Chapter 4: Quiet Prosperity

Chapter 4: Modest Wealth

A divine skill that reduces your lifespan each time you use it.

Perfect for me.

Qin Yuan lacks everything except lifespan.

Whether it takes away ten years, a hundred thousand years, or a billion years at once, he wouldn’t even blink.

But how to convince Lin Yidong to teach it?

If it were Qin Yuan himself, he would definitely reply without hesitation, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

“Let the Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill accompany me to the grave,” Lin Yidong said, closing his eyes.

He had suffered severe punishment.

Since Qin Yuan arrived, with all his emotional outbursts and endless talk, his energy had long been drained.

No, please.

I can learn it.

How to put it—tell Lin Yidong, if he passes the divine skill to me, I will protect his descendants in the future.

Lin Yidong certainly wouldn’t listen.

His family was fine now; what if Qin Yuan betrayed him?

Time trickled by, and Qin Yuan nearly gave up.

After all, he was not short of time.

If Lin Yidong refused, then Li Yidong or Chen Yidong could take his place.

Wait, I’ve got it.

Suddenly, Qin Yuan thought of a loophole.

But he didn’t speak it aloud.

Instead, he said earnestly, “The Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill you mentioned seems like an assassin’s technique.”

Lin Yidong opened his eyes and looked at Qin Yuan in confusion.

The Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill was renowned as the most ferocious and unyielding technique in the world—how could it be an assassin’s art?

“Based on lifespan, a person can transform three to five times. If someone trains for twenty or thirty years, perfects the skill, and then strikes, I believe very few in the world could stop his assassination,” Qin Yuan said with clear eyes.

On the surface, he spoke as an outsider commenting on facts.

But beneath, he was expressing an attitude.

If Lin Yidong were smart, he would understand with just a little thought.

If not, he could only accept his misfortune.

Lin Yidong was stunned.

How had he not thought of this?

With the terrifying Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill, waiting another ten years before making a move—no matter the governor’s mansion or the imperial palace—could be pierced through.

After a moment, he sighed, “Ten years is too long; I can wait, but the country cannot, and the people on this land cannot.”

If anyone else said this, Qin Yuan might suspect they were playing dumb.

But hearing it from Lin Yidong, Qin Yuan had no doubt.

“Hmm.”

Lin Yidong suddenly looked at Qin Yuan with a completely new perspective.

Such words, logically, shouldn’t come from a historian.

Though he spoke practically, it was somewhat beyond his role.

There was only one possibility: this historian was at least dissatisfied with the current situation.

People like this, if given a little push, would go much further.

“Do you want to learn the Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill?” Lin Yidong asked, staring intently at Qin Yuan.

Qin Yuan visibly froze for a moment.

After much contemplation, he resolutely nodded: “I want to learn.”

That momentary hesitation suggested his words were subconscious and highly credible.

The long consideration showed he was making a decision.

This meant he was at least somewhat inclined to support Qin Yuan.

Perhaps this person would play an unexpectedly important role in the future.

After a fleeting thought, Lin Yidong transmitted a voice: “Listen carefully, I will only say this once.”

Qin Yuan immediately focused all his attention.

Since his transmigration, his memory had become exceptional.

Hearing a few hundred characters describing the Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill once, he remembered it perfectly.

Afraid of forgetting, after leaving the prison cell, Qin Yuan recalled it as he walked—just like a student in school.

Back home, in the narrow West Third Alley, he hurriedly wrote it down on paper.

After drying, he hid it away.

Only then did he feel at ease.

Stepping out into the yard, he strolled casually.

There were two trees in the yard—neither a jujube tree.

So what were they?

Peach trees.

Too bad it wasn’t the season; he could only imagine their fruit.

In a short time, Qin Yuan walked around the entire yard.

The layout was roughly:

The southeast corner was the entrance gate, a small wooden door painted black with golden edges. West of the gate were four rooms facing inward; opposite these were three rooms on the north side. The east and west wings had two rooms each, enclosing a neat square courtyard. In short, it was a typical Siheyuan compound.

The total area was about five hundred square meters.

Such a large residence would cost billions in the old timeline.

Unexpectedly, upon transmigrating, he already had a small goal.

A few days later.

Qin Yuan’s progress with the Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill was extremely slow; clearly, he lacked the talent.

But Qin Yuan wasn’t anxious; poor aptitude could be overcome with time.

If Deva could do it, so could he.

Yet, this wasn’t the worst news.

The worst news was he had no money to buy medicinal ingredients.

The man Qin Yuan transmigrated into was a hereditary low-income record keeper; aside from being native to the capital, his family had nothing of value.

He had to find a way to make money.

Being too conspicuous was not an option.

Low-profile and stealthy was the way to go.

Got it—write martial arts novels.

Not considered high art, but quick money.

Given the era, writing martial arts novels was the best choice; a bit of romance could be added.

Women’s money was easier to earn than that of men—men would never pay if they had a chance to freeload.

For example, romance novelist Zhang Henshui, author of The Golden Powder Family, earned tens of thousands in manuscript fees within ten minutes from the World Book Company boss and immediately bought a princely mansion in Beiping.

Whose to plagiarize?

Qin Yuan thought it over.

Decided copying old Master Jin Yong was most reliable.

First, mature but not too modern, easy for people of this era to accept.

Second, familiar. Who hasn’t watched Jin Yong’s martial arts dramas and countless fan novels over and over? Closing his eyes, the scenes played out like a movie.

Taking out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, Qin Yuan wrote fluently.

Fortunately, he inherited the previous owner’s memories; otherwise, he wouldn’t have gotten past the writing stage.

He had just written two thousand characters when Li Guangqian walked in.

Qin Yuan casually covered his work.

“What are you writing?”

“Nothing.”

Qin Yuan replied calmly.

Li Guangqian seemed preoccupied and didn’t persist.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just saw the prisoner cart dragging Tan Zhuangfei heading toward Caishikou,” Li Guangqian sighed.

Qin Yuan’s good mood vanished instantly.

Though inevitable, it was deeply unpleasant.

Images of Tan Zhuangfei basking in sunlight flooded his mind.

When he came back to himself, Li Guangqian had already left.

Driven by some impulse, Qin Yuan left the Left History Court, mounted his beloved little donkey, and headed toward Caishikou.

There was no traffic jam in this world, so he arrived quickly.

As expected, a large crowd had gathered.

Those cursing or sympathizing were a small minority.

Most came purely for spectacle.

After all, executions were not a common sight.

Qin Yuan scanned the crowd but didn’t see anyone clutching a steamed bun as depicted by Lu Sheng in his writings.

Of course, it might be hidden in a pocket.

On the platform knelt six prisoners wearing jail uniforms, each guarded by a burly executioner holding a cleaver.

Tan Zhuangfei was at the far east, his face showing no fear.

“Willing to kill traitors but powerless to save the world, dying as one should—how glorious,” he declared.

“Good!” someone in the crowd cheered.

“Who dares cheer?” the execution supervisor thundered angrily, standing up and pointing.

“Beat him to death for me!”

Suddenly, a group of white-clad officers charged into the crowd, indiscriminately kicking and punching.

The supervisor snorted coldly, about to order the execution.

Then urgent hoofbeats approached from afar, parting the crowd.

A thin eunuch, riding hurriedly, shouted in a sharp, high-pitched voice:

“The Empress Dowager orders: use a blunt blade for Tan Zhuangfei’s execution.”

Clearly, Her Majesty loathed Tan Zhuangfei deeply.

“Order received,” the supervisor bowed.

Soon, a blunt blade appeared in the executioner’s hand.

Qin Yuan turned and left.

(End of chapter)