Tong Zhihuan swallowed hard. To be honest, he felt a little afraid of this Immortal Lord. Chen Changsheng sighed inwardly seeing how nervous the boy looked. It seemed he had given the kid quite a fright. “Immortal Lord, I… I could…” Tong Zhihuan stammered, originally meaning to say he should leave. But then he reconsidered, thinking maybe he should stay. Fear was one thing, but this was a real Immortal Lord standing before him. “Hmm?” Chen Changsheng blinked. Tong Zhihuan gave a dry chuckle. “N-nothing…” Chen Changsheng said, “Meeting you twice is fate. Coincidentally, I plan to buy a small thing in the market. Would you mind showing me the way?” Tong Zhihuan was reluctant, but he didn’t dare refuse the Immortal Lord. He walked ahead, leading the way. “Immortal Lord, what are you looking to buy?” “Just a small container, something like a bamboo tube. Hold items. And don’t call me ‘Immortal Lord,’ it sounds odd. If you’re willing, just call me Mr. Chen.” Tong Zhihuan took Chen Changsheng to several shops selling small wares. But shops mostly sold expensive goods, full of antiques or famous pieces. “Excellent taste, sir! This brush holder belonged to Scholar Zhang Qiuwen from the previous dynasty…” Chen Changsheng cut the Manager off. “How much for this brush holder?” “Five taels of silver.” Chen Changsheng paused. He’d taken a liking to it, but the price was truly steep. He put the brush holder down. “I’ll look around a bit more.” “Sir, the price is negotiable!” “Sir! Four taels! Three taels, sir…” Chen Changsheng walked out the door without a backward glance. Three taels? Forget three taels. Right now, he couldn’t even afford one tael. “Onto the next shop?” Tong Zhihuan asked. Chen Changsheng nodded. “Next one.” Tong Zhihuan nodded and continued leading. They visited several shops in a row. Chen Changsheng spotted a few things he fancied, but any thought of buying vanished the moment he heard the price. Expensive. Each one more expensive than the last. Chen Changsheng couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Might as well make one myself. Save the coin. Tong Zhihuan seemed to sense his helplessness. “Is the… gentleman short on funds?” he asked cautiously. Chen Changsheng saw no point in hiding it. “Indeed. Presently, I possess not even one tael of silver.” Tong Zhihuan thought for a moment. “Then… shall we keep looking?” Chen Changsheng sighed. “Best not…” Just then, a rhythmic clanging sound reached his ears. 😊😊😊Golden Novel translates the best Chinese web novels for you!😊😊😊 He turned and saw a blacksmith across the street in his shop, hammer ringing against hot metal. Sparks flew like tiny comets. Chen Changsheng’s eyes lit up. An idea suddenly sparked. Tong Zhihuan followed his gaze. “Does the gentleman wish to hire the blacksmith to make one?” Chen Changsheng shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “I have another idea. Come with me.” Tong Zhihuan nodded and followed Chen Changsheng to the front of the Blacksmith Shop. The blacksmith couldn’t stop mid-strike. Sweat pouring down his face, he managed a glance toward Chen Changsheng. “Give me a moment! Finish this piece!” Roughly a quarter of an hour later, the blacksmith plunged the glowing iron blank back into the forge. He wiped his brow with a grimy hand and approached Chen Changsheng. Only then did he truly notice the remarkable bearing of the man before him. “Looking to buy weapons?” the blacksmith inquired. Chen Changsheng shook his head. “I wish to commission you to forge a sword.” The blacksmith continued, “Depends on the material. If it’s blue steel, can be done for five taels.” Chen Changsheng fell silent, considering. Tong Zhihuan saw it was likely a no-go again. He was puzzled. Didn’t he want a small container? Why a sword now? Seeing his hesitation, the blacksmith added, “Five taels is the minimum. Might run a bit more.” “Is there a… lower-priced option?” Chen Changsheng asked. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novèlfire.net The blacksmith shook his head. Not really. “Alright…” Chen Changsheng thought for a moment, then looked at Tong Zhihuan. “Would you lend me some silver?” Tong Zhihuan hesitated. “Sir… I don’t have much on me.” He pulled out his money pouch. Scraping it together, it amounted to only a handful of broken silver pieces. Chen Changsheng picked it up, weighing it in his hand. “I will repay you.” “Think nothing of it, sir. Please use it.” Tong Zhihuan thought: Who dares expect repayment from an Immortal Lord? Chen Changsheng combined both piles of silver and addressed the blacksmith. “I find myself short on funds today. This amounts to about one and a half taels. I leave it as a deposit. When I come for the sword, I’ll pay the rest. Acceptable?” The blacksmith weighed the silver, confirming it was around one and a half taels. He hesitated briefly. “Can be done. Normally would ask two taels deposit, but one and a half’ll suffice. Forging takes about a fortnight. Bring the remaining silver when you collect.” Chen Changsheng breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He continued, “I also have one request.” Chen Changsheng raised his hand, pinched his hair near the root at a specific spot. His finger moved lightly, and about a hundred strands fell loose into his palm. He held them out. “Forge these into the sword blank.” “Huh?” The blacksmith blinked, bewildered. “But… but hair turns to ash in the fire, surely…” “Just forge it in,” Chen Changsheng said simply, smiling. The blacksmith opened his mouth, then shut it. “I… I’ll give it a go.” He couldn’t fathom why one would put hair in a sword. But he’d met plenty of strange customers over his years at the forge. His surprise wasn’t extreme. “The blade length? And the hilt?” he asked next. Chen Changsheng thought. “One chi and one-tenth.” (Approx. 36.7 cm / 1 foot 2.4 inches) “That’ll require more material. Will cost more.” “I will settle the difference upon delivery.” With this agreement, the blacksmith accepted the commission. Business concluded, Chen Changsheng left the shop with Tong Zhihuan. As they walked, Tong Zhihuan finally voiced his confusion. “Sir, why commission a sword? I thought we sought a container.” Chen Changsheng chuckled. “Because I find myself missing a weapon.” Tong Zhihuan blinked. “And the container? Are you still to look for one?” “Isn’t it already settled?” “What will hold my things,” Chen Changsheng clarified, gesturing towards his head, “Is the hair.” Tong Zhihuan scratched his head, utterly confused. A sword to hold hair? He couldn’t help but ask, “But Immortal Lord… shouldn’t you use an Immortal Sword? Forged of mortal iron… can such a blade meet your discerning Dharma Eye?” Chen Changsheng laughed again, a faint amusement in his voice. “Who says mortal iron cannot cast an Immortal Sword?”