Old Bian was plump and prosperous-looking, with a kindly face.
Father and son sat together. Though he wanted to curse, deep down, he really was a little afraid of his eldest son.
It was nothing else he feared: he feared something happening to him, feared him never marrying, feared being disliked by him.
Normally, such feelings belonged to ordinary households. For a wealthy family like theirs to have them was hardly unheard of, but it was rare.
Old Bian knew his son well. He had been clever and precocious since childhood, quick to learn anything.
So he had placed high hopes on this son from very early on.
Unfortunately, his son had no interest in the family businesses and insisted on learning some damned martial arts.
Some people mastered Whirlwind Ground-Sweeping Legs at Shaolin Temple, yet resented their fathers for not being Li Ka-shing.
Some people had fathers who were the equivalent of Li Ka-shing, yet insisted on learning those damned martial arts.
Life really was that strange.
His son did not ignore everything, either. Over the years, whenever the family encountered business problems, they could send a letter up the mountain, and he would still offer advice.
And every suggestion he offered helped the family weather its difficulties.
With a business mind like that, refusing to inherit the businesses was a criminal waste of heaven's gifts. He would suffer retribution for it-Pah, pah, pah! My son will live to a hundred!
To give his son a sense of crisis, he had even taken a concubine, married a second wife, and had a child.
But his cleverness backfired. Bian Zhenxuan said that now there was Old Second, Old Second could inherit the family estate.
How the hell was that the same?
Huh?!
A legitimate son and a concubine's son-he was not blind!
Perhaps because he could see that Bian Zhenxuan truly did not want to inherit the family estate, Old Bian was especially afraid of him.
Seeing his son return, his earlier feelings were swept away in an instant, replaced by a kindly, ingratiating smile.
"Son, I heard your master died?"
"Yes."
"Oh dear, what a pity."
Bian Zhenxuan glanced at his father. "If you weren't smiling, I might actually believe you."
"I'm not." Old Bian leaned closer. "What I mean is, since your master's gone, what's left to stay on the mountain for? Come home. Even if you don't inherit the family businesses, you could look after your mother and me in our old age.
"Your mother misses you. She thinks about you day and night, cries every day. Her eyes are swollen from crying all day long."
Old Bian looked expectantly at his son. Though playing on his feelings was ineffective, he had never given up.
What if it worked? What if it actually worked?
"Where's Old Second?" Rather than answer directly, Bian Zhenxuan asked about his half brother.
"Old Second should still be at school. He hasn't come home yet."
"How are his studies?"
"Ahem, only at the level of a licentiate. Certainly no match for you. After another two years of studying, I'll let him start learning the family business." As he spoke, Old Bian glanced at his son, hoping to see his reaction.
But Bian Zhenxuan nodded. "Yes, that sounds good."
Alas!
Old Bian's spirits sank.
Just then, Lady Jia came bustling in, hugged her son the moment she entered, and began to cry.
"My son, you're finally back! Your mother missed you to death!"
Behind her came the second madam, Old Bian's concubine and Bian Zhenxuan's second mother.
A concubine had no standing. She greeted Bian Zhenxuan with a respectful bow.
Bian Zhenxuan merely smiled, then began comforting his mother.
After a long bout of coaxing, he finally soothed her.
The family sat down together. After three rounds of drinks, his mother took his hand, wanting a heart-to-heart.
They talked all night. Early the next morning, Bian Zhenxuan went to his father.
"Father, I have something to discuss with you."
"What is it?"
"Two business ventures guaranteed to make money."
Old Bian had been about to leave for the shop, but hearing his son say this, he was no longer in a hurry.
Father and son sat down, and Bian Zhenxuan explained the Tianyang Sect's current situation and what Zhang Qingyuan intended to do.
He took out two sheets of paper and handed them to his father.
Old Bian took them. One depicted a bed with an upper and lower berth.
"This kind of bed is quite novel," Old Bian said after studying it carefully.
"Do you think anyone would buy it?"
He nodded. "Yes. It's novel, after all. Better academies, better businesses, even large inns should buy some.
"But no one else would."
The army certainly would not buy them. Soldiers slept on communal sleeping platforms, though middle- and lower-ranking officers would use them.
Sects would buy them. Outer disciples still slept on communal platforms to save space and costs. Personal disciples had private rooms, while inner or special disciples sharing rooms between two or three people would probably use beds like these.
Good academies would too, as would ordinary guest rooms in large inns.
Both father and son could see at a glance that the upper classes would not use these bunk beds, since they had private rooms, while those at the bottom would not use them either, since they slept on communal platforms. Only people in the lower-middle strata would use them.
They would sell and make money, but they would not be wildly popular.
Their novelty would earn a tidy sum early on, but there might not be much room left later.
