Chapter 87: Domineering Martial Artist

Chapter 87: The Overbearing Martial Man

"There's just over a month left before the lords responsible for the recommendation and inspection arrive. The master's side has been pressing us to prepare more gifts, lest people say we lack propriety when the time comes."

Gu Yong reached out and patted Qian Zhongxiao on the shoulder. "This time, Steward Qian discovered that in Baoning Prefecture there is a famous painting, 'Prince Teng's Procession with Pei Nu.' It just so happens that Lord Feng in the inspection group has a taste for such things, so the master arranged for us to go buy the painting back."

"That Lord Feng is a court official from Shu. His family lacks only a bit of heritage to ascend to the ranks of a Great Clan, so this time, failure is not an option."

Li Jun tossed Gu Yong's words to the back of his mind and asked point-blank, "Buy it for real?"

"If the other party sells in good faith, we buy in good faith. If their attitude is tough, you just watch and buy."

Gu Yong looked at Li Jun, who bore the air of a brute, and couldn't help but laugh aloud.

A fine blade indeed.

"The seller this time is just a gang of antique dealers, not fanatical madmen like the Yang family. They shouldn't fail to recognize their own best interests."

Gu Yong instructed, "However, Tianfu Heavy Industry has been a little too quiet recently. I worry they might suddenly jump out to cause trouble. So this time, Li Jun, you go personally. Bring the goods back safely."

"Understood, Young Master Yong."

Outside Baoning Prefecture, the Qingshi Clubhouse.

After the Security Department driver pulled the black carriage to a halt before the clubhouse gates, Li Jun's first reaction was that the man had taken a wrong turn.

Only after repeated confirmation did Li Jun realize, to his surprise, that this building—elegantly decorated, like a reserved young lady's boudoir—was actually the largest cultural relic trading center in all of Shu.

"Smuggling done with such elegance."

Li Jun shook his head with a smile, left his subordinates at the door, and strode inside.

The people from Shu Road Logistics had long since made contact with the Qingshi Clubhouse, so at this moment someone was already waiting at the gate.

A portly man in a silk short jacket stood before the great doors, flanked by two Door God projections of imposing bearing. Even with deities at his side, the man's *nouveau riche* aura could not be concealed.

Li Jun was still far off, yet the man's round face was already piled high with obsequious smiles.

"This humble one is Song Li. Welcome, Director Li. Your grand presence illuminates our humble Qingshi Clubhouse."

Li Jun likewise cupped his fist in return. "We are all businessmen, Boss Song needn't be so polite. Though, Boss Song, that name of yours is well-chosen."

"Just a small fry digging for food in the dirt. Afraid people would disdain the origins of my wares, so I sought a lucky omen in the name. Director Li, this way please."

Song Li stepped aside, letting Li Jun walk ahead.

The layout of the Qingshi Mansion was indeed impressive; in Li Jun's eyes, it nearly rivaled the Teaching Workshop.

All the way in, everywhere were white walls and grey tiles, steeped in antiquity, without a trace of technological products.

The two walked into a small reception courtyard, equally classical and elegant.

The overall structure was round heaven, square earth. Green bamboo was planted all around. Two rattan chairs sat under the green-tiled eaves. In the center of the courtyard stood a *menhai* basin, red carp swimming within—classical and secluded.

Song Li respectfully invited Li Jun to sit, nimbly brought tea, and then perched on the very edge of the rattan chair.

Li Jun's expression was slightly strange. Having clashed too many times with major conglomerates of comparable strength like Tianfu Heavy Industry, his judgment of Shu Road Logistics' power had developed a bias.

In his eyes, Shu Road Logistics wasn't that strong. But from Song Li's series of actions, the deterrence of a Great Clan conglomerate against minor forces like the Qingshi Clubhouse was simply like dark clouds pressing down on the city.

"Director Li, what price does your esteemed conglomerate intend to offer for this 'Prince Teng's Procession with Pei Nu'?"

Seeing Song Li's cautious manner, Li Jun knew strong-arming wouldn't be necessary this time. He simply sprawled on the rattan chair, closed his eyes to feign sleep, and raised two fingers toward Song Li.

"Two million?"

Li Jun tapped his two fingers together.

Song Li instantly understood—still a fixed price. His round face twitched, his heart aching.

Normally, if Shu Road Logistics offered this price, it would be considered fair. But now, everyone in Shu knew the recommendation was imminent. The Confucian conglomerates of every prefecture were snapping up such refined playthings; prices had naturally risen with the tide.

Moreover, this 'Prince Teng's Procession with Pei Nu' wasn't just for appreciation. It could serve as a template to construct a Yellow Millet Dream, letting one experience the thrill of a former dynasty's prince visiting a famous courtesan.

Two million was barely above what Song Li had paid to acquire it. It seemed Shu Road Logistics had investigated thoroughly and come prepared.

"Shu Road Logistics is too overbearing. Sending a Security Director to negotiate—this is putting a knife to my throat."

Song Li's face showed bitterness. He calculated how to raise the price without angering Li Jun, when a lazy voice suddenly rang by his ear.

"If Boss Song accepts this price, all future cargo transport for the Qingshi Clubhouse in Shu can be entrusted to Shu Road Logistics."

Hearing this, the worry between Song Li's brows instantly dissipated considerably.

One must know the Qingshi Clubhouse's goods were almost all of dubious origin and high value, often attracting bandits and highwaymen not subject to royal law.

If the goods were robbed mid-transport, the Qingshi Clubhouse usually had to swallow their grief in silence.

Report to officials? Impossible.

If the Garrison Office found out, they'd have to pay a hefty bribe to cover it up.

If Shu Road Logistics, backed by a Great Clan, could transport goods for the Qingshi Clubhouse, not only would business be more convenient, but client guarantees would rise to a higher level.

In the antique trade, reputation is life.

Song Li's fists, resting on his knees, suddenly clenched tight. He was just about to agree when a voice came through his internal earpiece.

Instantly, Song Li's expression cycled through changes, a spectacular display.

After a long hesitation, he carefully looked at the man dozing on the opposite rattan chair and said with a bitter face, "Director, another client just arrived, specifically naming this 'Prince Teng's Procession with Pei Nu'."

Song Li swallowed. "And he declared that no matter what others bid, he will add three hundred thousand."

"He doesn't know this painting is being bought by Shu Road Logistics?"

"I told him, but that boss simply gives no face."

"So overbearing?!" Li Jun's impression of this mud-legged tycoon wasn't bad. He immediately half-narrowed his eyes. "I won't make things hard for you. Bring the man here. I'll talk to him myself."

Song Li was instantly granted amnesty and bolted from the courtyard like a wisp of smoke.

"Business is hard to do these days."

Li Jun sighed deeply. He thought it a simple errand, never expecting this melodramatic plot of bidding wars and flaunting wealth to land on his head.

He closed his eyes and began recalling the major and minor powers in Baoning Prefecture one by one.

If talks failed, it would come to blows.

Fortunately, Baoning wasn't far from Chengdu. If he killed someone of status, he should still have time to run.

Just as he calculated whether to have his men outside send his blade in, a creaking sound of heavy weight shifting came from the rattan chair beside him.

Someone's here?

The other party got this close without him sensing a thing. Li Jun's hackles rose instantly; he snapped his eyes open in shock.

He saw a man in tight martial attire sprawled on the rattan chair. His profile was ordinary, save for a nose bridge straight as a blade.

At the same time, whether by coincidence or fate.

A beam of skylight leaked through a gap in the roof tiles above the eaves, happening to fall exactly so that the two rattan chairs, and the men lying upon them, were divided into one light, one dark.