Chapter 392: Should I Leave
“Ah?” Zhang Laizi stood utterly dumbfounded.
Jiang Chen plopped down onto a nearby wooden bench, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “This true… ahem… I intend to form a monster-hunting team. What do you think?”
Snapping back to reality, Zhang Laizi blinked rapidly before slipping into a serious, analytical tone. “The resource drain for a hunting team depends entirely on its scale. A five-person squad burns through at least one to three Mid-grade Spirit Stones a month. A ten-person crew needs three to nine. A large company of twenty or more? You’re looking at a minimum of ten Mid-grade Spirit Stones monthly.”
Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “That’s it?”
Even at the maximum estimate, ten Mid-grade Spirit Stones equated to a mere thousand Low-grade Spirit Stones. Truth be told, he occasionally dropped more than that on a single meal. To think he could fund a large-scale monster-hunting outfit in a Loose Cultivator market for such pocket change… it was almost absurd.
“That’s just the baseline upkeep,” Zhang Laizi quickly clarified. “The moment a hunt begins, those costs double at the very least. If market prices for supplies spike, the expenses can multiply several times over.”
“And how many cultivators make up a large team?” Jiang Chen asked, his curiosity piqued. “If they deploy for one hunt a month, what’s the total cost in Mid-grade Spirit Stones?”
“A large team requires a fixed roster of at least twenty members, though that number fluctuates based on the target,” she answered without hesitation. “Factoring in a monthly hunt, you’d need between ten and twenty Mid-grade Spirit Stones.”
Without another word, Jiang Chen retrieved the small Storage Bag he had just acquired from Chi Hu. He counted out one hundred Mid-grade Spirit Stones and pushed the glittering pile across the table.
“The Spirit Stones are yours. You pick the base of operations, and you vet the members,” Jiang Chen commanded, his tone brokering no argument. “I have only one absolute requirement: your team must hunt a monster over three hundred years old once a month, or secure a core monster part possessing any of the five elemental attributes.”The sheer density of spiritual energy radiating from the pile of Mid-grade Spirit Stones didn’t just captivate Zhang Laizi; it drew the ravenous stares of every Loose Cultivator in the vicinity. Eyes bulged, practically glued to the fortune on the table.
For the dregs of Green City—especially the Loose Cultivators scraping by in the market—laying eyes on ten Mid-grade Spirit Stones in a single year was a mark of immense wealth. The vast majority of them still dealt exclusively in chipped, Low-grade Spirit Stones.
Zhang Laizi’s chest heaved, her breath catching in her throat. “Are… are you serious?” she asked, needing to confirm she wasn’t hallucinating.
“Of course,” Jiang Chen replied, his voice cool and detached.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Zhang Laizi fought to steady her racing heart. The mountain of wealth before her was intoxicating. Finally, she gave a fierce, decisive nod. “I’ll do it.”
Chi Hu and his crew had evolved; it was time she did the same. To survive the meat grinder of Green City’s Loose Cultivator market—and to actually thrive—a cultivator had three choices: set up a stall, master a specialized trade, or bleed in a monster-hunting team.
Though merely a female Loose Cultivator, Zhang Laizi harbored a burning ambition. In the dead of night, she often fantasized about ascending to the ranks of the lofty Immortal Elders, basking in the reverence of the masses. Yet, she was painfully aware of her own mediocre aptitude and comprehension.
Now, a golden ticket had fallen right into her lap. Refusing was out of the question.
Jiang Chen stowed the Storage Bag and produced a blank spirit talisman. “Let’s sign a soul contract.”
He wasn’t running a charity. Handing over a hundred Mid-grade Spirit Stones without insurance was a fool’s errand. What if she just took the money and vanished?
To his mild surprise, Zhang Laizi signed the contract without a second thought.
The terms were straightforward: Jiang Chen would provide a minimum of one hundred Mid-grade Spirit Stones annually. In return, Zhang Laizi would establish a medium-to-large hunting company. Every month, they were obligated to hunt down a three-hundred-year-old monster or deliver a five-element core material.
The quota wasn’t impossibly difficult, but it was far from a walk in the park.
The penalty for breach of contract was a tenfold compensation—a staggering one thousand Mid-grade Spirit Stones. Zhang Laizi had actually tried to add a clause offering herself as a beast of burden should she fail, but Jiang Chen swiftly rejected it. He had no use for a useless servant; he wanted results.
Business concluded, he stood up and departed to find Shen Peng, leaving the logistical headaches entirely in Zhang Laizi’s hands.
