Chapter Thirty: The Honorarium—Sixteen Ingots of Gold, Selling Offices and Trading Titles

Wang Cheng watched as Pu Shouying walked away, silently sounding an alarm in his heart. This time, although he had uncovered the Pu clan’s hidden agenda in advance, he still lacked the power to change the course of events or turn the tide.

“The real problem is my lack of strength—my words carry no weight. If I expose him now, not only would he survive, I might even provoke him into desperate action. Now that the target is locked, the monk may flee, but the temple remains. After this disruption, they shouldn’t act rashly before they're absolutely sure. I need to grow stronger first, then find an opportunity to quietly warn Old Huang.”

Having experienced firsthand the swirling turmoil of Moon Harbor under the name “Wang Fugui,” Wang Cheng felt a sense of urgency pressing upon him like a rabid hound, never letting him rest.

“Brother Fugui, Brother Fugui...”

Wang Cheng came back to himself to find the chubby Huang Yuanzhou calling him. He quickly clasped his fists to keep up his persona. “Commander Mirage.”

Huang affectionately patted him on the shoulder. “Haha, no need to be so formal, Brother Fugui. I don’t know why, but seeing you makes me feel a sense of kinship, as if we’ve known each other for years. We’re all on the same side here. No need for titles in private—just call me Old Huang. For now, our Mutual Market faction doesn’t need you talisman bearers to charge into battle. Just learn well from Old Master Shen, and if you need help, come straight to me.”

He pulled a gold ingot from his grain pouch and forced it into Wang Cheng’s hand, winking. “Don’t refuse. When you get to Old Master Shen, you’ll know what this gold is for.”

Before Wang Cheng could decline, Huang, along with “River-Turning Rat” Han Zechang, went to take their leave of Master Shen. As they left, they casually tore down the wanted poster of Prince Jinghai’s heir from the wall, crumpled it, and tossed it into the sea.

Wang Cheng spoke to the Zhang brothers, telling them to return to the Zhang Fushun so they wouldn’t become targets for a sneak attack, then followed Zheng Qian and Master Shen into the city.

Zheng Qian, full of enthusiasm for his prospective junior, introduced him to the workings of the Moon Harbor Mountain and Sea Society as they walked. “Master usually doesn’t bother with mundane affairs, and this is the first time in years he’s personally recruited anyone. But as the Keeper of the Water-Gathering Rites, everything must proceed according to the rules. First, let’s establish your apprenticeship...”

Moon Harbor was the most important smuggling port within the Great Zhao’s domain and the mother port for most overseas smuggling ships. Naturally, the Mountain and Sea Society here was more than just Shen Yuting and Zheng Qian. Throughout the port, their industries were scattered—officials, managers, staff, and guards, all with their own duties.

As a new member, Wang Cheng kept his head down and observed protocol, silently following them to a pawnshop. The golden signboard read “Fenglin House” in bold, majestic calligraphy. On both sides was a couplet, vividly capturing the shop’s spirit:

“With what I have, I trade for what I lack; within the four seas, all things are found here.
Some say to take, some say to leave; for three years unchanged, not a single coin given to another.”

Pawnshops, or pledge houses, were places to exchange items, much like Wang Cheng’s “Universal Treasure of the Four Seas.” The phrase “with what I have, I trade for what I lack” revealed the essence of pawning—trading your surplus for your need, confident that the shop could provide any treasure found beneath the heavens. The second line spoke to their integrity.

Inside, the shopfront was modest, with a few tables and chairs in the corner, but the counter was as tall as a man—customers had to raise both arms to hand over goods. A wooden fence circled the counter for security.

When they entered, a customer was pawning a blue silk robe at the window.

“Brother Fugui, this Fenglin House is one of Master’s businesses. Officially, it’s under the Mountain and Sea Society, used for training our ‘Steward Lads.’ People say ‘Treasure Suppressors’ are never poor, but we ‘Steward Lads’ aren’t exactly paupers either!” Zheng Qian had barely finished speaking when a young man behind the counter called out, “Eaten by moths, chewed by ants, frayed seams, missing collar and sleeves—priced at one tael and two coins!”

The arrogant young man snatched the robe, handed over a pawn ticket and a small pouch of silver, and pocketed a nice profit. Such disparagement of pawned items was an unspoken rule—not only to lower the price, but also to avoid disputes when customers came to reclaim their goods. Even if the shop truly damaged the item, it was all there in black and white.

The customer, oblivious to the newcomers, left with slumped shoulders, clearly never expecting to redeem the robe.

The young man quickly noticed Shen Yuting and Zheng Qian and rushed out from behind the counter, beaming, “Master Shen, what brings you here?”