They were not difficult to make, after all. One look would explain everything, and within two or three months, people would start copying them.
"Then make a batch in secret. Don't sell them yet. Give the Tianyang Sect five thousand of these beds. Give them, without charging anything."
"How many?" Old Bian exclaimed. "Do you know how much that would cost?"
The little bastard stayed away, but the moment he returned, he wanted to dig money out of his own family's pockets. Who the hell had he inherited that temperament from?
Old Bian thought this to himself, refusal written all over his face.
"My junior brother Zhang Qingyuan designed this bed. He's giving it to you for free without taking a cut. What more do you want?"
"Your junior brother designed it?"
"Yes."
"Even so, five thousand beds is too many."
"There's more. Don't rush." Bian Zhenxuan pointed at the sheet underneath. "Isn't there another page?"
Dubiously, Old Bian took out the second sheet. Written on it were the names "Tianyang Editorial Department," "Phoenix Cry Newspaper Enterprise," and so forth.
Below was a detailed plan, clearly laying out everything from establishing the editorial department to editing the news and future distribution.
After reading it, Old Bian looked up at his son in disbelief.
"Your junior brother came up with this too?"
Bian Zhenxuan nodded slightly. "What do you think now?"
"What a damned talent!" Old Bian praised fiercely, then continued, "Making your junior brother sect master is a waste of his talent. What's the point of being sect master of that half-dead sect?
"Here's what you do. Tell your junior brother to quit and come to our family. As long as he comes, I'll give him thirty percent of our family's shares."
In the newspaper business, Old Bian truly saw a long, open road stretching ahead.
How much could newspapers earn?
Only so much.
Even with a profit of two copper coins per paper, issuing a hundred thousand copies every five days would only bring in two hundred thousand copper coins, or two hundred taels of silver. Six issues a month meant twelve hundred taels of silver a month.
He was not boasting, but he really did not think much of twelve hundred taels a month.
The family's timber business alone saw twenty thousand taels flow in and out each month.
Their major businesses also included seafood and cloth.
But was he looking at the money from selling newspapers?
What he saw was the power to shape discourse and the benefits of advertising. Those were real advantages that ten thousand pieces of gold could scarcely buy.
No wonder people said merchants had so many angles. From this single proposal, he had seen endless benefits.
Bian Zhenxuan ignored his father's suggestion and said directly, "All newspaper proceeds must be split fifty-fifty with the Tianyang Sect."
Old Bian gritted his teeth. "Fine. We'll split them however you say."
"Good. Start assembling the editorial department. I'll head back."
"Back where?" Old Bian stopped him.
"Back to the mountain."
"Wait, you only just got back, and you're leaving already?"
"Haven't I already stayed the night?" Bian Zhenxuan took his father's arm and explained, "I'm now the Tianyang Sect's deputy sect master and head of the Tianyang Sect Finance Department. There's a lot of work and heavy responsibilities.
"Get the editorial department set up within ten days. Find licentiates who write well and need money. Don't be stingy."
"Are you the father, or am I? Hah, that little bastard."
Bian Zhenxuan left. Old Bian stood there and thought a little longer. "First, assemble the staff."
Besides editors, the editorial department needed a printing unit. All these were matters Old Bian had to consider.
Bian Zhenxuan returned to the mountain. He had accounts to calculate and needed to get every account straight.
The finance department also had to oversee their eldest brother's purchasing, lest he spend too much.
For three days straight, the entire Tianyang Sect bustled with activity.
Their eldest brother supervised the work. The Tianyang Sect's unsafe buildings and dilapidated grounds were being renovated in an orderly fashion, bringing the whole sect to life.
Old Second roamed the jianghu. In just three short days, he wiped out three bandit strongholds and killed five bandits.
One had even been in the Fifth-Grade Realm, and he had beheaded him with a single sword strike. He had already earned a modest reputation along the Eastern Realm's coast.
Bian Zhenxuan ran back and forth between the mountain and the city, keeping an eye on both the Tianyang Sect and his father's progress.
Zhang Qingyuan had shut himself in his room for those three days. Apart from eating, drinking, and relieving himself, he never left. No one knew what he was doing inside.
The fourth and fifth brothers had been waiting all along.
As the atmosphere within the sect grew increasingly tense, their hearts began to pound too.
"What do you think Old Seventh's doing in his room?"
Bai Shuyan sat in Li Moran's room. The two brothers were drinking tea.
Several sheets of paper covered in names lay on the table beside them.
Ever since Zhang Qingyuan asked them that night to collect the names of experts along the Eastern Realm's coast, the two had been gathering together.
Sitting cross-legged and circulating his cultivation in meditation, he answered without opening his eyes, "Who knows?"
