A Small Windfall

Both his words and his tone made it seem as though he had Hong Ming's best interests at heart.

But Hong Ming saw through it all. Behind Qian Biao's supposed generosity lay schemes more than enough to ruin a man's family and fortune.

Under such a loan, the interest alone came to thirty cash per mace every month.

Borrow one tael of silver, and the interest was three mace. Borrow ten taels, and the interest soared to three taels of silver.

It was even higher and blacker than the market's so-called "nine out, thirteen back" interest!

The key was that even if you managed to scrape together enough money to repay him later, he would make every excuse under the sun and drag things out.

Once you were utterly incapable of repaying, he would finally bare his fangs and rob you while the house was on fire.

No one knew how many common folk in Mudstone Alley had fallen victim to him, ending up with families torn apart and homes destroyed, some even losing their lives.

Hong Ming naturally would not agree, but he did not refuse outright. Instead, he said tactfully, "Thank you for your generosity, Brother Biao. I'm still fairly well-off at the moment, so I won't trouble you."

After a pause, he added another polite remark. "If I'm truly short on money someday, I'll borrow from you then, Brother Biao."

"Fine. If you need anything in the future, come find me anytime." Qian Biao was disappointed inside, but his outward performance was flawless.

Hong Ming nodded solemnly and watched the three swagger away with their noses in the air.

Just as he withdrew his gaze, a flash of color that did not belong amid the mud caught his eye.

As if realizing something, his heartbeat involuntarily quickened by half a beat. He immediately came to his senses and scanned the surroundings.

The street was sparsely populated at the moment. No one saw his unusual reaction, nor... that strange glint.

He swiftly stepped forward. Without any method or technique, merely practiced hands, he silently scooped up the money pouch in the blink of an eye and slipped it into his sleeve.

Before even opening it, he could already feel its heavy weight. His fingertips lightly kneaded the coarse cloth, and the sensation was even weightier.

Hong Ming rejoiced inwardly, but he did not inspect it on the spot. Instead, he pretended nothing had happened and slipped into a secluded alley nearby.

Only after repeatedly confirming that no one was around did he pull open the drawstring and pour out the money inside.

The cold silver and warm skin met, making even the lines on his palm tremble faintly.

When Hong Ming's gaze touched that silvery white gleam, his breathing quickened.

Lying in his palm were two mace of broken silver!

He continued pouring, shaking out another dozen or so copper coins. They made up most of his possessions, yet now seemed utterly insignificant.

Hong Ming's burning gaze still lingered on the broken silver, and a strange look gradually appeared on his face. "Could this have been dropped by Qian Biao?"

Two mace of broken silver was no small amount. Who would carry that much money around for no reason?

Dropping it was one thing, but if you showed even a little wealth, countless pairs of eyes would fix upon you. One blow from a club, and you would not keep it for even half a shichen.

Only a fellow like Qian Biao, who borrowed a tiger's might to flaunt his power and feared nothing because he had backing, would strut through the streets so ostentatiously.

Moreover, there really were traces of Qian Biao and his two companions passing by where the money pouch had fallen.

It did not matter. It was ill-gotten wealth anyway, and Hong Ming accepted it with a clear conscience.

Having made a small windfall, Hong Ming did not abandon his grand undertaking of getting rich. He continued working with his head down.

Meanwhile, Qian Biao had just collected the protection fees and was about to tuck the money into his private stash when he felt as though the sky had collapsed.

After feeling around several times, he finally confirmed the truth: his money pouch was gone!

The few coins in his hand that he had been planning to pocket now instantly lost their appeal.

"Brother Biao, what's wrong? Why do you look so awful?"

His two lackeys, on the other hand, were beaming, still immersed in the joy of getting paid.

It would have been better if they had not asked. The question immediately lit Qian Biao's fury. Damn it, why was he the one who lost money while these two bastards had not?

He could not be the only one suffering!

Qian Biao swung two resounding slaps at them, leaving both men dizzy and disoriented, with no idea what had happened.

But when their eyes fell on Qian Biao's waist, they understood. So his money pouch was missing—what was he hitting the two of them for?

