Inside the grand banquet hall of the Lord’s Keep, crystal chandeliers made from fused desert quartz hung from the thirty-foot ceiling, casting a warm, soft light over a long table carved from fragrant cedar wood.
Marquis Pei Zhan and Pei Heng sat stiffly on the guest side of the table, both of them still wearing their bright yellow [SUPREME DEBTOR #9,999] and [VIP DEBTOR #8,888] vests because Abacus Su had warned them that taking the vests off before paying their fines would add fifty silver taels per minute!
Pei Heng had wiped most of Old Yellow’s green camel cud off his nose with a wet towel, though his left cheek was still swollen like a purple eggplant and three gaps whistled in his teeth whenever he breathed.
Even so, the moment the double doors of the banquet hall kitchen swung open, both father and son forgot all about their bruises and stared at the food carts with their eyes popping out of their heads!
Leading a line of ten smiling kitchen maids was fat Old Guo, wearing a tall white chef’s hat and wielding a gleaming Rank 2 iron ladle.
One by one, massive silver platters were placed down the center of the cedar table: * A three-foot-high pyramid of steaming [Rank 2 Golden-Blood Wheat Rolls], their crusts shining like brushed gold and smelling of rich sweet cream! * A giant porcelain basin of [Dragon-Steam Braised Desert Carp], cooked over Ao Ming’s pure Yang-fire steam until the white fish meat melted like tofu on the tongue! * A sizzling iron platter of [Whole Roasted Frost-Mane Lamb Leg], dusted with snow-white crystal salt from Pei Xuan’s regional salt mine and red chili oil! * And right in the middle, a crystal bowl filled to the brim with [Grade-1 Snow-Crystal Spirit Salt]—so pure and sparkling that it looked like crushed diamonds!
GULP!
Marquis Pei Zhan’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down so hard it made an audible clicking sound in the quiet hall.
Back in Iron-Wolf City, because of the spring drought and the cut-off desert trade routes, even the Marquis’s own table had been reduced to coarse yellow millet and bitter grayish rock-salt! Yet here in Pei Xuan’s banquet hall, snow-white crystal salt was being used like cheap sand, and every single dish on the table radiated dense, mouth-watering Rank 2 Spirit Qi!
“Eat, Father, Eldest Brother,” Pei Xuan said with a polite smile from the master’s seat at the head of the table, picking up an ivory pair of chopsticks. “Didn’t you march all the way into the Red-Sand Wastes because Iron-Wolf City ran out of food? Have a bite before we talk business.”
Pei Heng couldn’t hold back for even half a second!
Forgetting all about his noble manners—and forgetting that he had lost three teeth ten minutes ago—Pei Heng lunged across the table with both hands, grabbed two Golden-Blood Wheat rolls and a huge chunk of roasted lamb leg, and shoved them straight into his swollen mouth!
“Mmmph! Thith bread! Thith meat!”
The moment the Golden-Blood Wheat roll and the roasted lamb hit Pei Heng’s stomach, a warm wave of pure blood-energy spread through his tired limbs! Even the throbbing pain in his swollen jaw and split right hand faded by half! Tears actually rolled down Pei Heng’s cheeks as he chewed like a starving wolf who hadn’t seen meat in ten years!
Seeing his son eating with both hands, Marquis Pei Zhan couldn’t resist either. Telling himself that he just needed to replenish his Rank 3 Internal Qi, the Marquis grabbed a wooden spoon and shoveled three huge mouthfuls of braised fish and golden rice into his mouth!
BOOM!
As the Grade-2 spirit food entered his stomach, Marquis Pei Zhan felt the dry, stagnant Internal Qi in his meridians—which had been stuck at the same level for eight years—suddenly surge and warm up!
Reading the shameless thought floating in the red box right above Marquis Pei Zhan’s head, Pei Xuan nearly laughed out loud into his teacup.
Sure enough, as soon as Marquis Pei Zhan swallowed his third bowl of golden rice and wiped his greasy mouth with the sleeve of his yellow Debtor Vest, the old man suddenly slammed his chopsticks down on the table and put on a stern, righteous fatherly face!
“Ahem! Pei Xuan!”
Marquis Pei Zhan sat up straight, puffing out his chest and lowering his voice into the booming tone he always used in his family court.
“Since you managed to survive in Dry-Well Village and build up some family property here, I, as your father, am very pleased!” Marquis Pei Zhan said grandly, waving his hand as if he were giving Pei Xuan a huge reward. “Looking at this banquet today, I see that you still know some filial piety! Therefore, I have decided to forgive you for the past scandal and allow your name to be written back at the bottom of the Iron-Wolf Marquisate family tree!”
Beside the table, Old Wei’s eyes bulged with anger, and Hong Ling gripped her kitchen cleavers. A year ago, it was Lady Wang and Pei Heng who had framed Pei Xuan with a fake scandal so they wouldn’t have to give him a single copper coin of family allowance—and Marquis Pei Zhan had Known it was fake, yet used it as an excuse to throw Pei Xuan and his dead mother’s tablet out into the desert!
