Chapter 23: The Iron March

Wei Cheng personally watched as Cheng An went off to work as a tea house waiter—after a hard day's labor, he would be provided with simple meals and a place to stay, and earn a single large coin in wages.

He then saw Yu Liang take a job as a wine shop attendant, also with board and lodging included, and likewise paid a single large coin.

Wang Wei became a weaver at a cloth shop, again with meals and lodging, and again for the same solitary large coin.

There was no shortage of work in this Floating Cloud City—jobs seemed to be everywhere—but wages never exceeded a single large coin, nor did they dip below it. Clearly, this was no coincidence.

Yet Wei Cheng did not hurry to find employment for himself. Instead, with his basket on his back, he strolled idly through the small city. He had every reason to take his time, for in his basket he still carried fourteen pieces of Blazing Stone, five blocks of Jasper, and two pieces of Black Iron.

Altogether, these weighed over four hundred pounds. Many people had initially thought to dig up a few pieces, but after the battles, the deaths, and the cultivation, they had simply tossed them aside. Only within the walls of this small city did one realize the true value of these ores.

Wei Cheng did not ask around randomly about where to sell his stones. Instead, he wandered the streets with care, quickly grasping the city’s layout.

Two intersecting straight roads connected the four gates at east, south, west, and north.

The southeast quarter was evidently home to well-off and respectable folk—shops were numerous, pedestrians abundant, and most establishments dealt in clothing, food, wines, and amusements. The young ladies in the brothels were quite beautiful. He wondered if any of them were fellow earthlings.

The southwest quarter housed the government offices and the mansions of the wealthy. High walls and deep courtyards, silent streets—passing through, one felt the weight of watchful eyes following for a long way.

The northeast was the domain of the poor, and a section had been cordoned off as a market and inn district.

Only in the northwest could one hear the clamorous ringing of iron being struck.

Wei Cheng had never expected the city’s scale of smelting to be so immense. Passing through a high gate, he was met by an earsplitting din: hundreds of glowing furnaces blazing in the open air, more than two hundred bare-chested men wielding massive hammers as they forged red-hot ingots, utterly absorbed in their work.

Though one could see no obvious flaw, Wei Cheng immediately knew: every last one of these men had to be earthlings.

No wonder they were rarely seen elsewhere in the city—they had all gathered here.

“Good sir, looking to buy something? We at Floating Cloud Ironworks are always honest with our customers, our goods are of the highest quality, and our prices fair. Whatever kind of ironware you desire, we have it all.”

The sudden voice beside Wei Cheng belonged to a plump, smiling man whose geniality was matched only by the shrewdness gleaming in his eyes.

A native, without a doubt.

“I have some ore I’d like to sell,” Wei Cheng said, getting straight to the point. He did not bother to hide his intentions—everything about this city suggested a simple, straightforward way of life: do a job, earn your keep, get your pay. Such a process seemed only natural, as if it were decreed by heaven.

It was as though the immortals overseeing this trial were giving them an opportunity to make up for their lack of strength, yet at the same time, there lingered a sense of urgency, as if time were running out.

Was that just his imagination?

“Of course. Please, come with me,” the fat man replied with a slight smile, leading Wei Cheng to a quieter house outside the high walls.

Inside, a tall, imposing old man sat with his eyes closed, seemingly at rest, though the deep furrow of worry between his brows was impossible to miss.

The fat man quietly reported, “Master, another miner has returned with ore.”

The old man’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment, Wei Cheng felt he was facing a fierce man-eating tiger. The next instant, he wondered if it was just his imagination.

“How much did you mine? What kinds?”

Wei Cheng set down his basket, carefully taking out the pieces of Jasper and Black Iron, leaving the fourteen chunks of Blazing Stone wrapped in cloth—those, after all, could become powerful weapons if used well; it would be a shame to sell them.

“Five blocks of mid-grade Jasper, two hundred pounds of mid-grade Black Iron—young man, you’ve done well for yourself!” The old man finally let a faint smile show, and with a casual flick of his brush, jotted a number—756—on the table beside him.

“According to the rules of Floating Cloud Ironworks, and because the quantity and quality of your ore meet the requirements, you have three choices.”

“First: turn over half your harvest, and become a mining and refining artisan here. We can teach you some of the secret arts of our trade.”

“Second: surrender half your harvest, and you may request that we craft a handy tool or weapon for you.”

“Third: after deducting the city lord’s tax, sell all your ore to us. You can expect to receive 1,582 large coins.”

Such options!

Wei Cheng was sorely tempted. He had never heard of these secret arts before; they seemed distinct from both inner cultivation and external martial techniques.

But would learning yet another secret art spread his focus and resources too thin?

He had already exhausted every method, even sacrificing his own body fat, to gain a slight edge in the Mountain-Moving technique. Did he have the reserves to undertake such a formidable-sounding secret art?

Was five cycles’ worth of Mountain-Moving inner strength truly enough to ensure his safety?

Wei Cheng had not forgotten—his own potential was already showing signs of reaching its limit; by the sixth cycle, he would likely hit a dead end.

If he did not find a way to resolve this, and instead diverted his attention to other skills, he would only be courting disaster.

His mind made up.

“Thank you, Master. I’ll choose the third option.”

“Very well,” the old man replied, showing no surprise at Wei Cheng’s decision. With a wave of his hand, he resumed his meditation, while the fat man gave Wei Cheng an unexpected, searching look.

After collecting his bag of coins and leaving the house, Wei Cheng had not gone far when the fat man called out to him.

“Brother, why did you choose that? Aren’t you interested in the refining arts? As a refining and mining artisan here, you could easily process dozens of pounds of Black Iron a day and earn dozens of large coins! That’s the real golden goose.”

Hm?

Wei Cheng looked at the man in surprise—from top to toe, he looked every bit the native.

“Are you one of us?”

The fat man grinned, extending his right hand.

“Of course I am! I was in the third group that entered Floating Cloud City. Let me tell you, there are only a few tens of thousands of natives in this whole city—the rest are all earthlings like us. They just arrived earlier, worked hard, and have mostly managed to climb up the social ladder.”

“Look at me: when I first arrived a month ago, I was just a gofer at the ironworks. Now, I’m already a second-level supervisor. By the way, my name’s Liu Yahui, from the southeast district of P City. And you?”

“Outskirts of P City—Wei Dayong.”

“Brother Dayong, let me give you some advice. Opportunities abound in Floating Cloud City. No matter what job you take, you might get a shot at a secret art. But the easiest way? Five hundred large coins, and you can buy a manual—more skills never hurt, right, brother? Hey, wait up! I swear I’m not a middleman…”