Behind him, other shop assistants emerged to greet the group.

Shen Yuting’s face showed none of the earlier affability. He nodded absently and introduced Wang Cheng, “This is Dou Yan, steward apprentice of Fenglin House, formerly of Minzhou Navy. Like you, he needs to borrow our Society’s talisman to enter the ranks.”

Wang Cheng nodded, understanding Dou Yan’s role. The divine official ranks were rooted in secular trades, only gaining supernatural efficacy through the “Twenty-Four Seasonal Rites” and the seventy-two calendrical omens. As the saying goes, every trade has its champion; to be granted a talisman and join the ranks in any profession, one must at least be competent, if not the best. Afterward, one still needed to perform duties within the trade, accumulating cultivation and merit for further advancement. Thus, spiritual cultivation depended on human society—those legendary hermits who retreated to the mountains and lived on dew would accomplish nothing.

Dou Yan was thus immersed in his work, a true steward in training. Judging by his earlier assessment, he had already mastered its nuances.

Zheng Qian explained further, “Brother Fugui, our Society is different from others. Apprentices and disciples come and go freely, and naturally, there are distinctions between high and low. The fees also differ. It all depends on what you want to be.”

“I’d like the details,” said Wang Cheng.

Zheng Qian held up a finger. “The law must not be transmitted lightly; passing on the law creates karmic ties. So we call it the ‘One-Scale Gold.’”

“One-Scale Gold?!” Wang Cheng’s mouth twitched. In the Great Zhao, one scale was thirty jin, each jin sixteen taels, making one scale of gold equal to 480 taels—sixteen gold ingots, or 3,840 taels of silver! He had heard of something similar before: the “One-Scale Gold” method in the famed Daoist alchemical sects, also called the “Sixteen-Ingot Method,” named for its sixteen-character secret. Each character was worth an ingot. He didn’t know that secret phrase, but he understood what “One-Scale Gold” meant.

As expected, Zheng Qian continued, “Any talisman-bearer who pays an ingot of gold can enter as a student—about the same as the entrance fee for the Imperial Academy in the capital.”

“After that, you can apprentice in any of our industries—three years at a time. Whenever someone chooses you as a disciple, you’ll have made it.”

Wang Cheng fingered the gold ingot Old Huang had given him and quickly shook his head. “No, not that. Waste of time.”

Zheng Qian wasn’t surprised and continued, “With two ingots, you’re still an apprentice, but within three years, you’re guaranteed to be chosen and provided a talisman.”

He paused, thinking that, with the money from the Mirage Commander, Wang Cheng might have another ingot at best.

Wang Cheng shook his head again. “Three years is too long. Time is of the essence—not that, either.”

Zheng Qian pressed on, “With four ingots, you’re an outer disciple, apprenticed directly to a manager. No chores, just cultivation. When you’re ready, you’ll be granted a talisman.”

Wang Cheng glanced at the composed Shen Yuting sitting on a chair and still declined, “Outer disciple? Manager’s pupil? The managers here are just ordinary officials, aren’t they? No.”

Shen Yuting and Zheng Qian didn’t comment. But Dou Yan, standing nearby, couldn’t help but sneer inwardly when even four ingots didn’t faze this newcomer: ‘A penniless scholar with quite the arrogance. Ordinary folk couldn’t save up one ingot in ten years of fasting and scraping. I come from a navy officer’s family, and because I’m illegitimate and can’t inherit a post or title, I scraped together four ingots just to secure a future after the family split. And this guy in his tattered clothes dares look down on us outer disciples?’

Of course, there aren’t that many fools in the world—especially among officialdom's sons, who are experts at reading the room. This young man might look poor, but since Master Shen brought him in personally, who would be so stupid as to provoke him? Thinking it is one thing; saying it aloud is quite another.

At this point, Zheng Qian decided to lay out the full price list: “Eight ingots make you a true disciple, officially one of our own. After you’ve learned your skill, we can place you in a port anywhere across the realm or the seas, or even recommend you directly to the Imperial Navy.

“With sixteen ingots—one full scale of gold—you can choose any official in the Society to be your master. And that’s not all. Our Steward lineage can sell anything. We even sell official posts!

“If someone is too dull or lazy to learn, it doesn’t matter—we can sell them a rank outright! High officials love to sign their children up for this, and though there are a few minor flaws, it’s always in high demand. If you’re bold enough, you can even hold multiple posts and master other maritime offices as well—absolutely not a fantasy, so long as...”

Wang Cheng finished the sentence for him, “You have the money!”

Shen Yuting and Zheng Qian both burst out laughing. “A promising youth, indeed!”