Brother Isn't Short of Money

The minor officials could not tell the value of the lighters and cigarettes, so they asked, "How much are these things?"

Before Feng Jun could answer, Ding Lao'er spoke first. "Fine, one copper coin."

As he spoke, he pulled out a copper coin and handed it over.

The minor official refused to accept it. "Step aside. It's not your place to say how much should be collected."

Ding Lao'er's face darkened, and he said menacingly, "Tell me, do you think you're tougher than Wang Er?"

It could not be helped. People here spoke like that—very directly, with no finesse even when threatening someone.

The minor official naturally knew that Wang Er had hit a snag last night. After all, Feng Jun was someone Lone Wolf had openly backed, and rumor had it that he was a divine physician.

But he worked in the tax office, not the constabulary, so he felt rather helpless at those words. "The town provides you a place to do business. Shouldn't you pay taxes according to the rules?"

Ding Lao'er glared and snapped viciously, "What a strange thing to say. Did we ever say we wouldn't pay?"

Feng Jun did not really mind paying a little tax. Even if he failed to sell anything, it would not matter. Unfortunately, he did not have a single copper coin in his pockets, so he could only let Ding Lao'er cover it. He had no way to interrupt.

The minor official felt deeply wronged. "The things you're selling definitely aren't cheap. One copper coin really is too little."

He had already heard that the little transparent trinket was not only exquisitely clear, but could produce fire with a press. It was certainly no ordinary object.

"It's not too little," Ding Lao'er replied gruffly. "If we can't sell anything,