Chapter Thirty-Seven: Forbidden Rules—Words Carry Weight, Promises Are Singular

Han Shushu was not familiar with this “Senior Brother Wang” before her, nor had she witnessed his skills firsthand.

But with Shen Yuting, the Hall Official, vouching for him, she had no worries about being deceived. After only a brief hesitation, she placed complete trust in him:

“I trust Elder Shen. This journey will include Senior Brother Wang, who will handle the compass and serve as navigator and chief fireman.

However, Senior Brother Wang, for the sake of safety, all information must remain confidential before we set out.

Moreover, adventure at sea is unlike any other; the ship is the fundamental unit of operation.

When the time comes, you may bring a ship of your own, but you’ll be responsible for your crew, supplies, casualties, and losses. My sole duty is to pay.”

Wang Cheng liked this kind of employer—one who only paid and didn’t meddle. He agreed without hesitation:

“No need to worry, junior sister, I understand what’s important.”

Yet as he bid farewell, watching the young woman leave alone, her slender figure receding, he couldn’t help but ponder.

Though this worked to his advantage, it was astonishing that someone would so readily trust a stranger just on her master’s recommendation.

His own father, the most skilled water collector, had a traitor by his side without ever knowing; what gave this seemingly easy-to-bully girl such confidence?

Wang Cheng himself wouldn’t dare place absolute trust in himself.

He’d never intentionally do harm, but who could say if, when danger suddenly struck, he wouldn’t instinctively shield his junior sister?

Shen Yuting noticed his disciple’s doubt, dismissed the pawnshop clerks, turned back, and patted Wang Cheng’s shoulder, smiling mysteriously:

“Does it seem odd? Do you think Shushu is too innocent and inexperienced?

Let me ask you—do you know why among the thirty-six offices in the Water Division, it’s the Cashier’s profession that produces the most Hall Officials?”

Without waiting for Wang Cheng to answer, he continued:

“Because we Cashiers don’t seek the word ‘wealth’, but the word ‘trust’.

All transactions are founded on honesty!

To us Cashiers, ‘trust’ is weightier than life.

Twenty years ago, the Four Constant Silver Bank in Minzhou suffered heavy losses in a maritime disaster after investing in sea trade and had to close down. Yet the owner still rented a storefront to honor promissory notes, reclaimed the bank’s own silver notes, and returned the silver to customers, persisting for over a decade until every note was redeemed.

Away from home, our Cashiers’ golden reputation allows us to borrow a hundred taels from any bank, and to this day, we’ve never once defaulted!”

Wang Cheng, comparing this to the collapse of ritual and music in another world, felt awe.

He finally understood why his master was so highly respected.

A “senior” with great skill is nothing special, but one who combines skill with principle is the dream figure for all “insignificant folk”.

Wang Cheng had studied the story of Meng Mu’s three moves in the Confucian classics, and from childhood had heard adults say, “You become who you follow”—“Dance with the shaman, learn the shaman’s ways”, “Follow the goblins, become one yourself”.

The power of example is limitless.

His master, Shen Yuting, was clearly the sort who, once he declared, “My broadsword spares the old and young,” would never break his word—he’d simply switch to a smaller knife!

If his father, the King of the Sea, were here, that alone would bring him great comfort; his son truly had found a worthy master.

But admiration aside, Wang Cheng still had questions:

“But Master, one grain of rice nurtures a hundred kinds of people. Morality can only restrain oneself; how could it bind others?

No matter how noble the group, there will always be villains.”

Shen Yuting was pleased to hear his disciple speak so insightfully. With a kindly face, he patiently explained:

“Fourth child, when moral restraint fails, we must reason with them and convince by logic.

I believe if our argument is strong enough, we can reform…”

Here, to strengthen his point, he waved his fist emphatically.

Clang!

From his sleeve fell a rigid Dragon Mace, as thick as a baby’s forearm.

As he bent to pick it up, a series of crisp sounds followed: a short-barreled firearm, a gleaming wolf-tooth club, and several thunderbolts wrapped in talisman paper tumbled out.

Wang Cheng was stunned:

“Sleeve of mysteries? A mobile armory?

So this is your ‘strong logic’? Reform, you say? Very well…”

With a thud, he knelt, hugged his master’s leg, grabbed onto the sleeve that concealed so many treasures, and pleaded shamelessly:

“Master, I want to learn this!”

He knew that someone of his master’s ability wouldn’t be so careless; it must mean he’d finally won his master’s approval, and now would be taught some real skills.

Shen Yuting gathered up the scattered “arguments”, his expression turning serious:

“Fourth child, today I’ll teach you the first taboo of the Cashier’s trade.

Only when consequences exist do rules mean anything!

For Cashiers and Hall Officials, the duties of witness and supervisor outweigh those of merchant.

Heavy in word, single-hearted in promise, carrying pledges and keeping oaths, guaranteeing all transactions.

With the golden blade used by the founding emperor to establish the Golden Blade Prophecy as proof—oath sealed with blade, oath broken with blade revealed—even if the oath-breaker flees beyond the realm of Shenzhou, he must be brought back for punishment!”

Wang Cheng’s heart surged.

He understood at last: the Cashier’s main role was not business, but market supervision and customs enforcement!

“I will certainly become a disciple under Master’s Hall!”

After the three enjoyed a warm dinner together, Shen Yuting handed Wang Cheng a secret Taoist text called “The Treasure Record of the Toad Palace” and told him to start with the basics.

This book, like the Water King family’s “Proper Guide to Favorable Winds”, was a treasured record of an official lineage.

Of course, it wasn’t the complete text—only a portion suitable for a student’s eyes.

Behind Phoenix Qilin Hall was a sizable residence; Wang Cheng chose a small courtyard with a large osmanthus tree and settled there.

No sooner had he made himself comfortable than he dismissed the attendants, quickly bathed, and eagerly opened “The Treasure Record of the Toad Palace”.

The beginning recounted what his master had already explained—the origin of divine cultivation, and the hardships of the Water Division’s lineage, encouraging future generations to persevere.

But the first chapter was not some special skill or secret art—only a brief dialogue, question and answer.

Wang Cheng glanced at his master’s red commentary, realizing this exchange revealed the essence of divine cultivation.

He instinctively held his breath, reading on—the words were simple and direct, understandable even to a child.

Question: “Since ghosts, gods, and earth spirits truly exist in this world, what would happen if I built a temple and worshipped myself?”

Answer: “You have always worshipped your own flesh and spirit.

Every day you pamper yourself with good food and drink, keep yourself clean, dress beautifully.

Your thoughts focus on enlarging this temple that houses your flesh, making it more comfortable, demanding more respect from others, more offerings.

You strive for greater happiness.

You seek more power, more wealth, more beauties—ideally, to be worshipped by the whole world.

Out in public, you’re admired by all; at home, surrounded by beauties. Such devotion—who can rival it?

Yet, have you ever sought from yourself?

Have you ever achieved a single thing?

In divine cultivation, seeking gods is inferior to seeking oneself!”