A flash of triumph crossed the Grand Elder’s eyes. “Everyone in Western Song knows this,” he declaimed, voice loud enough to carry. “Apart from Old Tan, the Alchemy Guild produces the finest pills in the whole country. Now that Dark Night Pavilion has started selling medicines, it’s effectively challenging us. The Guild has a duty to protect the public. If those pills are substandard, shops like this have no right to exist.”
Feng Yuqin’s mouth quirked with a bitter, sardonic smile at the Grand Elder’s sanctimonious excuse.
She didn’t interrupt. She let him keep talking.
“To prove the matter — and for the safety of everyone here — I will challenge Pavilion Lord Qin to an alchemical duel,” the Grand Elder continued, greed and self-righteousness mixing in his tone. “If Pavilion Lord Qin loses, Dark Night Pavilion will be shut down immediately, and everything inside will be forfeited to the Guild as stakes. Pavilion Lord Qin herself will be folded into our Guild’s service for fifty years.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
They all felt sorry for Feng Yuqin. Fifty years of servitude — it was no less than selling one’s life away. No one expected her to win. How could someone so young possibly match the skill of a Grand Elder who’d been at the level-three rank for decades?
Meng Xingyu snorted. “Shameless old bastard. He actually said it.”
“Good,” Yan Geng said coldly. “The Grand Elder dares bully my cousin — I’ll remember him.”
Yan Xiao didn’t speak, but his stare was ice; it fixed on the Grand Elder like a blade.
The people from Dark Night Pavilion were angry too. They never expected the Grand Elder to be so brazen. Yes, their master was only a level three alchemist as well, but he’d been at that rank for years; experience could tip the scales. If their master lost—
They glanced anxiously at Feng Yuqin.
Seeing no fear in her, they forced themselves to believe she could beat this old man.
Feng Yuqin gave the Grand Elder a cool look. “You want the Guild, do you?”
The Grand Elder blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You want my Dark Night Pavilion,” she said, voice calm. “If so, do I get the Alchemy Guild in return?”
Zhao Lao, standing nearby, explained, “What she means is: you want her pavilion, but does she get the Guild in return?”
“Big words,” the Grand Elder scoffed. “Ten Dark Night Pavilions wouldn’t equal the Alchemy Guild, so I’ll never put the Guild up as a wager.”
“Then the contest is pointless,” Feng Yuqin said lightly. “You want my pavilion and fifty years of me as a slave, but you won’t give me the Guild. Besides…” She cast the Grand Elder an appraising glance and sneered, “you’re too old. Dark Night Pavilion doesn’t keep dead weight.”
Someone couldn’t hold back a laugh.
Meng Xingyu and the Yan brothers laughed openly.
“The poor Grand Elder — even got rejected,” Dongfang Zhi said with mock sympathy.
“How long has he got left to live, anyway?” Meng added with a grin.
The Grand Elder’s face grew dark. He glared at Dongfang Zhi and Meng Xingyu. He couldn’t do anything to Dongfang Zhi, so he turned to Meng Xiucheng instead. “Is this how the Meng family teaches its children?”
Meng Xiucheng’s reply was icier than the stare. “Our family taught us not to come and ruin another’s opening.”
“And you still got insulted,” Meng Xingyu kept goading, reckless.
The Grand Elder’s gaze turned murderous for a moment. The father and son met his stare without flinching.
“Come on then, let’s see who’s afraid,” Meng Xingyu’s eyes dared him.
Feng Yuqin’s voice cut through. “Grand Elder — if you’re not going to put up stakes, then leave. People who come to wreck a shop and can’t even produce the chips don’t deserve to be in my Dark Night Pavilion.”
“You’re courting death,” the Grand Elder snapped.
“You’re the one looking for it.” Her tone dropped colder. A dangerous aura radiated off her like frost. “If you can produce stakes, I will duel you. If you can’t, then get out.”
The Grand Elder’s face darkened further. Someone tugged at his sleeve to cool him; he swallowed his anger and produced a storage pouch. “Here are my bets. You can inspect them.”
Feng Yuqin took the pouch, glanced inside, and made a face. “Grand Elder, are you trying to bribe us with charity?”
The Grand Elder’s face went red with rage. He pulled out another pouch.
Feng Yuqin still frowned. “If that’s your wager, then you really should just leave. Dark Night Pavilion has customers to serve; we don’t have time to play your games.”
He gritted his teeth and finally produced two top-grade storage pouches. “This is all I have left. If you’re not satisfied now, I’ll assume you’re afraid to face me.”
Feng Yuqin’s voice was level. “I said: if the stakes are enough, I’ll duel. If not, I won’t waste my time.”
She took the pouches and peered in at their contents with undisguised scorn. “If you’d shown these two top-grade pouches earlier, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
She couldn’t help a thought then: the Grand Elder must keep a lot of the country’s valuables in these pouches. There was more wealth here than she’d imagined.
“Are you ready now?” the Grand Elder asked coldly.
“You win, Dark Night Pavilion becomes yours. I sell myself to the Alchemy Guild for fifty years,” Feng Yuqin said evenly. “If I win, those storage pouches belong to me. And you will make a public announcement that the Grand Elder of the Alchemy Guild is inferior to the head of Dark Night Pavilion.”
The Grand Elder’s laugh was sharp. “Four pouches, and countless treasures within. You’re greedy, asking for all of them. You won’t be able to finish them.”
“You needn’t worry about that,” she smiled. “If I can’t finish them alone, there’s Zhao Lao and the others, aren’t there?”
The Grand Elder shot a look at Zhao Lao and his group. “So you intend to go against the Alchemy Guild?”
Zhao Lao shook his head. “Precisely put, we stand with Pavilion Lord Qin. Anyone who opposes her becomes our enemy.”
Meng Xiucheng nodded. “Zhao Lao is right. We back Pavilion Lord Qin.”
Dongfang Zhi flashed his roguish smile. “Me too.”
The Grand Elder’s expression shifted. “Lord Dongfang has never meddled in worldly affairs before,” he said, puzzled.
“What can I say — there’s a first time for everything,” Dongfang Zhi said lightly.
The Grand Elder began to doubt whether he should have investigated Dark Night Pavilion’s background before coming. But he had come; negotiations had started. He couldn’t just slink away.
He turned his gaze to Feng Yuqin. “What level alchemist are you?”
Feng Yuqin arched a brow. “You want to challenge me and you didn’t even check my rank?”
“I saw the highest-ranked alchemist at your shop is level three, but you’re so young I counted you as a level two at most. And I won’t accept any of your shop’s level-threes to fight me — today I’m challenging the pavilion’s head.” The Grand Elder answered, as though scoring points.
“What a nerve,” Meng Xingyu sneered. “A man who’s obviously level three, daring to provoke such a young Pavilion Lord.”