Gao Jin

But where to get money—that was the question.

Chuliang sighed.

There was no hope in going back to ask Yun Zhao for help; that clever fellow even borrowed money for clothes from Chuliang himself.

To be fair, if the information Lady Gu gave was genuine, then gold and silver wouldn’t be hard to obtain. For those underground, unconventional cultivators, making money was the simplest thing in the world.

The most direct way? Robbery.

A subtler approach? Swindling, cheating, trickery, or theft.

Take, for example, the sort of crime the Yu Dynasty had been cracking down on for years—a cultivator would release their pet demon into a wealthy home to wreak havoc, then arrive to offer their services in exorcising it, earning both fame and fortune.

There were countless avenues.

If not for the recent city lockdown and the strict official scrutiny, Lady Gu probably wouldn’t even need to seek outside help for such a trivial matter.

But what was easy for those unconventional cultivators, Chuliang could not do.

Even if he were to commit a crime, he’d have to target those who were evil themselves. Yet in such a vast city as Kaoshan, where could one find a wealthy villain?

He felt the plump little beetle in his pocket, sensing its mouth gnawing constantly at his finger—it was probably hungry.

Chuliang’s gaze wandered the street as he pondered, and suddenly, a spark flashed in his eyes as if he’d thought of something.

He looked around and, among the passersby, chose the biggest fellow who looked least like a good person, approaching him with a question, “Excuse me, could you tell me where the largest gambling house in Kaoshan City is?”

“Gambling house?” The burly man sized him up. Chuliang had already shed his black robe, appearing only as a handsome youth in fine clothes. The man asked, “You want to gamble?”

Chuliang blinked. “I... just want to see what it's like.”

The burly man chuckled, “Well, I was thinking of playing a few rounds myself. I'll take you there. You look like a rich young master from a good family.”

“Not really, not really…” Chuliang gripped his pocket tightly and smiled.

The burly man led him through winding alleys, and soon they arrived at a small storefront, its entrance covered with two cloth curtains bearing a modest character for ‘gamble’.

Two guards stood at the door; seeing the burly man, they seemed to recognize him and nodded, letting him pass without question.

The burly man took Chuliang inside, and sure enough, it was a hidden world. Behind the modest facade lay a large casino, bustling with people—possibly eight hundred or a thousand gathered here, faces flushed, wholly absorbed at the various tables, as if cut off from the outside world.

“Brother, what do you want to play?” the burly man asked warmly.

“I... I’ll look around.” Chuliang feigned timidity, scanning the tables, then walking past, frowning and murmuring, “I don’t know how to play any of these…”

“What do you know then?” the burly man asked.

“I know... how to play mahjong.” Chuliang replied, “Played with family elders during New Year a few times.”

“Heh, all right. There’s a mahjong room here too. But... if you play small stakes, nobody will join you. You need enough money to play.” said the burly man.

“I... I don’t have much cash, but I do have this. Not sure if it’s enough.” Chuliang seemed nervous, revealing a gold brick from his sleeve for the burly man to glimpse.

“Whoa—” the burly man’s eyes nearly popped out, then he grinned widely, “I’ve run into a god of wealth today! All right, I’ll go ask for you.”

He led Chuliang upstairs to a private room, found a middle-aged man in the casino, said something to him, then beckoned to Chuliang, “Brother, go on in, have fun.”

Chuliang nodded sincerely to the burly man, “Thank you.”

The middle-aged man led Chuliang into the private room, where a mahjong table was already in play. Clearly, they’d been notified in advance—one man stood up and gave his seat to Chuliang.

“This young master is here for the first time, please take good care of him,” the middle-aged man patted Chuliang’s shoulder, smiled at those at the table, and left.

Outside, the burly man waited, grinning obsequiously, “Well? Ninth Master, whatever we strip off him, I should get a cut, right?”

“You wish,” the middle-aged man glared. “If you want a share, pay off your gambling debts first.”

“Yes, yes, but today that gold brick should cover my debts! It wasn’t easy finding such a fat sheep—I put in a lot of effort getting him here!”

“All right, I’ll give you credit for this,” the middle-aged man smiled.

...

“Eh? Did I win?”

In the private room, Chuliang pushed his tiles forward in surprise.

“Yes, yes,” the thin man opposite nodded repeatedly, smiling, “You have good luck, young master, winning big on your first hand.”

Beside him, a tattooed, bare-chested man laughed, “Beginner’s luck. You should play more rounds while the luck lasts, right?”

“Absolutely!” An old woman at the table grinned like a blooming chrysanthemum.

“You’re all so kind…” Chuliang collected his winnings, tucking the silver into a sash provided by the casino, smiling, “I win, and you’re still happy for me.”

“Oh, we’re all like this here. The bigger someone wins, the happier we are,” said the thin man.

