In the middle of East-Gate Market City, ten thousand nervous shopkeepers, farmers, and caravan drivers craned their necks to stare at the fat cast-iron toad sitting on top of Pei Xuan’s Armored Spirit-Tank.
The iron toad was about the size of a watermelon, painted a cheerful glossy green with golden brass warts along its back. Its two eyes were made of spinning brass abacus beads, and its wide copper tongue stuck out six inches in front of its mouth like a flat weighing dish.
Up on the overturned vegetable cart, the disguised Joyous-Gold spy captain—Outer Deacon Zhao—crossed his arms and let out a loud, mocking laugh.
“A toy iron frog?” Deacon Zhao shouted so the whole street could hear him. “Lord Pei, are you trying to coax three-year-old children? Even the Master Appraisers of our—I mean, of the Joyous-Gold Sect—need a magnifying glass, a spirit-weighing scale, and five minutes of Rank 4 spiritual sense to tell a real Spirit Stone from a lead-core fake! How can a lump of cast iron tell the difference?”
Several worried shopkeepers in the crowd nodded in agreement.
“He has a point,” whispered Old Liu, who ran the largest steamed-bun shop on East Street. “Those fake stones from today even had real Spirit Qi glued to the outside! Unless you smash every single stone with a hammer, you can’t see the grey lead inside.”
