Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Alchemist

Luman’s lips trembled as she asked, “So, altogether, how much would it cost?”

“Just add up the prices yourself,” Qin Jing replied. “And remember, I only accept old bills or gold. A small gold bar can exchange for ten thousand’s worth of goods.”

Qin Jing hadn’t bothered calculating how much these things were worth himself, since most of the items he’d put out were things he believed couldn’t be sold in the mythic world. For example, the Transformer figurine—a nerd from some school had reluctantly sold it, muttering to the toy as if whispering to a girlfriend. There were no Transformers in the mythic world, so naturally, it couldn’t fetch a price there.

With a bitter smile, Luman picked up each item and began jotting down the prices. There were twelve pieces of secondhand goods, but all were marked at their market price. After careful calculation, she was shocked to find the total amounted to 536,000! Multiply that by ten, and it soared to over five million!

“Mr. Qin, I can’t possibly come up with that much money,” she said.

Extraordinaries had little need for money—most of their pursuits had shifted to greater power, and the rare spiritual items they coveted couldn’t be bought with cash. Ordinary money sufficed only for daily needs, which hardly cost much at all.

So to suddenly demand five million from Luman—it was simply impossible for her to produce it.

Hearing this, Qin Jing’s expression soured. “Miss Lu, I’m being very fair here. I haven’t asked for any of your extraordinary treasures, just doing a bit of small business. If you really can’t pay, then just stay here. I suppose the Shadow Society has deeper pockets.”

Luman’s face turned ashen at this. Could tonight’s events really be reported to the Society? Both she and Tang Peng were, after all, third-tier extraordinaries—core members in the organization. If word of this got out, where would they put their dignity?

“Would you be willing to relax Tang Peng’s restrictions a little? He has some money on hand. If we pool our resources, we might have enough.”

Tang Peng nearly burst into tears. At last, they remembered him.

Alchemical Puppet No. 1 still held him captive, its formidable presence pressing down so hard his very muscles felt frozen. Tang Peng had been utterly hopeless—falling into the hands of a hostile extraordinary usually meant a dire fate. But then Qin Jing laid out his conditions, and a spark of hope flared within him.

Knowledge of the extraordinary world: ordinary money is useless, and the treasures of the extraordinary can’t be purchased with it. Since Qin Jing wanted money, that was manageable.

The next moment, Tang Peng felt the oppressive force around him loosen. Not entirely gone, but at least he could breathe and speak.

“My god, Mr. Qin… if we’d known you were a powerful alchemist, we never would have dared provoke you. You’d be an honored guest of the Shadow Society. Please believe me, we were in the wrong this time, and we’re willing to make amends. We’ll buy all these things, no bargaining. Just give me a moment to make a call—my people will bring the money at once.”

Tang Peng had become completely docile. He now believed Qin Jing himself was an alchemist—otherwise, how could he command these alchemical puppets? Such strength surely meant at least a fourth-tier extraordinary.

He couldn’t have known that the alchemical puppets Jane sold to Qin Jing were actually living puppets, naturally endowed with awareness and thus not bound to any master. Even though Qin Jing later had their consciousness stripped away, the puppets were still advanced enough to recognize his authority as long as he controlled the alchemical core. No other conditions were necessary.

Seeing they’d mistaken him for an alchemist, Qin Jing didn’t correct them. He found this a delightful misunderstanding. In the Western cultivation system, the alchemist was the profession most akin to his current situation—personally weak, yet able to craft high-level alchemical puppets and endlessly peddle potions and magical stones.

Even better, alchemists were not to be trifled with. From what Qin Jing knew, alchemists practiced a forbidden art: they could hide an alchemical rune within themselves and cultivate it constantly. This was their trump card—for, when cornered, they could self-detonate the rune, unleashing a catastrophic reaction with the world's spiritual energy, like a nuclear explosion, obliterating both themselves and their enemies.

Wealthy, with a deadly last resort—truly the perfect cover.

With Tang Peng’s promise, Qin Jing casually gestured, and Alchemical Puppets No. 1 and No. 3 returned to his side. At the same time, the surroundings shifted in a strange, shimmering illusion; in the blink of an eye, Tang Peng and Luman found themselves back in Qin Jing’s small shop. In fact, they’d only just stepped through the door, as if they’d never moved at all.

“Mr. Qin’s methods are truly astounding,” Luman sighed, then glanced at Tang Peng. She didn’t dare harbor any more hostility—she knew full well their combined assets fell far short of five million. At best, they had one or two million between them.

Gritting his teeth, Tang Peng tried to reassure his girlfriend. “Don’t worry, even if we don’t have enough, we can borrow it. That Wan Anxian from Lenghai, the former richest man in the city—he’s been currying favor with our society for a long time. The Society is planning to set up a branch and he’s promised support. Now is the time for him to deliver…”

Qin Jing, standing nearby, overheard this and frowned. No wonder extraordinaries cared so little for money—with fat sheep like Wan Anxian lining up to be fleeced, how could they value cash?

Did that mean his punishment was too lenient?

Still, Qin Jing prided himself on keeping his word. What he’d promised, he would not renege on. Besides, his true aim wasn’t the money but the g-points generated in the transaction. Five million meant 500g, which was still a handsome sum for him.

In fact, it would be even better if these two failed to learn their lesson and came back for a second round—that would be like casting a long line for a big catch.

With that, Qin Jing spoke mildly: “However you plan to get the money, don’t do it in front of me. I don’t care to know, and don’t sully my shop.”

In other words, raise the funds however you like, just don’t bring the bad reputation to my doorstep.

Tang Peng hastily promised there’d be no trouble. He explained that Wan Anxian was willingly donating to the Shadow Society, and that they’d simply be diverting some society funds. If any problems arose, they’d take the fall.

Once the plan was set, Tang Peng went outside to make his call. Even from afar, Qin Jing could tell that the meek Tang Peng turned arrogant on the phone, demanding five million be delivered immediately, as if others should beg him for the honor of handing over money.

This attitude, this way of doing things, gave Qin Jing a deeper understanding of what it meant to be an extraordinary.