Greed

"Good!"

"Wonderful!"

By the end, the three of them could not help shouting their approval.

"Fine, I, Fu Jingyun, agree." The man on the left spoke first.

"I, Jing Haifeng, am in as well."

"And me, Guan Yihan!"

The three rushed to speak. With their years of storytelling experience, they knew this tale would definitely become a hit, and the audience's tips would surely be generous.

The story seized the eye, its plot linked one thrilling, heart-pounding twist after another!

Even if the story spread and others could tell it too,

as the first storytellers to tell it, they would gain far more attention, attract more listeners, and receive much greater tips.

People still listened to old stories, but they were not very willing to tip.

Most already knew how the story ended. They listened only for amusement, to pass the time.

New stories were different. If a story's plot gripped them, listeners would tip just to hear what happened next.

"Then welcome aboard, gentlemen. You can also recommend other storytellers to come find me. For every successful recommendation, I can give you thirty copper coins."

Lin Zheyu said with a smile, accepting the three men's coins.

With that, Lin Zheyu had gained an extra two hundred and forty copper coins in income every day. If he developed more people beneath him, the earnings would be even more pleasing.

Songyi City, a corner of the city.

"Little Mister Lin has started a new story. It's about martial artists, and it's fantastic!"

"A story about crude martial brutes? What could possibly be so great about that?"

"Exactly, exactly. I still prefer scholar stories—seductive fox spirits and romantic encounters. Just thinking about it gets me excited."

A somewhat lecherous-looking man chimed in.

"What's so interesting about those? War and blood, fights where every punch lands on flesh, roaring when you see injustice, drawing your blade when your heart cannot bear it—that's the life a real man ought to live."

"..."

"Brother Zhou, what are they talking about? Why can't I understand any of it?" Skinny Monkey, seated nearby, asked in confusion.

He had come from Baishan District to the Inner City to look for work.

"They're talking about Little Mister Lin from Bidan Tea House."

"Little Mister Lin is a storyteller who recently made his name in Songyi City. His stories are incredibly exciting—you can hear bits and pieces of people discussing them in every street and alley."

"I like listening to his stories too. Unfortunately, I have to work and earn money, so I can't go often."

Zhou Weicheng said with a smile. He too was a fan of Lin Zheyu's storytelling.

"A storyteller? Little Mister Lin?" Skinny Monkey asked curiously. "Brother Zhou, what's Little Mister Lin's full name?"

"I think it's Lin Zheyu. He's a young scholar."

"Lin Zheyu!"

Skinny Monkey's eyes lit up.

The sky darkened as night fell.

The sun sank beneath the horizon, leaving only wisps of slanting twilight.

Baishan District.

At the usual spot, several hooligans lounged about, sitting or lying lazily as they gathered to boast and shoot the breeze.

"Brother Yu, guess who I found in the city today?" Skinny Monkey arrived at the usual spot and excitedly asked Gao Yu.

Bang—

Gao Yu casually greeted him with a punch.

"Get lost."

"If you've got something to say, say it. Don't play riddles with me." Gao Yu said irritably.

"Yes, yes, yes."

Skinny Monkey rubbed his head, baring his teeth in pain.

Gao Yu was far too strong. That one punch hurt like hell.

"Didn't you go into the city to work as a porter? What, did you run into your old flame from Hundred Flowers Pavilion?" another companion teased.

"Are you giving me the money?"

"It's been so long since I last went to Hundred Flowers Pavilion. Just thinking about that feeling—their tender skin, so soft you could squeeze water from it, that silky touch—really makes a man lose himself."

Skinny Monkey narrowed his eyes, savoring the memory.

The girls at Hundred Flowers Pavilion were far more tender than village women, and they knew all sorts of tricks. Playing with them was pure enjoyment.

Bang!

Gao Yu dropped another punch, saying impatiently, "Are you going to spit it out or not? Don't keep people hanging."

"Hiss—"

"Pain, pain, pain... Brother, go easier on me. You'll beat my brains stupid."

Skinny Monkey complained. Seeing Gao Yu glance sideways at him, he hurriedly said, "I saw Lin Zheyu in the city!"

"Lin Zheyu?"

"The guy who used to go around us whenever he saw us?"

"Haven't seen him in ages. I thought he'd died in some nameless corner." The man with a blade of wild grass in his mouth laughed.

In these times, people dying was nothing unusual, especially someone like Lin Zheyu, a refugee from another city with no one to rely on.

Walking down an empty street and getting bagged, taken away, and sold as a slave was commonplace.

Fortunately, when Lin Zheyu had first arrived in Songyi City, he had been skinny as a bamboo pole and looked malnourished. No one had wanted him at all.

"Yes, him."

"Didn't that kid say he was going into the city to become a storyteller? I asked around, and it turned out to be true."

"But we were fooled."

"He's incredibly popular in Songyi City. People go to hear his stories in an endless stream every day. I heard that his daily tips alone exceed two hundred copper coins."

Skinny Monkey said in amazement.

He had never expected storytelling to make so much money.

If someone else had made money, he would not have felt much about it, since he did not know them.

But the one making money was that impoverished refugee scholar they had once looked down on. Skinny Monkey could not help feeling jealous.

"That profitable!"

Gao Yu was stunned. And that was only tips—his actual wages had not even been counted.

How much did he earn each day after working himself to the bone doing hard labor? Yet that weak, cowardly bastard could earn so much.

An uncle might endure it, but an aunt could not!

"Brother Yu, I secretly asked around. Lin Zheyu lives alone now. He rented a small courtyard in the Inner City, in a pretty secluded location."

"Should we go pull a job on him?"

Skinny Monkey said with shifty eyes.

How much could they earn from honest work?

For these street thugs, work was merely a side job. Stealing chickens and dogs was their real profession.

"The Inner City is tightly patrolled. If we get caught..." another companion hesitated.

"What's there to fear? At worst, we go in and sit for a while. It's not like we haven't been in before." Skinny Monkey said disdainfully.

He was practically a regular in prison.

Everyone inside was talented, spoke pleasantly, and knew all kinds of rare skills and crafts. Many of his own tricks had been learned from the people in there.

Going in once was the same as getting further training.

"Then it's decided. Tonight, we'll go pull a job on him."

"While we're at it, we'll scare him a little. That guy's such a coward, all alone in Songyi City with no one to stand up for him. What do we have to fear from him?"

Gao Yu grinned.

Having recruited three storytellers, Lin Zheyu returned home in high spirits.

Once the ranks of storytellers grew large enough, all he would need to do in the future was sit back and collect money.

[Heaven Rewards Diligence]

Name: Lin Zheyu

Source Power: 2

Skills:

Bull Fist (Beginner 46%)

"Several days have passed, and the progress has not moved at all."

"After reaching Beginner level, it will take one or two years to rise to Proficient."

"With normal training, it takes over ten days to raise it by one percent. That really is a bit slow."

Lin Zheyu looked at the data in his consciousness and murmured to himself.

Several days had passed. His depleted Blood Energy had recovered, and his essence, energy, and spirit had been nourished back to their peak. It was time to break through a limit once more.

Though he had no silver to buy medicinal supplements and could not yet use Source Power to improve himself, accumulating more Source Power was never a bad thing.

After taking off his clothes, Lin Zheyu began practicing Bull Fist in the courtyard.

His fists struck the wooden post, producing dull bang, bang, bang sounds.

With every punch, the muscles across his body bulged. Every strike erupted with his greatest strength.

Beneath that lean frame of his lay tremendous power.