The Martial Saint Started from Scavenging

He put down the jade pendant and the coarse cloth, stretched out two fingers, picked up the stone, brought it close to the mask, and examined it carefully.

Then, he placed the stone under his nose and sniffed it very lightly.

Then, the stall owner pulled something out of his sleeve. It was a monocle crystal lens with a thin copper frame around its edge.

He used his finger to hold the lens in front of his right eye socket, and examined it carefully again against the stone.

He examined it extremely slowly this time, moving it inch by inch, paying particular attention to the naturally formed, blurry textures on the stone.

Ye Sheng held his breath, leaned slightly forward, and placed his right hand lightly on the position of the wood-chopping knife at his waist.

Because he could sense that the stall owner's aura had changed.

That original laziness, casualness, and even a bit of impatience disappeared.

Instead, there was a focused investigation, and his eyes held a different look, a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

After a while, the stall owner put down the stone, took off the lens, and carefully put it back into his sleeve.

He looked at Ye Sheng and remained silent for a few moments.

Deep within the cave, the noise seemed to fade away, and this dimly lit corner fell into an eerie silence.

"Hey kid," the stall owner finally spoke, "where did you get this?"

"I found it."

Ye Sheng answered crisply and decisively.

"Found it?" the stall owner repeated, his voice devoid of emotion. "Where did you find it?"

"By the river," Ye Sheng mumbled, adding, "downstream of the Duanlong River, in a rocky wasteland."

The stall owner remained silent for a moment, then tapped his fingers lightly on his knee.

"Good luck," he finally said, tapping his finger lightly on the stone. "I'll take this."

Ye Sheng felt a sense of relief, followed by a renewed tension. He was relieved that the other party recognized the value of the item and was willing to buy it; he was tense about how to negotiate the price next.

"How much?"

Ye Sheng asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

The stall owner held up one finger: "One hundred coins."

Ye Sheng's heart skipped a beat.

One hundred coins? That's lower than he expected.

He originally thought that even if the spiritual essence of this gray stone was exhausted, it should still be worth several hundred coins.

But upon closer reflection, the price seems reasonable. For cultivators, items whose spiritual energy has been depleted are indeed scraps, worthless.

But for people with special needs, it might still fetch a good price.

One hundred coins is indeed a bit too little.

He needed to donate 500 coins to the boatmen's guild. If he only sold it for 100 coins, after deducting Master Liu's cut and his own capital, he would only get about 60 coins. Even with his own savings, he would still be far from 500 coins.

"Too few."

Ye Sheng shook his head and reached out to take the stone back. He moved slowly but without hesitation.

"This stone may look unremarkable, but it feels cool to the touch; even in the sweltering summer, it's icy to the touch. If you throw it into a water jug ​​in the summer, the water will cool down in half an hour. It's definitely not an ordinary thing."

Ye Sheng was rambling on, gambling. He was gambling that since the stall owner had figured out the trick, he wouldn't let it go easily. He was gambling that the other party needed the item, or at least thought he could make a profit by reselling it.

Sure enough, the stall owner placed his hand on the stone first.

"Kid, don't be greedy." The stall owner's voice turned cold, and his eyes sharpened. "Your stuff does have some merit, but that's all. Do you even know what it is?"

Ye Sheng remained unfazed and replied, "This contains spiritual energy; it's definitely a valuable treasure."

"Oh ho! You know about spiritual essence? You just said it was a valuable treasure? I think you're overthinking it. This is called a 'spirit stone fragment'," the stall owner said casually, seemingly not minding saying a few more words.

"Moreover, it's the kind that's completely depleted of its spiritual energy and utterly useless. The spiritual energy of heaven and earth contained within it has long since dissipated, and the remaining coolness is just a residual characteristic of the stone itself, similar to ordinary jade. For cultivators who need spiritual energy for cultivation, it's just a useless stone, a scrap that's not even worth using to prop up a table corner."

Spirit Stone Fragments!

Ye Sheng was deeply shocked. Although the spiritual energy attached to it was almost "exhausted," it was indeed something used by the legendary immortals!

In the few old books left by my father, there are occasional mentions of "spirit stones," but they are vague, only saying that they are treasures for cultivators, containing the essence of heaven and earth.

"If it's scrap, why did you take it?" Ye Sheng retorted, not giving an inch. His hand remained pressed on the other side of the stone, refusing to let go.

The stall owner smiled, the laughter coming through the mask, somewhat muffled and somewhat grating.

"Because of its unique texture."

The stall owner pointed with his fingertip to the naturally formed, blurry textures on the surface of the stone.

