other than Su Xingfang, magistrate of Wanping County.
Though both men were sixth rank, there were worlds of difference between their actual authority and prestige. More importantly, the Feng family timber shop operated within Wanping County's jurisdiction.
Seeing the local magistrate before him, Feng Xin could not help taking the initiative to exchange