The next morning, the northern ridge overlooking the construction basin was packed with luxury silk pavilions.
Three hundred wealthy mine-owners, quarry bosses, and timber barons from the Eastern Prefecture Spirit-Mine Cartel sat on gilded chairs. They drank spiced wine from crystal carafes, ate roast peacock, and laughed loudly through their gold-capped teeth.
At the front sat Boss Huo, draped in his heavy copper-fox fur cloak, his fat fingers covered in heavy ruby rings. Beside him sat former Regional Director Qian, his neck wrapped in fresh silk bandages, holding an iron abacus.
“Ten billion Supreme Spirit Stones on dried-up stone husks!” Boss Huo bellowed, slamming his silver wine goblet onto a lacquered tray. “Even a spirit-pig has better business sense! In thirty years of running commercial mines, I have never seen an idiot throw ten billion into dead gravel!”
The three hundred cartel bosses roared with coarse laughter, clinking their cups together.
“Look down there!” a quarry master chuckled, pointing a greasy finger toward the basin. “They’re actually burying those broken slabs in the dirt! They think digging trenches will make rocks grow! I bet fifty thousand stones that by noon, Lin Mo will be crawling up this ridge on his knees to buy our third-tier veins!”