Since taking the pill Zhang Qingyuan gave him, he had successfully broken through from the Sixth-Rank Realm to the Fifth-Grade Realm.
Fourth Brother had taken one too. He remained in the Fifth-Grade Realm. His True Qi had grown considerably, but not enough for a breakthrough.
Fifth Brother, meanwhile, took advantage of the medicinal effects to cultivate hard.
Fourth Brother had also been an orphan adopted as a child. He was blessed with good looks that stirred tenderness in anyone who saw him.
Fifth Brother was different. Though an orphan, he knew who his parents were.
His parents had once been great heroes of the jianghu. He had been ten that year.
He clearly remembered his parents being pursued by enemies, taking him along as they fled.
In the end, both his parents died tragic deaths. Before his father died, he was hacked to death by their enemies while protecting his mother and him.
His father's martial arts had not been weak. He had been a Fourth-Rank Realm expert.
Unfortunately, his martial arts consisted only of attacks, with no evasive or defensive techniques.
In that final battle, because he had to protect his wife and son, his father could not abandon them to take the offensive. That was why he had died so abruptly.
Because of his father's death, ever since joining the Tianyang Sect, all the martial arts he learned had been defensive techniques and movement arts.
The Tianyang Vajra Indestructible Body, the Nine Yang Great Sun Golden Crow Art, Flowing Cloud Steps, and so on.
His talent was fairly good. While he was in the Seventh-Rank Realm, even Fifth-Grade Realm experts could not break through his defenses.
If he truly wanted to evade them, even Fourth-Rank Realm experts without movement arts probably could not touch him.
People always sought to make up for what they lacked.
After finishing the list, the two brothers waited in the room.
Seeing him still meditating, Fourth Brother grew bored and continued asking, "What exactly do you think Old Seventh has in mind? What's his plan? Can our Tianyang Sect really return to what it was centuries ago?"
"I don't know."
"You don't seem anxious at all."
"What good would being anxious do? Apart from him, do you have a solution, or do I?"
Rebuffed, Fourth Brother rolled his eyes. "Why did he have us make a list of these frustrated poor devils who can't afford to eat?
"Does he mean to take them in as disciples?
"But that doesn't make sense either. Plenty of them are already decades old. What could they do if we brought them up the mountain?"
"I don't know."
"Ah, he won't tell us what he's thinking. He's handed out all the tasks, but apart from having Eldest Brother renovate the sect, I can't tell what anyone else is doing, or even what we're doing."
Fifth Brother opened his eyes, utterly helpless. He did not know what their junior brother intended either. But since they had made their choice, they had to trust him unconditionally.
Because everyone knew that if the sect remained as it had been, only a dead end awaited them.
Previously, no one nearby dared annex the Tianyang Sect because their master was there. The weight carried by a Third Rank martial artist spoke for itself.
But their master had died so suddenly that the seven brothers had not had enough room to grow.
Without an expert holding the fort, how could the other sects possibly pass up such a large piece of fat meat?
So, since the other six could not think of a good way to stop all this, they had to trust Old Seventh unconditionally.
"Could you shut your mouth for a while? You prattle on worse than those gossiping women."
"Hey, damn it, listen to you. Aren't I just worried?"
"Listen more and do more. Talk less and watch more," Fifth Brother said, tapping the table.
"Fine, fine, fine. You can all keep your composure."
Fourth Brother stopped talking too, sitting there sulking.
Fifth was just about to resume meditating when the door opened. He opened his eyes and saw that Zhang Qingyuan had already walked in.
"Qingyuan."
The two men rose and got out of bed.
Zhang Qingyuan entered the room. For the past three days, he had not shut his eyes or slept at all, as though he had returned to those years of spending whole nights at internet cafés in his previous life.
Fortunately, with True Qi sustaining him now, he could still manage three to five days without sleep.
"Fourth Senior Brother, Fifth Senior Brother."
After entering the room, Zhang Qingyuan turned his gaze toward the sheets of paper on the table.
"Are these the lists you wrote up of martial artists who haven't found success?"
"Yes."
Fifth got off the bed and explained, "These two sheets with more names are all in the lower three ranks. These two are in the middle three ranks."
Zhang Qingyuan picked up the papers on the table and glanced through them, asking as he read, "Can any of them kill someone above their realm?"
"Yes."
Fourth was very eager now. He pointed to several names. "This one, this one, and this one. These three may be in the lower three ranks, but they can all kill above their rank."
"Do you know their addresses?"
Zhang Qingyuan folded the lists and tucked them into the front of his robe.
"Yes."
"Good. Get your gear. Fifth Brother, go find me a carriage. We'll set out in two hours."
"Mm."
Fifth darted off to find a carriage, while Fourth asked curiously, "Where are we going?"
Zhang Qingyuan patted his chest.
"To invite teachers!"