A Fat Sheep Arrived, Cultivator Elder Fan

The old man stood at the doorway and first looked up at the sign above his head.

"Li Ji Zhi Xing" has four words, and the word "" in the middle is empty.

Only traces of peeling paint remain, and the original shape can still be vaguely discerned.

He nodded slightly; this should be it.

After crossing the threshold, the old man did not rush to speak, but stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze slowly sweeping across the shop.

The papers on the shelves were neatly stacked, with Xuan paper, rough-edged paper, and yellow paper categorized separately.

Several new pens were placed on the counter, and inkstones were laid out to the side.

He nodded to himself.

The paper shops in this small town are quite capable to have reached this scale.

The waiter looked up at the sound and froze.

The newcomer had an air of otherworldly grace, dressed in Green Robe with his hands behind his back. Although his hair and beard were white, he did not appear old, and his eyes were bright and piercing.

He had lived in the town for decades and had never seen anyone like this before.

He quickly put on a smile and went to greet him, bowing respectfully. "Sir..."

"I've come to pick up that painting."

The old man spoke, his voice not loud, but his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Painting?"

The waiter was taken aback, then slapped his forehead, "Oh!"

"Are you Mr. Fan from the auction in Cloudview Town?"

A few days ago, the shopkeeper went to the neighboring Cloudview Town to attend an auction, and when he came back, he told me:

An elderly gentleman took a liking to a painting, but he didn't have enough money with him at the time, so he paid a deposit and said he would come to pick it up another day. He was told to keep an eye out for it.

That gentleman's surname is Fan; it seems to be the one standing before us.

"Wait a moment, I'll go fetch the manager."

"Um."

The old man gave a casual reply, his gaze indifferently returning to the shelf.

Just then, his gaze swept across the wall and suddenly stopped—

There was a single word hanging on the wall.

Sword

The characters were small, and the paper was ordinary paper.

Yet, with each stroke of the pen, its sharpness is revealed, like a razor-sharp blade drawn from its sheath, piercing straight ahead.

The old man squinted, took two steps forward, and then stopped.

He stood there in front of the words, motionless, as if his soul had been captivated by something.

A moment later, Manager Li lifted the curtain and came out.

He recognized Mr. Fan at a glance.

With an air of otherworldly grace and dressed in Green Robe, he was the very person who had made a fleeting glimpse at that auction.

My heart skipped a beat, and I thought to myself:

It's finally here!

You should know that the person in front of you is no ordinary person.

Manager Li witnessed firsthand at the auction that all the Martial Practitioner had to bow their heads and make way for Mr. Fan.

To make Martial Practitioner bow down, one must undoubtedly be Cultivator!

The term "Cultivator" refers to a being who transcends the Martial Practitioner.

I've heard that they can absorb the energy of heaven and earth to prolong their lives, and they can also perform all sorts of Profound Mystery Technique Method.

He can command the wind and rain; one man is worth a hundred armies!

Manager Li hurriedly stepped forward, his face plastered with utmost respect, and bowed, saying, "Mr. Fan, you've arrived."

"This way, please."

He stepped aside to lead the way, gesturing for us to proceed.

His mind was completely preoccupied with how to get close to this important figure, and he didn't even notice that Mr. Fan's gaze was fixed on the word on the wall.

Mr. Fan heard him call out twice before turning his gaze away and following him into the inner hall.

Manager Li led Mr. Fan to a seat, pondering how to strike up a conversation while his hands were busy.

He turned around and took out the calligraphy and paintings that he had prepared beforehand from the cabinet.

He untied the straps, spread the scroll out on the table, flicked his sleeve, and gestured for the scroll to be displayed.

It was a Tiger Descending the Mountain Painting.

With its tiger-like eyes wide open and its imposing presence, the brushstrokes are fluid and powerful, creating an awe-inspiring effect.

This was something Manager Li had previously obtained from another Cultivator, and he considered it a treasured possession.

Mr. Fan's gaze swept across the painting.

He glanced at it for two breaths.

The painting is good; otherwise, he wouldn't have left a deposit.