Now the Marquis was acting like putting Pei Xuan’s name back on the family tree was a generous gift?!
Pei Xuan didn’t get angry at all. He simply rested his chin on his hand and smiled. “Oh? And after you write my name back on the family tree, Father, what do you want from me?”
Marquis Pei Zhan didn’t even blush. He pointed out the window toward the giant grain silos in the western district.
“Right now, your home city—Iron-Wolf City—is suffering from a severe spring drought, and my ten thousand border soldiers are short on rations!” Marquis Pei Zhan commanded in a tone that brooked no refusal. “As my ninth son, it is your filial duty under the laws of Great Yan to support your father and your eldest brother! Today, I won’t take your whole city. You only need to hand over one hundred thousand stone of this Golden-Blood Wheat, fifty thousand catties of roasted meat, ten thousand catties of snow-crystal salt, and one hundred thousand silver taels from your city treasury! My five hundred empty ox-carts are right outside in the mud basin—have your men load them up before sunset!”
Pei Heng swallowed a mouthful of lamb fat and nodded greedily, lisping through his missing teeth:
“That’th right, Ninth Brother! And while you’re at it, tell those fifteen Rank 3 Grandmathers and that giant camel to pack their bags! Starting tomorrow, General Tie Zhan and five hundred of your Rank 2 guards will march back to Iron-Wolf Thity to serve as my personal vanguard!”
Inside the banquet hall, General Tie Zhan stopped chewing his pork bun and looked at Pei Heng as if the boy had grown two donkey ears.
Old Guo nearly dropped his soup ladle laughing.
And Pei Xuan slowly clapped his hands three times.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
“One hundred thousand stone of spirit wheat, fifty thousand catties of meat, ten thousand catties of salt, a hundred thousand silver taels, and my generals—all for free, just because I am your ‘filial ninth son’?” Pei Xuan asked softly.
“Of course!” Marquis Pei Zhan slapped the cedar table proudly. “Under the Great Yan Imperial Code, a son’s wealth belongs to his father’s clan! If you refuse to give grain to your starving father, I will send a memorial to the Royal Court and the Crimson Cloud Immortal Sect accusing you of being an unfilial rebel!”
“Abacus Su,” Pei Xuan called out mildly without taking his eyes off the Marquis. “Please show the Marquis our filing cabinet.”
“Right away, My Lord!”
Stepping forward with a wide grin behind his round spectacles, Abacus Su pulled a mahogany box out of his sleeve and unfolded a thick sheet of yellow imperial parchment stamped with a bright red wolf-head seal and a black thumbprint!
He held it up three feet away from Marquis Pei Zhan’s face so the Marquis couldn’t snatch it.
“Marquis Pei, please put on your reading glasses and look at this document!” Abacus Su read out loud in a clear, ringing voice that echoed through the open windows of the Keep so the thousands of citizens gathered on the plaza outside could hear every word:
> “On the twelfth day of the third month last year, I, Marquis Pei Zhan of Iron-Wolf City, hereby permanently sever ninth son Pei Xuan from the Pei Clan Genealogy! From this day forth, Pei Xuan is no longer my son, has zero claim to the Iron-Wolf Marquisate’s silver or grain, and whether he lives or dies in Dry-Well Village has nothing to do with the Pei Clan! Signed and sealed: Marquis Pei Zhan!”
Silence dropped over the banquet hall like a heavy stone.
Marquis Pei Zhan’s face turned from pale white to beet red, then to liver purple!
Last year, when Lady Wang had drafted that harsh clan-severing contract, she had specifically added the line “whether he lives or dies in Dry-Well Village has nothing to do with the Pei Clan” so that if Pei Xuan starved to death in the desert, the Marquis wouldn’t even have to pay ten silver taels for a wooden coffin!
Who could have imagined that one year later, that exact piece of paper would slap Marquis Pei Zhan across his own face so hard his ears rang?!
“You—you kept that piece of paper?!” Marquis Pei Zhan sputtered, pointing a shaking finger at Abacus Su.
“Kept it? I framed it in gold leaf and registered a copy with the Provincial Magistrate last month!” Abacus Su beamed, adjusting his spectacles. “Furthermore, last month when we annexed Green-Willow Suburb and Black-Wind Mountain, Lord Pei paid thirty thousand silver taels in back-taxes directly to the Royal Ministry of Revenue to upgrade Dry-Well Village into an Independent Wasteland Earldom! Legally speaking, Marquis Pei, you and our Lord Pei Xuan are complete strangers from two separate jurisdictions!”
Pei Xuan stood up slowly from the head of the table, smoothing the front of his snow-white silk robe.
At the same time, two thousand more desert merchants and newly arrived border settlers finished taking their citizen oaths in the outer square, sending a fresh golden chime through Pei Xuan’s RTS screen!
“Did you hear that, Marquis Pei?” Pei Xuan smiled coldly, looking down at the man who had treated him and his late mother like dirt for fourteen years. “Since you signed the clan-severing paper yourself, we are not father and son—we are just two strangers doing business during a drought.”
