Chapter 721 — The Bond Desk

CHAPTER 721

The Bond Desk

“Five hundred thousand,” Chief Steward Ke Lianshu said, and bowed for the third time. “This humble steward must apologise again, Master Shi. The fee you paid at the front gate isn’t a fee any more. It’s your bond.”

The bond desk stood at the side of the Talent Hall, under a row of red lanterns. Forty-eight passed candidates waited in a loose line in front of it. Clerks with ink-stained fingers sat behind it, stamping receipts.

“A fee three days ago and a bond today,” Shi Feng said. “What will it be tomorrow?”

“Still a bond, Master Shi.” Ke Lianshu bowed again. He was a round man in a plain grey robe, and he bowed the way other men breathed. “The household holds it for every candidate. It’s returned in full to the final recruits. To nobody else.”

“And if I walk away now?” Shi Feng said.

“Then the bond stays with the household,” Ke Lianshu said apologetically. “And the forfeit for wasting Her Highness’s time still stands. One million. Without a compass and a square, nobody can draw a circle, Master Shi. This humble steward is very sorry.”

Ji Yuanhe, standing one step behind Shi Feng, counted quietly on his fingers.

“One million five hundred thousand,” Ji Yuanhe said. “To leave.”

“And zero to stay,” Shi Feng said.

Shi Feng laughed, drawing looks from three waiting candidates. He’d asked for an accounting and received confirmation that every way out cost more than staying. At least the household no longer pretended the money was an ordinary entry fee.

The bond kept him in the contest. Leaving cost three times as much, while finishing offered two useful prizes: the Deity Transformation-grade Falling Star Sword art and the Quiet Soul Lotus. Shi Feng wanted the art, but Ji Yuanhe’s cure was the reason he couldn’t walk away.

“Write me the receipt, then,” Shi Feng said. “Bond, not fee. Both words.”

“Of course, Master Shi,” the clerk said.

The clerk wrote it. Shi Feng read it, made the clerk add the date, and put it in his sleeve.

[Cash: about 6,500,000 | Bond: 500,000, held by the household | Note: refunded to final recruits only.]

Qu Ming stood at the second bond desk with his attendant Yao Chen behind him. The young lord of the Azure Sun wore red and gold, and the air around him was a little too warm, as if he’d been standing beside a furnace all morning. The clerks at his desk had stopped stamping to watch.

He hadn’t queued. The candidates at that desk had stepped aside for him.

“The Pavilion’s stamp boy, arguing about receipts,” Qu Ming said from the next desk. “How fitting.”

“Young Lord Qu,” Shi Feng said politely. “You passed too. Congratulations.”

“I don’t need your congratulations.” Qu Ming looked him up and down. “I only want to know one thing. A 4 Mark with no sect, no teacher anyone has heard of, and a servant who counts on his fingers. Which furnace did you crawl out of?”

The line went quiet. A few candidates smirked.

“Willow Ford,” Shi Feng said. “Third gate after Auntie Niu’s stall. Commissions take ten days, and customers provide two sets of herbs. If you have an order, Master Ji can write it down.”

Qu Ming’s face went still.

“And he’s not a servant,” Shi Feng added. “He keeps my book. If you come by, he’ll write your name in it.”

“Pfft!”

Somebody in the line laughed, and then pretended it was a cough.

“He’s quoting him commission terms!”

“He’s touting for business. At the princess’s bond desk!”

“Does he know who that is?”

“…”

Yao Chen stepped forward half a pace. Qu Ming lifted two fingers, and his attendant stopped.

“Remember what I said in your lane,” Qu Ming said coldly. “Here everything is witnessed. So I’ll beat you where everyone can see it.”

“That’s fine,” Shi Feng said. “Everyone seeing it saves me telling them afterwards.”

“A sparrow can’t know the ambitions of a swan,” Qu Ming said, to nobody in particular.

Qu Ming left without waiting for a reply. The candidates who’d stepped aside waited until he cleared the door before returning to the counter. Shi Feng watched the gap close, unimpressed by the ease with which the young lord made them obey.

Ke Lianshu watched him go. Then he bowed to Shi Feng, a little deeper than before.

“Master Shi,” Ke Lianshu said. “Young Lord Qu’s grandfather is a half-step 6 Mark. This humble steward only mentions it.”

“I know who his grandfather is,” Shi Feng said. “Does the household have a rule against beating grandsons?”

“…No, Master Shi,” Ke Lianshu said.

“Then I’ll stay inside the rules,” Shi Feng said. “Tell me the next round.”

Ke Lianshu took a folded sheet of red paper from his sleeve. He didn’t open it.

“The second round is posted at noon,” Ke Lianshu said. “All forty-eight candidates will gather at the West Market gate. Her Highness wants to see how you sell.”

“Sell?” the candidate behind Shi Feng repeated. He was a broad young man with a Situ jade on his belt. “We’re fighters. What are we supposed to sell?”

Ke Lianshu bowed to him as well.

“Whatever you can, honoured candidate,” Ke Lianshu said. “Her Highness’s pavilions sell everything. Her recruits should be able to sell something.”

He went back to his desk.

Shi Feng looked at the receipt in his sleeve, then at the red paper in the steward’s hand.

“Master Ji,” Shi Feng said. “How much is in the courtyard?”

“Herbs, three crates. Charcoal, two sacks,” Ji Yuanhe said at once. “The cauldron.”

“Good,” Shi Feng said. “We may need all of it.”

Outside the hall, the noon drum started to beat over the West Market.