But at this moment, all he could think about was the word "sword" on the wall.

The sharpness and strength of the characters, and the indescribable things hidden within them.

Like a hook, it ensnared his soul, making everything else seem utterly meaningless.

In comparison, what's in front of us is --

"Rubbish."

The voice wasn't loud, but it was crisp and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

"Mr. Fan, you..." Manager Li's lips twitched, and he sighed inwardly.

As expected, establishing a relationship with Cultivator is not so simple.

However, Old Fan seemed not to hear him, got up on his own, and walked outside.

Manager Li stood there, dumbfounded, wondering what was going on.

He subconsciously followed Mr. Fan out of the inner room and back to the shop.

It stopped right in front of the character for "sword".

Manager Li only just realized it:

"Does the gentleman like this character?"

Mr. Fan did not respond; he just kept staring at that word.

His gaze followed the beginning and ending of each stroke, from the varying shades of ink to the blank spaces, as if he were looking at something extraordinary.

After looking for a long time, he suddenly spoke:

"How much for this calligraphy?"

Shopkeeper Li was taken aback, then laughed and said, "Sir, you're joking. This is something I hang up for my own amusement; it's not for sale."

Mr. Fan shook his head.

Everything has a cause and effect, and everything has a price.

His gaze remained fixed on that one word. "Ten taels of gold."

Ten taels of gold.

Having run a paper shop for twenty years, its reputation spread far and wide, and people from the surrounding towns would come here to buy paper.

But the total revenue for the whole year is only this much.

Manager Li's eyelids twitched, but he didn't rush to respond.

He stared at Mr. Fan's face, but in his mind he was already pondering—what exactly about these words had caught the eye of this Cultivator?

Could there be some hidden secret in the paper?

Or is there some hidden meaning in the word itself that he doesn't know?

A businessman's instinctive wariness surged up.

But he knew better than anyone else where this thing came from.

It's Qin Chuan —no, that's not right.

It was something Qin Wangchuan did casually.

The paper, the ink, and the pens all came from his shop.

There was nothing suspicious about it from beginning to end.

Manager Li looked into Mr. Fan's heavy eyes, remained silent for a moment, and finally spoke:

"Sir, you're not joking?"

Mr. Fan did not answer.

He turned his gaze back to that word, his voice as calm as still water. "Fifteen taels."

Manager Li's heart tightened.

One tael of gold is worth ten taels of silver.

One tael of silver costs a thousand coins.

Fifteen taels is simply too tempting.

The previous tiger painting only cost three taels of gold, so we still got a good deal.

But right now...

This Mr. Fan started by asking for fifteen taels, and he kept adding more.

And most importantly.

This is a Cultivator.

Manager Li sensed something was amiss, but he didn't rush to refuse. Instead, he tentatively said, "Sir, this isn't some valuable calligraphy or painting. It was just something a junior casually wrote for me to hang up for fun."

Before he could finish speaking, Mr. Fan coldly interrupted him.

"Junior?"

A sneer rang out, tinged with disdain, as if he had seen through Manager Li's little scheme.

Did you think you could just make up an excuse and get rid of them?

"Absolutely impossible!"

His gaze returned to that word, his tone resolute. "This sword, this intent, was written by a swordsman, and a top-tier one at that."

"To be honest, this thing is useless to you, but I can glean some insights from it."

He paused for a moment.

Old Fan turned his head to look at Manager Li, his gaze suddenly becoming sharp.

"Fifteen taels isn't enough, I can add more."

"Twenty taels at most—any more, you'd better think twice."

The implication is that he is willing to spend money for this fortuitous opportunity, but he is unwilling to be a lamb to the slaughter.

If you are insatiable, I have the means of Cultivator to deal with you.

He simply doesn't want to use his Law Power in the mortal realm unless absolutely necessary.

Shopkeeper Li gave a wry smile, cupped his hands, and said, "Sir, this item really isn't mine; I can't make that decision."

"How about this, I'll go ask..."

"No need."

Mr. Fan raised his hand to interrupt, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument.

"Just tell me who wrote this character."

"Since you are a person of great ability, I should personally pay you a visit."