Grain Prices

Lin Qing set down his chopsticks, his expression innocent and composed.

"Sister, where is your mind wandering?"

"I was in my room practicing martial arts all night; I never stepped outside."

"As for Zhao the Scabby, he owed money to the Black Mud Gang. Isn't it perfectly normal for them to come knocking to settle the score?"

"Pan An was hanging around with him and got caught in the crossfire. He only has his own bad luck to blame."

His tone was natural and his eyes held a hint of schadenfreude, revealing not a single flaw.

Lin Wan scrutinized him for a moment. Seeing that her brother truly did not look like he was lying, she finally set her mind at ease and nodded. "That is true. That scoundrel has offended so many people; he deserved it."

She stopped doubting him, feeling only that the wicked had finally met their match, and her mood lightened considerably.

Lin Qing lowered his head and continued eating, his expression as usual.

Some things do not need to be spoken aloud.

The result is what matters most.

In this world, blind tolerance only invites others to push further.

When necessary, one must deliver a fatal blow.

And in the end, ensure that everyone.

Even those closest to you, believes it had nothing to do with you.

In the afternoon, the sky turned somewhat overcast.

Lin Qing had just finished processing some medicinal herbs and pushed open the door of Benevolent World Hall, preparing to head to the martial arts school as usual.

However, he saw seven or eight burly shop assistants standing in a dense crowd at the entrance of Security Hall across the street, blocking his path completely.

The man in the lead was about forty years old, dressed in a brand-new silk long gown. His face was fair, but his eyes were as gloomy as stagnant water.

Lin Qing recognized him; he was the head manager of Security Hall, Pan Yun.

"Young Master Lin, stay a moment."

Pan Yun's voice was not loud, but it carried an intimidating presence.

His gloomy gaze locked onto Lin Qing instantly.

Seeing that Pan Yun did not leak a single shred of his aura while moving, Lin Qing felt a jolt in his heart.

This Pan Yun seemed to possess no small amount of cultivation.

Lin Qing paused his steps and looked at the other man with a calm expression.

"Head Manager Pan, what is the meaning of this?"

"Blocking the storefront of my Benevolent World Hall—don't tell me you intend to force a sale?"

Pan Yun let out a cold snort and stepped forward, his face almost touching Lin Qing's.

He lowered his voice, his tone chilling: "Lin Qing, stop playing the fool with me. My brother, Pan An, was beaten into a critical state at Zhao the Scabby's house last night and is still bedridden."

"Do you dare say this has nothing to do with you?"

Lin Qing sneered inwardly, but his face showed signs of indignation.

"Head Manager Pan, you can eat whatever you like, but you cannot say whatever you like."

"Your brother was beaten—what does that have to do with me?"

"I was training at the martial arts school until evening yesterday, and after returning home, I never stepped out again. My neighbors can all testify to that."

"You have no evidence, yet you come here to smear my reputation. Do you really take me, Lin Qing, for a pushover?"

Lin Qing's tone grew sharper, and the blood energy within his body began to surge faintly.

Pan Yun was momentarily stunned by his righteous and stern retort, his eyes growing even gloomier.

He truly had no evidence. It was pitch black last night, and Pan An and Zhao the Scabby had been beaten into such a daze that they couldn't clearly see the attacker's face.

They only vaguely remembered the assailant claiming to be from the "Black Mud Gang."

But he instinctively suspected that Lin Qing was the one behind it.

After all, Zhao the Scabby had just gone to cause trouble at Benevolent World Hall yesterday.

"Hmph, whether it has to do with you or not, you know in your heart."

Pan Yun's face remained dark as he tried to continue applying pressure.

"On this Yongning Street, anyone who dares to touch my Pan Family..."

Just then, a Security Hall assistant ran over in a hurry, leaned into Pan Yun's ear, and whispered a few urgent words.

Pan Yun's expression turned hideous in an instant; first shock, then immediate, explosive rage.