Watching his retreating back, Zhang Laizi’s eyes hardened with resolve. *As long as I cling tightly to Senior Zhu’s thigh, my future is limitless.*
Her first move: recruit her former teammate, Wang Linxun, and then poach the best monster hunters in the market. If she was going to do this, she was going to build an empire.
***
Meanwhile, The Shen Clan estate was practically vibrating with the noise of a grand banquet.
The sheer scale and extravagance rivaled Shen Peng’s wedding. Representatives from the other four great families, the Golden Core Sen Clan, and even The Long Clan from Mystic Heart City had arrived to offer their congratulations.
Yet, the man Shen Peng desperately awaited was nowhere to be seen. The guest of honor had promised to attend, but his seat remained glaringly empty.
Resting in her bedchamber, Lei Yunna watched her husband pace a trench into the floorboards. She rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. “You weren’t even this frantic when I was pushing the baby out!”
Shen Peng halted, whirling around to defend himself. “What do you know? If our Xiang’er is blessed with a Spirit Root, there’s a chance she could be taken in as Fellow Daoist Han’s disciple! If he brings her into an immortal sect, her future will be ten thousand times brighter than rotting in this tiny Green City. Our own paths might be dead ends, but I won’t let my daughter settle for mediocrity!”
“Hmph!” Lei Yunna scowled, crossing her arms. “Fellow Daoist Han isn’t coming. It’s obvious he’s washed his hands of you and this entire family.”
Shen Peng’s face paled, his fists clenching at his sides. “It’s not Fellow Daoist Han’s fault. It’s ours. We got too greedy.”
Riding the coattails of the Spirit Rice and Spirit Wine Jiang Chen provided, The Shen Clan had skyrocketed to prominence in just a few short years. That rapid ascent had bloated their egos, convincing them they were ready to expand their territory. They had arrogantly assumed that partnering with The Long Clan of Mystic Heart City would drown them in profits.
Instead, the move had deeply alienated Jiang Chen, causing his visits to dry up completely. And no one could have predicted the catastrophic events that later engulfed Mystic Heart City.
“Young Master! Immortal Han has arrived!” a servant shouted from the hallway.
“Are you certain?!”
“Yes, Young Master!”
“Yunna, get up! Come with me to welcome him!”
“Are you out of your mind?! I just gave birth!”
“Then… then stay here and rest! I’ll bring Xiang’er to him!”
Without missing a beat, Shen Peng sprinted into the adjacent nursery.
At the estate’s entrance, Jiang Chen had already swapped his ‘Zhu Rong’ disguise for the unassuming visage of ‘Han Fei’. To the untrained eye, his aura and attire blended perfectly with the sea of ordinary Loose Cultivators—utterly unremarkable.
The Shen Clan, however, reacted as if a deity had descended.
Upon hearing the news, Patriarch Shen Rong unceremoniously abandoned his esteemed guests—and even his old flame from the Fragrance Pavilion—sprinting to the gates to personally escort Jiang Chen into the secluded back garden.
Moments later, Shen Peng came barreling into the garden, clutching his newborn daughter to his chest.
Jiang Chen couldn’t help but chuckle at the chaotic display. “Careful now, aren’t you afraid of startling the child?”
Shen Peng flashed a wide, breathless grin. “Fellow Daoist Han! It’s been far too long!”
“It’s barely been half a year,” Jiang Chen replied, waving a hand dismissively.
Shen Peng’s expression turned dead serious. “To me, a single day apart feels like three long years.”
Jiang Chen suppressed a shudder at the sheer, unadulterated sycophancy. Opting to ignore the flattery, he directed his gaze to the bundle in Shen Peng’s arms. “Have you settled on a name?”
The infant was snugly swaddled in fine silk. Her skin was a pristine, rosy white, smooth as warm jade. Her eyes were shut tight, her tiny eyelashes fluttering occasionally. Her delicate nose twitched with each shallow breath, and her pink lips smacked together in her sleep.
Shen Peng smiled warmly. “Her milk name is Xiang’er. But for her formal name… we were hoping you might bestow one upon her?”
The Shen family’s underlying motive was so painfully transparent it practically glowed. They wanted to forge an unbreakable karmic tie with him.
Jiang Chen’s internal profit-calculators immediately threw up red flags. He raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Should I leave?”
Shen Peng froze, a nervous, awkward laugh escaping his lips. “Ah, well, we did brainstorm a few options ourselves. Would you care to hear them?”
Jiang Chen tilted his chin up, his expression unreadable. “Let’s hear it.”
Clearing his throat, Shen Peng recited with profound reverence: “‘Shorn grass springs green anew, while fallen blooms retain their fragrance.’ Thus, her milk name is Xiang’er. And her formal name shall be…”