Chapter 8: The Traveling Merchant
Page 1/3
Chu Jiu quickly finished recording the day’s video log. Yesterday, while recording, a strange system prompt suddenly appeared: [Recording specific details about the spirit beast is prohibited; mentioning the spirit beast’s form and movements is forbidden.] So Chu Jiu could only vaguely mention that he had gained a new companion.
Today, the little canned beast was so clever and agile in helping him pick the cotton sheep that he couldn’t go into detail either, only briefly alluding to it. As with the previous days, the system rewarded him with 30 exploration points at the end.
Including the rewards from completing villagers’ commissions earlier, Chu Jiu had already accumulated a full 170 exploration points.
One hundred seventy points—converted into Chinese currency, that was a whopping 170,000 yuan!
Chu Jiu, who had never handled so much money before, even knowing these exploration points would likely be spent, couldn’t help but roll around on the bed a few times, nearly bursting into laughter.
Late at night.
Chu Jiu slept soundly, clutching a few dry stalks of grass.
In the cat’s nest, a small head suddenly lifted.
Its icy blue eyes scanned the surroundings alertly, then it nimbly slipped through the gap between the window panes.
The little canned beast ran straight to the forest’s edge.
This was the very spot where that audacious human had tried to farm the land.
Though it still had no interest in farming, since “something edible that could be cooked with fish” could grow from the soil, it was willing to try planting at least one kind.
Tilting its head, it recalled the diagrams of the farming facilities the human had shown it.
The first step was to clear these trees completely.
It jumped under a tree and stretched out its paw with its soft pads, pushing hard—
The big tree didn’t budge at all.
The little canned beast meowed, arched its back, and lunged forward—
Yet the tree stood firm.
Growing anxious, it bit, pushed, and scratched for a long time, only managing to leave a few claw marks on the bark.
How could this be?!
Shouldn’t these trees have fallen the moment it struck?
It had once been very strong.
Unable to topple a single tree, the little canned beast sat dazed beneath the tree, lost in thought.
It seemed… it couldn’t farm the land on its own.
What should it do?
Its icy blue eyes gazed toward the depths of the dense forest.
*
The next day was Saturday, also the biweekly “market day” in Bean Village.
The village chief had said that monsters occasionally roamed the road to the town, and since most villagers were elderly, women, or children with limited mobility, they seldom left the village.
For supplies like salt, sugar, and ironware, they relied on traveling merchants who moved between the town and the mountain village.
Naturally, this market held every two weeks became a major event for Bean Village.
Chu Jiu woke early, steamed a potato fruit for himself, fed some dried fish to the half-awake little canned beast, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and set out.
Sure enough, Bean Village was livelier than usual today.
Several elderly people Chu Jiu had never seen before were slowly making their way toward the small square, lugging bundles that looked heavy.
A few children he recognized were rushing happily toward the square, carrying large packs.
Page 2/3
The usually quiet village suddenly buzzed with activity, and even the forest’s insects chirped more joyfully.
When Chu Jiu arrived at the square, the previously empty stalls were all occupied.
However, what the villagers brought to sell or trade were still the usual items:
Soybeans, corn, rabbit legs, chicken legs…
The soybeans and corn were fine, but the meats like rabbit and chicken legs had been hung under the eaves to dry for some time—not fresh, nor properly cured sausages—so they looked unappetizing.
As a result, few people stopped at those stalls.
But a crowd had gathered outside the traveling merchant Aris’s tent, and a line had already formed even before the tent’s curtain was raised.
Chu Jiu queued at the back.
He planned to buy bedding, an iron pot, knives, salt, sugar, flour, and rice…
Quite a lot of things.
Ahead of him in line were Cheng Yue and her younger brother Cheng Lin.
Besides exchanging for some salt and oil, Cheng Yue also intended to acquire some wool from the merchant to spin thread.
The siblings couldn’t farm much land; to make a living, they mostly relied on spinning and weaving.
Chu Jiu chatted briefly with Cheng Yue and learned about Aris’s connection to Bean Village.
Years ago, Aris had taken a deposit from a wealthy lord to purchase soybeans, but that year’s yield was low everywhere else.
Bean Village sold him soybeans at market price, helping the merchant through his crisis.
The village only asked one condition: every half month thereafter, the merchant had to bring goods to the village.
For several years, Aris had indeed come every half month, though the prices gradually increased year by year.
While they spoke, the tent’s curtain finally lifted—Aris was opening for business.
At the front of the line stood Grandma Zhu, who had earlier traded radishes for blunthead fish.