He whipped his head around, glaring fiercely toward a direction at the end of the street as if he were about to spit fire.

"Wang Tie, you bastard! If you dare touch my brother, I will wipe out your entire family!"

He could no longer spare a thought for Lin Qing, roaring a fierce command before charging toward the end of the street where the Black Mud Gang usually operated, his subordinates in tow.

It was clear he had received some definitive news.

Watching the backs of Pan Yun and his men as they retreated.

Lin Qing breathed a secret sigh of relief, though he was also somewhat surprised.

He had not expected the situation to take such a coincidental turn.

That Wang Tie was a minor leader in the Black Mud Gang with a notorious reputation.

It was perfectly logical for Pan Yun to believe he was the one behind the attack.

It seems I've narrowly escaped a disaster.

However, Pan Yun is a man who holds a grudge; I must be even more careful in the future.

With his vigilance undiminished, Lin Qing straightened his robes and headed toward the martial hall.

Security Hall wanted to ruin his business.

Why shouldn't he do the same to them?

Passing through the market, he noticed the atmosphere was vastly different from usual.

In front of the rice and salt shops, crowds of terrified people were packed together, the sound of arguing incessant.

"Twenty wen? It was ten wen a jin yesterday, how is it twenty today?"

"You're just robbing us!"

"If you aren't buying, get lost! There are others waiting behind you!"

"You Province is already gone; who knows how high the grain prices will go tomorrow?"

"Just leave some for me, I'll buy it, alright?"

Watching the frantic scene of panic-buying, Lin Qing felt a sense of secret fortune.

Fortunately, he had reacted quickly yesterday and decisively purchased three hundred jin of brown rice. Combined with the warning Zhang Shun had given him earlier, he had enough grain at home to last for quite a while.

After all, in times of chaos, food was the root of life.

He did not linger, walking quickly through the noisy market.

Upon arriving at the Iron Thread Fist Martial Hall.

The disciples were still training, sweating like rain.

However, Lin Qing keenly sensed that.

There seemed to be some subtle changes within the hall as well.

In the center of the training ground, the area usually occupied by Hong Yuan's direct inner-sect disciples or those with exceptional strength, a circle of people had gathered.

Surrounded like stars around the moon was Liu Ying, the new recruit from yesterday who possessed superior aptitude.

She wore a well-fitted goose-yellow martial outfit, her posture upright and her appearance beautiful, making her stand out among the group of rough-hewn martial hall disciples.

And the one personally guiding her through the Iron Thread Stance was not Hong Yuan, but the inner courtyard's second senior brother, Feng Jianyun.

This Feng Jianyun was about twenty-three or twenty-four years old, with decent enough features.

But there was a sense of frivolity and arrogance between his brows.

He wore a training suit made of silk, looking completely out of place among the disciples in their coarse cloth martial robes.

At this moment, he was standing behind Liu Ying in a posture that was almost a half-embrace, one hand supporting her slender waist while the other adjusted the position of her arms, a self-proclaimed charming smile on his face.

"Junior Sister Liu, look, the waist needs to sink another three parts."

"Yes, just like that. Keep your breathing steady. That's it, you're truly clever..."

Feng Jianyun instructed with great enthusiasm.

Liu Ying seemed somewhat uncomfortable, her brows slightly furrowed and her body stiff; she wanted to break free but found it difficult to openly turn hostile.

The gazes of the surrounding disciples toward Feng Jianyun held hidden envy and jealousy, yet no one dared to step forward and interrupt.

Lin Qing watched coldly from the side.

He heard two disciples sparring nearby whispering to each other:

"Tsk, the Second Senior Brother is at it again."

"I'm afraid Junior Sister Liu won't be able to escape his clutches."

"Keep your voice down, don't let him hear you."

"Have you forgotten how Junior Brother Li, who offended him last time, ended up bedridden for half a month without anyone being able to find the cause?"

"Sigh, who can blame him? He is the young master of the Feng Family from the inner city, and a direct disciple of the Hall Master to boot."