After beating them, Qian Biao felt somewhat better. He did not continue taking it out on them and immediately took action instead, saying in a low voice, "Go back and look for it!"

As they retraced their path, the anticipation between Qian Biao's brows gradually gave way to gloom. After searching for half a shichen, he still had not found it!

"Brother Biao, could someone have picked it up?" one of them asked carefully.

That was highly likely. Mudstone Alley was only the size of a palm, and with people constantly coming and going, someone could easily have spotted it.

Qian Biao had actually suspected as much long ago, but he had clung to a sliver of hope and refused to accept it.

Now that he heard this, he began recalling everyone they had encountered along the way. Familiar or unfamiliar, anyone who had left an impression fell within his range of suspicion.

All sorts of memories flashed through his mind. When he thought of Hong Ming, he paused for half a breath. A trace of suspicion arose in his heart, only for him to quickly dismiss it.

Anyone could have picked up the money, and anyone was a suspect. He could not simply pin it on someone, or he would only let the true culprit off cheaply.

After racking his brains for a long while, Qian Biao still had no clue. Unable to hold back, he cursed, "What rotten luck!"

The two lackeys retreated several steps at once, afraid of touching Qian Biao's bad luck.

Only after Qian Biao's expression eased slightly, as though he had accepted reality, did one of them softly ask, "Brother Biao, are we still collecting protection fees today?"

Protection fees could be collected anytime. He was worried that Qian Biao would grow jealous upon seeing that the two of them had made money. Beatings were minor; having their money snatched was the real concern.

"Collect!" Qian Biao replied through gritted teeth.

If he did not, how could he make up for this loss?

At dusk.

A few scattered black crows bore the lingering glow of the setting sun as they swept across the sky like lightning, as though competing with the lights of human habitation for the last gleam of daylight.

There was only a quarter of an hour left of the two-shichen limit, yet there were no further gains.

Worn out in both body and mind, Hong Ming chose to stop and calculated what he had earned. "Aside from what I got from the money pouch, it comes to thirty-two cash in total. A little less than expected."

He had estimated that he could pick up around forty cash. It seemed he had been a little too idealistic.

That was normal enough. Mudstone Alley was not a wealthy area, after all. Where could there be so much unexpected money lying around to pick up?

His greatest gain today had still been that money pouch. It had directly multiplied his savings severalfold, even surpassing what he earned hauling goods.

"What a pity. I didn't come across any satisfactory new Traits!"

Hong Ming was somewhat disappointed. It was not as if he had found no Traits along the way, but most had been useless.

His fortune was limited to begin with, and it had to be used on the blade's edge, so naturally he had not chosen to solidify them.

He gave a slight shake of his head to dispel the distracting thoughts. It was getting late. Time to go home.

"With this money, I won't have to worry about medicine costs or protection fees for the time being."

With such a "huge sum" tucked away, Hong Ming felt far more at ease.

The way home was not far, but it was hardly safe. Once night fell, people wielding clubs to knock others unconscious appeared from time to time. If he returned too late, he might meet with trouble.

Cooking smoke rose in curling wisps in the distance, slowly squeezing out the night. It spun once in the sky, then merged into the lights of countless homes.

As he passed a gambling den, Hong Ming's steps slowed slightly.

He glanced at the still-unfaded Trait, Wealth Flowing In, on his panel, and an odd idea surfaced in his mind.

Forget it. Better not stir up trouble.

Hong Ming continued on his way. Yet after taking several more steps, he unconsciously drifted toward the gambling den.

With fortune at his doorstep, he ultimately decided to give it a try.

A moment later.

Hong Ming walked out of the gambling den, shaking his head.

He lost all three rounds he gambled, throwing away three cash. The test had yielded its result: fortune at his doorstep truly only applied to picking up money.

But he had not lost out either. After cutting his losses in time, he picked up another three cash.

Not long after setting out for home again, Hong Ming noticed that the Trait Wealth Flowing In had disappeared.

He paid it no mind and quickened his pace. Before long, he reached the street where the general store stood.

Before he even drew close, he saw a crowd gathered in front of the shop, and Grandfather's pleading voice faintly drifted out from within.