Panting, she placed a bag of soybeans on the merchant’s scale and said, “Exchange for a bag of salt and half a bottle of oil.”
Aris was a middle-aged man with a yellowish-black complexion, curly hair, and a distinctive upward-twisting mustache.
He glanced at the scale, shook his head, and said, “That’s not enough for so many things. I can only give you a small half bag of salt.”
Hearing this, Chu Jiu frowned and quickly calculated the market prices given by the system:
This batch of soybeans was worth 30 copper coins; a bag of salt, 5 copper coins; half a bottle of oil, 10 copper coins.
Grandma Zhu was already at a loss in this deal, but the merchant’s demand to reduce the salt to less than half a bag meant she got only 2 copper coins in exchange for 30.
This was no longer just a dishonest merchant; it was outright robbery.
Grandma Zhu froze, confused.
“Aris, this isn’t right, is it? Your price hike is just too much.”
Aris sat cross-legged on a stool, impatiently snapping, “Take it or leave it. If you won’t trade, take your junk and go.”
Hearing his hard-earned soybeans called “junk,” Grandma Zhu trembled with anger but, not knowing how to curse, could only stammer, “My beans are good! What nonsense are you talking about?”
Behind her, another elderly villager with white hair said, “Aris, how can you raise prices like this! How are we supposed to trade?”
Aris stood up, arms crossed, and declared, “Let me make it clear!”
“From today on, your beans are worth this much! Same for corn and radishes!”
“Take it or leave it!”
The villagers were stunned.
After doing some quick math, they realized that at Aris’s prices, their beans and corn wouldn’t fetch anything meaningful—effectively giving them away.
Naturally, the villagers refused and tried to negotiate.
But Aris cut them off with a final remark:
“This deal ends today.”
“If you don’t want to trade, I’ve long since lost interest in coming here.”
Page 3/3
“What’s the point of coming to this poor, desolate little village? All you’ve got are corn, soybeans, and some lousy radishes and cabbages. The money I make here won’t even pay for hiring a psychic guard!”
Inside Aris’s tent stood a burly gray-haired man—the psychic he had hired.
Traveling merchants without psychic powers usually paid to hire psychics for protection against monsters on the road.
Just as Aris was packing up his tent to return to his wagon, someone called out, “The village chief is here!” “It’s the village chief!”
Chu Jiu turned and saw the elderly chief.
Leaning on his cane, the old man hobbled up to Aris and said, “Aris, a man should keep his word! You say you’re leaving just like that? How are folks supposed to get salt and oil?”
Aris shrugged, “Chief, business is business—”
“The prices for beans and corn before, and now, they’re different!”
“I’m a merchant, not a charity delivering goods for you. I need to make money!”
The old man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket: “You signed a written agreement! Don’t try to back out!”
Aris sneered, “Old cripple, take a good look at the end of that contract!”
“It says clearly: ‘The merchant has the right to propose prices’ and ‘Either party may terminate the contract if they disagree on prices!’”
“If you don’t accept my prices, of course I can end the deal.”
He gestured at the village chief and then at blind Cheng Lin.
“To be honest, this village of old, weak, sick people… I even feel bad doing business with you.”
“Enough!” came a gruff voice that cut off Aris.
It was the psychic Aris had brought along.
The man stared at Aris and said, “Pack up your things. Don’t cause trouble.”
Aris turned red in the face at the rebuke.
He knew that although he was paying, the psychic was only a partner—there was no master-servant relationship.
Moreover, as an ordinary man, even if the psychic’s powers were high level, he dared not provoke him.
So, swallowing his pride, he quietly carried his goods to the wagon.
The psychic glanced over the villagers and muttered, “There are other merchants in town.”
“If you have any fresh or unique goods, you’ll surely find a new merchant.”
*
After Aris left with his wagon, the village chief found a chair and sat down, leaning heavily on his cane, frowning deeply.
The once lively square was now gloomy and despondent.
The villagers lost interest in trading and gathered around the chief, hoping he could come up with a plan.
They didn’t want to be taken advantage of by a heartless merchant, but rice, flour, and oil were necessities they couldn’t live without.
What would they do from now on?
Chu Jiu stood quietly among the crowd, not rushing to speak.
When Aris was shouting, he had sensed something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it.
The old chief sighed and said, “I still have a gun at home. I’ll get it ready and head to Emerald Town tomorrow to see if I can find a new merchant willing to come.”
The villagers exchanged hesitant looks.
Given the chief’s age and health, and an old gun of unknown age, whether he could even make it to Emerald Town was uncertain.