Ye Sheng moved closer and saw that the patterns were not chaotic, but rather vaguely outlined a pattern similar to the seal script character "山" (mountain), only it was extremely abstract and could not be noticed without careful observation.

"The pattern resembles the ancient Chinese character for 'mountain.' Some pretentious or novice cultivators who have just entered the realm of cultivation like to collect these kinds of things. If I take them back, I'll have to go through the trouble of finding these kinds of buyers and earn a meager living."

His words were half true and half false.

Ye Sheng understood. This stone indeed had little value for cultivation, but it was definitely worth more than a hundred coins. The stall owner was trying to bargain down the price and get a bargain.

Whether the "mountain" pattern is real or fake, or whether anyone is actually willing to pay for it, is not important. What matters is that the other party genuinely wants this stone.

"One hundred and eighty coins," Ye Sheng quoted. This was a price he had quickly calculated in his mind just now.

If it sells for 180 coins, after deducting Master Liu's cost and commission, plus my own savings, I can scrape together 120 coins.

Although it's still far from the 500-dollar donation, at least with this money, the chances of getting the money back when Master Liu takes him to talk to the boatmen about "listing the sign first and paying later" will be much better.

"One hundred and eighty coins?"

The stall owner, as if he'd heard a joke, raised his voice slightly, "Are you out of your mind? This worthless stone, 180 coins, that's enough to feed you for two months!"

"One hundred and eighty, not a penny less."

Ye Sheng placed his hand on the stone, his eyes fixed on the stall owner through the mask.

His body tensed slightly, like a drawn bow. "If I can't sell it for that price, I'll smash it, just to hear the noise and have some fun."

As he spoke, Ye Sheng reached up with his other hand, as if to smash the stone against the rock wall beside him. The movement was small, but the fierceness in it was palpable.

"Hey, hey, stop!"

The stall owner hadn't expected this kid to be so reckless and clueless. He quickly reached out and grabbed Ye Sheng's wrist. The grip was incredibly strong, like an iron clamp, making Ye Sheng's wrist bones ache.

"Fine, fine, you're ruthless."

The stall owner released his grip, his tone a mix of helplessness and amusement, "One hundred and fifty, that's the most I can offer. I'm already selling at a loss."

"One hundred and eighty." Ye Sheng didn't budge. His wrist was still hurting, but he didn't rub it. His eyes were even colder.

The two remained locked in a stalemate. The stall owner narrowed his eyes behind his mask, scrutinizing Ye Sheng closely.

Ye Sheng did not back down either, meeting his gaze. Although his heart was pounding like a drum, his hand holding the stone was as steady as a rock.

At this moment, people around began to notice the commotion, and several masked heads turned around.

The stall owner, seemingly wanting to avoid attention, waved his hand impatiently, his other hand already inside his pocket: "Alright, alright, one hundred and eighty it is. You're a poor wretch, so consider it an act of kindness from me today."

As he spoke, he pulled out a string of copper coins from his pocket, didn't even count them, and directly broke the rope, throwing a large handful of copper coins onto the black cloth.

"Count it yourself. There are 180 coins here, no more, no less."

Ye Sheng then loosened his grip on the stone, letting the stall owner take it, and then squatted down to count the copper coins one by one.

He moved slowly but carefully, weighing each one in his hand and examining the writing and patterns on it under a dim light.

This was a habit he developed from scavenging, and also an instinct for migrant workers to survive—to protect against counterfeit money and missing pieces of currency.

I counted it twice, and it came to exactly one hundred and eighty coins. The quality was all decent; there were no adulterated coins.

Thanks.

Ye Sheng strung the copper coins together with a piece of hemp rope, stuffed them into the inner pocket of his clothes, and pressed them tightly against his chest.

He immediately turned and left without giving the stall owner another glance.

"Wait a minute."

The stall owner suddenly called out to him again.

Ye Sheng's muscles tensed instantly, and his right hand instinctively reached for the wood-chopping knife. He turned halfway around, his eyes warily fixed on the other person.

The stall owner didn't move, but instead took out a brass plaque from his other sleeve and casually tossed it over. Ye Sheng caught it instinctively.

The brand felt warm and heavy to the touch, unlike ordinary brass.

The plaque is round with smooth edges. The front is engraved with an archaic "ghost" character with sharp strokes. The back features a complex cloud pattern with a tiny symbol embedded in the center, which is not clearly visible.

"This is?"

Ye Sheng was puzzled and did not put it away immediately.

"Ghost Market Bronze Medal"