“Really? That’s wonderful—I’ll make sure to come often. Looks like my luck is really good today. But you won’t just leave if I win too much, will you?”

“Don’t worry, little brother.” The bare-chested man pointed to a big chest behind him, “We’ve all pledged our money here. Win as much as you want; you’ll have a good time.”

“That’s great.” Chuliang’s eyes suddenly lit up, “Hey, did I win again?”

“Hmm?” “Hmm?” “Hmm?”

The three at the table sensed something was off—this was just the first round, what was he doing?

Could mahjong have a springtime?

“Beginner’s luck is really something, ha ha,” Chuliang showed an innocent, warm smile.

Then: arrange tiles, draw, play, push.

The smiles of the three slowly froze.

Chuliang remained naïve, “Wow, the feng shui here is incredible…”

“...”

After several rounds, the thin man was the first to make an excuse, claiming urgent need to pee and slipping out.

Outside, the middle-aged man stood with a dark expression, “You three can’t beat one?”

“Ninth Master, this kid is too strange!” the thin man said urgently, “I’ve played mahjong for years, never seen anything so uncanny! Could he be a cultivator using tricks?”

“No,” the middle-aged man shook his head.

All casino operators had strict arrays for detection—any qi fluctuation at the table would be discovered immediately, to prevent cultivators from using supernatural powers to cheat.

Only those at the Dao Seeking stage, who touched upon the laws of heaven and earth, might bypass these protections.

But those mighty Dao Seekers, if they needed mortal gold and silver, one word and countless factions would deliver it—they wouldn’t come to a place like this to play games.

“Then what’s going on? It’s like seeing a ghost. Even if the three of us tried to signal and collude, we’d still need the chance. But he wins every hand, often self-drawing after just a few tiles—how do we play?”

The middle-aged man considered, “He must have extraordinary mental strength, able to remember many tiles, that’s how he’s doing it… He’s a master.”

“What? Like a god?” the thin man exclaimed.

“At the table, isn’t that just what he is?” the middle-aged man snorted coldly. “Looks like we misjudged today. Haven’t met a real opponent in years; I’ll take him on myself.”

He pushed open the door and sat at the mahjong table.

“The game can’t wait. I’ll take his place,” he said, fixing his eyes on Chuliang with a smile.

Chuliang smiled back, “All right.”

As the middle-aged man sat, the bare-chested man and the old woman became visibly nervous, their gazes fixed on the two pairs of hands at the table.

Chuliang’s hands were long-fingered, their joints shining with a jade-like luster from years of cultivation.

The middle-aged man’s hands were scarred, weathered by hardship.

When their eyes met, the air seemed to freeze, as if lightning crackled between them.

It was the spark of masters clashing.

Then...

Half an hour passed.

“Eh? I won again.” Chuliang pushed his tiles forward in delight.

The middle-aged man’s expression was as if mourning.

A duel between masters? Hardly.

He’d entered full of confidence, hoping to challenge this young upstart, only to lose hundreds of taels in just a few rounds.

The other three, including the thin man who’d stepped out, had lost over a thousand taels each.

In this high-stakes game, with Chuliang nearly winning full hands every round, the sash he used for winnings was packed full.

“Little brother, that’s enough!” The middle-aged man stood in fury, slamming the table.

He saw it clearly now—this youth wasn’t just remembering tiles, but all the tiles! At the table, he got whatever he wanted.

He’d come here simply to toy with them.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want me to win?” Chuliang blinked.

“You’ve won thousands of taels. You’d best leave now and never return to our casino. You should understand the saying: leave a line for others.”

“Hey, I was just playing with you. Why get upset?” Chuliang smiled, setting the sash on the table. “All the winnings are here—I won’t take a single coin. Is that good enough?”

With that, he laughed breezily and rose to leave.

The middle-aged man’s gaze flickered; as Chuliang was about to exit, he suddenly called, “Little brother, why not leave your name? If we meet again in the rivers and lakes, we’ll be friends!”

Chuliang didn’t look back, only waved, leaving a name behind: “Gao Jin!”

As he departed, the others stared in awe and confusion. For a moment, it seemed as if the sound of a dramatic theme followed him.

Until his silhouette vanished entirely.

The thin man returned, puzzled, “He left without the money? Eh? What’s up with this silver?”

He poured out the coins from the sash, discovering the large ingots, though shaped like gold and silver, had turned into dull, lifeless stone.

“What…?” The middle-aged man, experienced as he was, immediately guessed. He whipped around to check the big chest where the casino’s silver was kept. “Quick, look!”

They hurriedly opened it, finding a small hole bored in the side; all the stored silver had become the same dead stone.

“Ah…” The middle-aged man slumped into a chair, muttering bitterly, “Gao Jin, you little thief…”