Chapter Thirty-Eight: Xu Wenshan, the Virtuous Merchant

The retainers of the Xu family strode toward the members of the Guo family, the leader shouting, “Attack!” At once, the retainers surged forward as one.

Xu Wenshan instantly understood—these were the reinforcements sent by his father, Xu Changshui.

Xu Changshui had long made preparations for such a day. These men, who outwardly served as retainers of the Xu family, were in truth the family’s loyal deathsworn.

When Xu Wenshan had first crossed over into this world, he’d noticed that some of the household retainers seemed to do little work, lazing about as if indifferent even to him. He’d assumed that all retainers in this world possessed such spirit, but only now did he realize: these seemingly idle men were the family’s deathsworn.

In fact, raising deathsworn was not as difficult as tales would have it. One did not need to train them to keep a packet of poison beneath their tongues or the like. In this era of material scarcity and backward social relations, raising deathsworn only required a single thing: the ability to support men who did no productive labor.

Before the age of industrialization, eating meant working the fields. Only a few could afford to study, for study meant not working, or only working part-time. Only landlords, or at the very least, hardworking middle peasants risking everything, could support such non-working dependents.

As for poor peasants and tenant farmers, who had to hand over half their harvest to the landlord, they were lucky just to feed their families, let alone support a non-working member to study.

Xu Changshui, however, was the ultimate landlord. Last year, the family harvested thirty thousand catties of millet—enough to feed two hundred men freed from toil. The Xu family’s seven concubines, Xu Wenshan himself, and all their retainers and servants were such dependents. The deathsworn were no different from the rest.

The Xu family was not large, leaving them at a disadvantage in a brawl, so Xu Changshui had begun raising deathsworn early on.

Deathsworn were not “men sent to die,” but rather people for whom, without the Xu family, there would be no life at all.

All those lofty words about “repaying a drop of kindness with a spring” were unreliable; in the end, interest is what ruled all.

Deathsworn were simply those whose interests had been bound to the Xu family’s chariot.

Most of these men were outsiders or rootless loners with no kin, with nothing to their names. Xu Changshui promised them free food and board in exchange for no labor, and that alone was enough to buy their lives.

They were the family’s most elite force, Xu Changshui’s hidden trump card.

Yet facing this trump card, these men wielding wooden clubs, Xu Wenshan felt both amused and exasperated. The Guo family was but a minor nuisance—he could have handled them himself. He hadn’t expected Xu Changshui’s concern for his safety would prompt him to reveal the family’s aces for such a trifle.

“Brothers! The Xu family has gone too far! Let’s rise up and fight back!” Guo Xin called.

The Guo family’s men sprang to their feet, brandishing their farm tools, and soon the Xu deathsworn and the Guo youths were locked in battle.

On one side were the well-fed, well-kept deathsworn; on the other, the farm-hardened Guo lads. For a while, the contest was evenly matched.

Xu Wenshan sighed and called out, “Enough! Stop!”

But those fighting were too caught up to heed him. Xu Wenshan wiped his brow—clearly, he needed to improve his standing and reputation.

He had hoped to resolve this peacefully, but now violence was unavoidable. He grasped the fence, and with a few light movements, vaulted over the man-high barrier. The archers stared in astonishment—as it turned out, the young master of the Xu family was skilled in martial arts as well.

What happened next left the archers even more stupefied: Xu Wenshan leapt from the top of the fence, his fingers cutting through the air like blades, grabbed the Guo family’s men one by one, and felled them with a single blow each. In no time, all the Guo men lay sprawling on the ground.

As the dust slowly settled, the deathsworn were dumbfounded, the hunters stunned, and Guo Xin was left speechless.

The Guo family’s fighters were utterly routed—lying, crawling, all splayed on the earth, incapable of further struggle. Only Xu Wenshan remained standing.

Xu Wenshan tilted his head back and gazed at the sky: how lonely it is to be invincible!

With his body tempered by demonic power, a first-level demon cultivator possessed physical strength far beyond that of ordinary people; even his casual movements could shatter stone. How could these half-starved men be his match?

Yet as each onlooker thought: if you had such skill, why didn’t you say so earlier? Would we have needed to descend into this chaos?

Xu Wenshan grabbed Guo Xin, lifted him up, and sighed, “Uncle Guo, why do this? Why can’t we make good money together and avoid all this fighting?”

Guo Xin was a wily old fox, with the sense to surrender when needed. Bowing his head, he replied, “Nephew Xu, whatever you say, I’ll do as you wish.”

Xu Wenshan had not originally intended to use force; he merely wanted Guo Xin to recognize he was no match for the Xu family, so that in his absence, the Guos would not dare cause trouble. His plan to intimidate the Guos with his archers had only half succeeded before the Xu deathsworn intervened, and now it was his own martial prowess that had left the Guos deeply impressed.

Since he now had Guo Xin in hand, he might as well take the opportunity to extort a bit.

At this point, Guo Xin was thoroughly despondent. He realized he had misread the situation—he had acted too soon, while the Xu family was still strong. Now, with the tide turned, he could only hope the Xus would spare his family’s lives.

One intended to extort, the other already resigned to being at his mercy—thus the two played their parts in perfect harmony.

“Uncle Guo, I think it would be best for you to buy your meat from me in the future.”

“Of course.”

“Let’s sign a five-year contract for the trade of edible meat, shall we?”

“And what would that entail?”

“Once we sign, you pay up front for all the meat you’ll need for the next five years. We’ll supply your household with meat every day for five years. How about it?”

“But I don’t have that much cash…”

“Doesn’t your family have surplus grain? Sell it to my grain and oil shop, then you’ll have the money.”

“But then we’ll have no grain left to eat…”

“You can always buy grain from my shop.”

“But then I’ll have no money again…”

“I can lend you the money! Doesn’t your family still have land? Pledge ten mu to me as collateral. Each year, you’ll give me twenty percent of the grain from those ten mu as interest. I’ll lend you enough for five years’ worth of rice and meat. When the five years are up, your land is returned untouched, and any remaining balance is settled between us—nobody owes anyone, fair and square. How’s that?”

“I… I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Xu Wenshan summoned Li Qing, who had been standing by, and had him draft two contracts.

The first was a loan agreement: the Xu family would lend the Guos twenty strings of cash, to be used for buying grain and meat, with the Guos repaying the interest in grain—twenty percent of the yield from their ten mu each year.

The second was a contract for the purchase and sale of meat and grain: for the next five years, the Guos would sell all their grain to the Xu family, and the Xu family would supply the Guos with meat and grain every day for five years.

Once both parties had signed and sealed the contracts, Xu Wenshan rolled up his copy and tucked it into his sleeve. “Uncle Guo, our business is fair and square. I haven’t taken advantage of you, have I?”

Guo Xin nodded, then reached out his hand. “Nephew, the contracts are sealed. Now, could you give me the twenty strings of cash?”

“Oh? Uncle Guo, that’s your fund for buying grain and meat. You’re going to use it to buy those things from me anyway—why bother passing the money back and forth?”

Guo Xin blinked. “You mean…”

Xu Wenshan produced an account book and handed it to Guo Xin. “From now on, both our families will keep an account book. When you buy grain or meat, there’s no need to pay cash—just record it here. Every transaction is entered. When the twenty strings are used up, our contract is fulfilled. Isn’t that convenient?”

Guo Xin took the book and saw, written on the cover, three characters: “Shopping Ledger.”