Marquis Pei Zhan gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Fine! Doing business! My Iron-Wolf City is starving right now—how much silver do you want per stone of grain?!”
Pei Xuan held up all ten fingers.
“In Red-Sand Oasis City, my loyal citizens buy Golden-Blood Wheat for three copper coins a catty—or three tenths of a silver tael per stone,” Pei Xuan said clearly. “Normally, for foreign merchants, the export price is three silver taels per stone. However, for the Iron-Wolf Marquisate, Lady Wang, and Pei Heng...”
Pei Xuan’s smile widened like a sharp blade.
“Your special family famine price is ten times the export rate—thirty silver taels per stone of grain! And I only accept spot silver or signed land deeds for your border towns! Not a single grain leaves on credit!”
“THIRTY SILVER TAELS PER STONE?!”
Marquis Pei Zhan jumped out of his chair so fast he knocked it over! “To buy ten thousand stone of grain at thirty silver taels each would cost three hundred thousand silver taels! My entire Marquisate treasury doesn’t have three hundred thousand silver taels! This is highway robbery!”
“If you think thirty silver taels is too expensive, you don’t have to buy,” Pei Xuan shrugged calmly, glancing toward the open window facing the eastern highway. “After all, by tomorrow morning, you probably won’t have ten thousand mouths left to feed anyway.”
Marquis Pei Zhan froze, a sudden chill gripping his heart. “What... what do you mean I won’t have ten thousand mouths left to feed tomorrow?!”
Just then, ten miles outside the East Gate, at the edge of the muddy Dry-Gulch Basin where the Marquis’s eight thousand starving foot soldiers were trapped—and outside at Parking Lot B where his two thousand heavy riders were waiting—Old Guo’s psychological warfare stew carts finally lifted the lids off twenty giant iron cauldrons!
Inside the banquet hall, however, Marquis Pei Zhan still had no idea what was happening to his troops outside. He was glaring across the cedar table at Pei Xuan, his face purple under his yellow Debtor Vest.
“Pei Xuan! Don’t get cocky just because you hired a few desert Grandmasters and tricked me with a piece of paper!” Marquis Pei Zhan slammed his fist on the table—and immediately froze when Abacus Su pulled out his magnifying glass to inspect the table wood for dents.
Marquis Pei Zhan quickly lifted his hand off the cedar table and lowered his voice to a harsh hiss.
“Do you think those two thousand elite Iron-Wolf Heavy Riders outside the gate and my eight thousand foot soldiers in the basin are ordinary mercenaries?!” Marquis Pei Zhan sneered darkly, pointing toward the eastern window. “Every single one of my two thousand heavy riders has served the Pei Clan for ten years! Their family household registrations are locked inside my Iron-Wolf City hall! Even if they go hungry for three days, not a single man would dare betray the Iron-Wolf Banner!”
Beside him, Pei Heng wiped lamb grease from his chin and lisped proudly, “That’th right! Our Iron-Wolf Heavy Riders are loyal to the bone! If you don’t let us out of this Keep with free grain before sunset, our two thousand cavalrymen will charge the East Gate!”
Pei Xuan looked at his father and brother with genuine pity in his eyes.
“Loyal to the bone on an empty stomach while wearing canvas manure bags?” Pei Xuan chuckled softly, picking up a porcelain teapot and pouring himself a cup of fragrant green tea. “Father, you really don’t understand how human hearts—or loyalty bars—work.”
Pei Xuan walked over to the wide eastern balcony of the Keep and gestured toward the crystal viewing-glasses mounted on the marble railing.
“Come take a look at East Gate Parking Lot B through the telescope, Marquis Pei,” Pei Xuan said with a gentle smile. “Let’s see how your ‘loyal-to-the-bone’ Iron-Wolf Heavy Riders are doing against Old Guo’s braised pork buns and Boom-Pot Sun’s five-spice mutton stew.”
Marquis Pei Zhan’s heart skipped a violent beat.
With a dark, sinking feeling in his stomach, the Marquis pushed his chair back, walked stiffly across the cedar floorboards in his yellow [SUPREME DEBTOR #9,999] vest, and stepped out onto the sunny eastern balcony with Pei Heng limping closely behind him.
Before Marquis Pei Zhan even put his eye to the brass telescope, the gentle afternoon breeze carried a rich, unmistakable smell all the way up to the Keep balcony from the East Gate half a mile away—the heavenly aroma of five-spice braised Frost-Mane mutton, star anise, roasted garlic, and freshly steamed Golden-Blood Pork Buns!
“Why... why are your cooks boiling mutton stew outside the East Gate right next to my cavalry camp?!” Marquis Pei Zhan’s voice trembled as he grabbed the brass barrel of the telescope with both hands and pressed his right eye against the crystal lens.
The moment the lens focused on East Gate Parking Lot B, Marquis Pei Zhan froze like a man struck by a thunderbolt!