“Top-quality ironware, come and take a look! Crafted meticulously by Blacksmith Liu, definitely better than last year’s!”
“New clothes tailored to fit! Made from the finest beast hides!”
“Grain rice, grain rice, last year’s grain rice.”
“Ugh, who wants last year’s grain rice!”
…
The marketplace was bustling with people, even more lively than in previous years.
The reason for this was the changes the Chen Clan made over two months ago.
Many villagers could now lease land for farming, yielding better harvests than before. Additionally, they could hunt in the mountains, bringing in richer rewards.
Some grain rice, which matured early, had already begun to be harvested.
With no more worries about food, villagers naturally sought a higher quality of life or had time to delve into ways to make a living. Even the hoes they used for digging had become more refined.
These seemingly ordinary changes subtly influenced the area around Disordered Burial Mountain.
Outside the marketplace, a stranger, a middle-aged man around thirty, slowly walked in and approached a stall selling wild animal pelts and tusks.
“How much for this feather?”
The middle-aged man picked up a feather from the stall and asked.
The stall owner glanced at the tricolor feather and replied without looking up, “A pound of grain rice.”
“Last year’s will do.”
The middle-aged man frowned slightly, then pulled out a piece of white jade and tossed it onto the stall, saying, “One jade coin, will you sell it?”
Looking at the strange jade coin, no bigger than a thumb, round, as thin as a leaf, and white with a hint of red, the stall owner muttered, “What the heck is this?”
When he looked up, he saw the middle-aged man dressed in a fine silk robe, wearing a white jade silver crown. The man looked elegant and handsome, like a refined gentleman, making it hard not to feel a bit of goodwill towards him.
“Fine, take it.”
The stall owner waved his hand. The middle-aged man showed no expression, took the feather, and left without taking back the jade coin.
As the middle-aged man wandered around the stalls, he drew the attention of the crowd, who couldn’t help but whisper among themselves:
“He doesn’t seem to be from Disordered Burial Mountain.”
“Doesn’t look like a Chen Clan member either, never seen him before!”
“Should we report this to the Chen Clan?”
…
The middle-aged man seemed oblivious to the murmurs, casually strolling through the marketplace before walking out.
As he left the marketplace, he looked up slightly and saw the emblem representing the Chen Clan at the entrance.
The emblem depicted a two-colored Sophora tree.
The middle-aged man murmured to himself, “Interesting, interesting.”
“Who would’ve thought a small mountain village that doesn’t even recognize jade coins would have a clan with a totem.”
“I’d like to see it for myself.”
With a whistle, a massive shadow flew over his head.
…
“Remember, you haven’t been in the clan for long, so you must understand the clan rules.”
“Don’t be careless when planting Blood Rice, or I won’t be able to protect you if the clan blames us.”
…
Next to the fertile fields, James Chen was sternly instructing the house servants.
At a glance, there were no fewer than twenty house servants around.
All twenty were now under his command, thanks to his excellent performance in the recent clan recruitment.
Originally a villager from a nearby village ten miles from Disordered Burial Mountain, James had the authority to bring in people he knew from his village during the recruitment.
But after studying an ancient, incomplete book overnight and considering the clan’s perspective, he quickly realized the drawbacks.
So, during the recruitment, he followed the clan rules strictly, without favoritism.
Looking back, his approach was correct. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be the one leading now.
But this was just a small step forward. His ultimate goal was to become a clan warrior.
However, his current achievements were far from enough; he needed to work harder.
He was determined to make this Blood Rice harvest a success.
Under his meticulous care, his few acres of land yielded better than Oliver Chen’s, thanks to his consultations with many planting experts.
As James pondered, a commotion suddenly erupted nearby.
Before James could approach to understand the situation, a house servant hurried over and said, “James, there’s a stranger in the fertile fields.”
“Go check it out.”
James frowned, his face turning cold.
Who in the nearby villages didn’t know these fertile fields belonged to the Chen Clan?
He wanted to see who dared to be so bold!
James quickly arrived at the scene.
Several house servants were surrounding a man, blocking his path. The man’s face was calm, showing no emotion, but his indifferent expression gave off a chilling vibe.
When James saw the man’s attire and demeanor, his initial anger vanished.
This person didn’t look like a clan member or someone from a nearby village.
An outsider?
Though Disordered Burial Mountain was remote, outsiders occasionally stumbled upon it, though such occurrences were rare, sometimes years apart.
James had his answer and became more cautious.
He called a house servant over and whispered a few words before stepping forward quickly.
That ancient book had taught him many things.
This person was definitely significant, and he needed to handle the situation carefully.
“James is here.”
Seeing James approach, the house servants felt reassured, ready to drive the stranger away.
Seeing the house servants’ lack of insight, James shook his head but was glad the situation was still under control.
“All of you, step back. I’ll handle this guest.”
James waved the house servants away and smiled, saying, “May I ask what brings you to the Chen Clan’s fertile fields, sir?”
James’s face was humble, his smile warm.
This piqued the middle-aged man’s interest, his calm face showing a hint of amusement.
“Interesting, interesting.”
“A small clan, yet you know how to read the situation. I’m getting more intrigued.”
James was startled. He had mentioned the clan’s name, but the man seemed indifferent.
The middle-aged man didn’t answer James’s question. Instead, he squatted down, looking at the Blood Rice in the fertile fields, and asked, “How many crops of Blood Rice do you harvest a year? How much Blood Rice does an acre yield?”
The middle-aged man’s questions confirmed to James that he wasn’t from Disordered Burial Mountain. He answered each question, though he understated the yield.
The middle-aged man gave James a knowing look but said nothing more. He stood up, glanced around the fertile fields, and said, “The Chen Clan should have received the news by now, right?”
“Let’s go. Take me to see this Chen Clan.”
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