Chapter 235 — Unlicensed

CHAPTER 235

Unlicensed

“The ore's not coming,” Cui Hong said.

The gate supervisor stood at the foot of the stone stair with his arrival board under one arm. Behind him, Zheng Yu was holding two brushes and a long face. Shi Feng had come down for the morning stall and found a small crowd of outer-court disciples gathered around them.

“Which ore?” Shi Feng asked.

“The Wujin Mines shipment,” Zheng Yu said. “Twelve wagons. Three months of iron for the whole sect. It reached the border post yesterday, and Martial Palace stopped it.”

“Stopped it why?” Shi Feng said.

“Inspection,” Cui Hong said bitterly. “Martial Palace sealed every wagon. Now they say the ore may be ‘improperly graded.’ We get it back when they decide the inspection’s finished.”

“When is that?” Sima Lan asked. She had arrived with the stool and the ledger and was setting up the table.

“They didn't say,” Cui Hong said.

“Do they charge for the inspection?” Sima Lan said.

“Yes,” Zheng Yu said miserably. “Eighty spirit stones a day, per wagon.”

Sima Lan took out her chalk and wrote a figure on the board. Zhu Liu, behind her, leaned over to see it and went pale.

“That's nine hundred and sixty stones a day,” Sima Lan said. “For ore we've already paid for.”

“We haven't,” Cui Hong said. “Half is on credit.”

“Then it's nine hundred and sixty stones of someone else's money,” Sima Lan said. “Even worse.”

The outer-court crowd had gone silent. Artificer Hall hadn't had nine hundred and sixty stones to spare in the memory of any disciple present.

“They're squeezing us,” a boy whispered.

“Martial Palace never squeezed before,” a girl said. “Why now?”

“Because of the champion,” someone muttered.

“Misfortunes never come singly,” an old man sighed.

Nobody looked at Shi Feng. Everybody thought about him.

Shi Feng remembered Wei Chengyuan’s warning at the inn in Qingyun City. Refusing Martial Palace had consequences beyond his own fights. They couldn’t force him through their door, so they had stopped Artificer Hall’s supplies instead.

It was closer than he'd thought.

A broom swept noisily across the paving stones behind him.

“Inspection,” Li Changyuan said.

The sect master had appeared in his patched robe, pushing a pile of dead leaves toward the drain. He did not look up. He did not look at Cui Hong, or at the board, or at anyone.

“Sect Master,” Cui Hong whispered, bowing so low that his board touched the floor. He kept his voice down. The outer disciples at the stall were already staring at the sweeper who'd interrupted, and Cui Hong knew better than to tell them who he was.

“Inspection costs eighty a wagon?” Li Changyuan asked the leaves.

“Yes, Sect Master,” Cui Hong whispered.

“Who set the rate?” Li Changyuan said.

“A Martial Palace clerk,” Cui Hong said.

“Hm,” Li Changyuan said. “Write the figure down, Cui Hong. I like to know what things cost.”

He swept the pile into the drain and shuffled away.

The outer disciples began whispering as the old sweeper left. Cui Hong had bowed to him. Whatever his position, he’d heard the figures, and the gate supervisor clearly expected that to matter.

“Shi Feng,” Sima Lan said quietly. “Customers.”

He turned. The first of the morning queue had arrived, and it was longer than usual. At the front stood a lean herb-carrier named Mei Dong, who had come all the way from Duanyang City twice before. He was clutching a crumpled sheet of paper in both hands, and his face was wet with sweat.

“Young Master Shi,” Mei Dong said. “I didn't know whether to bring this, but...”

“Show me,” Shi Feng said.

Mei Dong held out the sheet. It had been torn along one edge, and the corners were bent. A red seal was stamped at the bottom. The writing above it was large and square, in a stiff clerk's hand.

Notice from the Duanyang branch of the Martial Palace Pharmacy. The pill stall operating under the name “Artificer Hall” at the Thousand Forge Peak outer gate is not licensed by this city, by the Sky Pavilion, or by any recognised guild. Purchasers are advised that its products are unlicensed and may be harmful. Any person found selling or reselling such products within Duanyang City will be reported.

Shi Feng read it once.

“Where was this?” Shi Feng asked.

“Nailed to the pharmacy door,” Mei Dong said. “At dawn. The clerk hammered it up himself. I took one off the second nail before he noticed.”

“It's wrong, isn't it?” a girl in the queue whispered. “Your pills are the best in the outer court!”

“They aren't harmful!” a boy said. “My brother is alive because of that pill!”

“Unlicensed,” another voice said slowly. “It doesn't say they're bad. It says they're unlicensed.”

“Same thing,” a man answered. “To Martial Palace, the same thing. The fox borrows the tiger's might, and the Palace has plenty of foxes.”

Zhu Liu shakily recorded the received notice. Sima Lan read over Shi Feng’s shoulder, angry now. The warning targeted their customers as much as the stall. Anyone who took their pills into Duanyang City could be reported.

“They'll arrest customers next,” Sima Lan said. “Or tax them.”

“Probably,” Shi Feng said.

A shadow fell across the sheet.

“What's this? Reading material?” Lin Langtian said.

He had arrived with a sweet potato in each hand and cheerfully elbowed his way through the queue, ignoring four bows. He took the notice out of Shi Feng's hand with two fingers, held it at arm's length and read it. His lips moved.

He read it a second time.

The queue waited. Sima Lan waited. Even Zhu Liu's brush stopped.

Lin Langtian lowered the notice with a delighted grin. Shi Feng watched him, wary. His senior brother looked far too pleased by a paper meant to ruin their business.

“Unlicensed,” Lin Langtian said softly. “Oh, Junior Brother. What a gift.”