Chapter 3: Appraising Treasures, Splitting the Take

The air after the rain still carried the pungent scent of damp earth, mingling with the peculiar mustiness and aged-paper aroma of the old bookstore. The smells seemed to ferment in the cramped space. A sliver of sunlight cut diagonally across the desk, illuminating a scrap of paper with the characters "30,000" written on it. Dust motes swirled violently in the light beam, like countless tiny ghosts dancing in silence.

Lin Wan’s fingers kept tapping the table in a steady rhythm. The *tok, tok* sound shattered the room’s heavy silence, each tap feeling like a thud against A Tu’s calculating heart. She didn’t mention the exorbitant commission. Instead, her gaze swept over the piles of tattered scrolls stacked in the corner. Their edges were yellowed and curled, looking like brittle bones gnawed by time.

Her voice was cool and clear, devoid of any common warmth: "Boss A Tu, I’m not paying an appraisal fee, and I’m not paying channel fees. But will you hand over these three long-stagnant antiques? If I can pull a treasure worth a hundred thousand per piece from them, we split the profits fifty-fifty. If I can’t, the deal’s off, and I’ll look elsewhere."

A Tu narrowed his cloudy eyes. He thumped the table with his finger, the wrinkles on his face bunching up. The greedy smile usually plastered on his face instantly froze into a look of wary stiffness: "Ms. Lin, are you gambling with your life? These heaps of trash have been sitting in my shop for three years. Even an ant wouldn’t bother sniffing them.

Just saying so isn’t proof. If I hand them over and you fix them, letting you take half would be a ripoff. But if you can’t pull anything out, what do you compensate me with for the time cost? We can’t just break the rules like that."

The shelves behind him cast dappled shadows under the lights, making the shop feel even more oppressive and confined.

The tension spiked. Thunder rumbled faintly outside, as if orchestrating this standoff. Lin Wan didn’t retreat. She took a deep breath, pulling her aura inward. A faint, almost imperceptible golden glimmer surfaced in the depths of her eyes.

This was the first time her "Appraisal Pervasion" was fully activated. Her vision instantly became crystalline, and the world in her eyes shed its colorful clutter, leaving only pure streams of information.

Her gaze pierced through the rough surface of the paper, locking directly onto the one book that looked the most ordinary—a damaged thread-bound volume. Between the pages, a hidden rune was pulsing faintly, like a sleeping creature breathing, radiating a weak warmth.

"Boss A Tu, please open page thirteen of this 'Records of the Setting Sun' on the left." Lin Wan’s voice was calm, devoid of ripples, precise as a surgical knife. "Use a silver hairpin to pry open the gap between the protective cover and the back. A yellowed secret letter is hidden there. It contains the lost fragment of the 'Shattered Jade Induction'. With specific materials, it can deduce the entry technique for the Body Tempering Realm."

A Tu’s heart gave a jolt. Even though his mouth didn’t believe it, his body was more honest than his mind. He muttered curses as he shuffled over, roughly flipping through the pages. His trembling fingers probed the gap between layers, nails scraping against the back of the paper with a faint *swish*. Sure enough, a slip of paper, thin as cicada wings and colored with age, slid into his palm.

He unfolded it. It was covered in text as fine as a mosquito’s leg. The brushstrokes were sharp, exuding an undeniable martial pressure, as if they could pierce through the paper and sting his palm.

"This... this is definitely the first part of the Shattered Jade Induction incantation!" A Tu’s voice cracked. His arrogance shattered, replaced by a near-greedy awe. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. "Ms. Lin, what kind of sorcery is in those eyes of yours?"

Lin Wan retracted her glowing gaze, her expression indifferent: "It’s resonance with the book’s soul. Only someone who truly understands books can hear the whispers of the pages."

With the contract settled, Lin Wan stopped explaining. She quickly picked out two other treasures from the pile of scrap. As her fingertips brushed the spines, the tattered pages subtly glued themselves back together under the nourishment of Literary Qi. The ink regained its vividness, and the once dull scrolls seemed to be reinfused with life.

She not only restored the antiques but also absorbed the residual Literary Qi from the book souls during the repair process. Her meridians heated up slightly, and the outline of the basic Body Tempering technique became clear in her sea of consciousness, accompanied by a faint hum—the signal that her body’s potential was being awakened.

"Deal! Three treasures, appraised at a hundred and twenty thousand. You take sixty thousand." A Tu’s face was ruddy. He pushed a thick stack of credit vouchers across, his attitude completely transformed, even carrying a hint of flattery. "From now on, in this heap of junk, anything with this 'Literary Qi' signature, you get first pick."

Lin Wan took the money, but her gaze slipped through the broken window, landing on a cold, striking figure standing outside. Gu Qinghan was leaning against the display window, a subtle ripple passing through her icy features. She seemed drawn to the dense Literary Qi permeating the shop, or perhaps she was sizing up this "dismissed" down-and-out young lady.

Her fingertip tapped lightly against the glass, making a tiny sound that contrasted strangely with the stillness inside the shop.

"Miss," Lin Wan suddenly spoke, her gaze bypassing A Tu to lock onto a pedestrian behind Gu Qinghan who was retreating in panic, "The 'Mystic Ice Technique' fragment your friend there is carrying is the wrong version. It’s a unique manuscript lost from the sect library. If it flows into the wild, it’ll attract dirty hands like the Black Dragon organization. It’s not worth the risk."

The pedestrian flinched, and the package slipped from their hand. Gu Qinghan moved in a blur, appearing instantly in front of Lin Wan. Her chilling aura washed over both of them, carrying a faint scent of ice fragrance. She picked up the antique, flipping through the pages. The moment she saw the ink on the back cover, cracks finally appeared in that cold, striking face: "This...

Is this a fragment of the 'Frost-Condensing Step', the seventh move of the 'Mystic Ice Technique'? How did you know this was a unique sect manuscript?"

"The fiber direction of the paper, along with the residual formation patterns, all point to the batch of library books destroyed three years ago." Lin Wan’s tone was flat, as if stating a fact. "However, this page is severely damaged now. Without specific medicinal repair, the patterns will disintegrate within three days, and its value will be zero."

Gu Qinghan’s eyes narrowed. She pulled a black card from her robe and slapped it heavily on the table: "Five hundred thousand. Buy it. By any means necessary, I want it complete."

Lin Wan looked at the huge sum that could have completely solved her problems, but she slowly shook her head. Her gaze settled on Gu Qinghan’s slightly shifting footstep: "Miss Gu, it’s not about the money. I’m refusing to sell because there’s an undiscovered hidden injury buried in your foundation for practicing the 'Mystic Ice Technique'."

The room fell silent. All that could be heard was the sound of raindrops striking the eaves outside, tapping on the nerves of the high martial academy’s genius female prodigy, who was both proud and unfamiliar with such honesty.

Gu Qinghan’s pupils contracted sharply. Her fingers dug into the edge of the table, making a faint creaking sound. Her pride in her own perception felt like it was being strangled by an invisible hand in this moment. The chill coming from deep within her body wasn’t caused by the external temperature; it stemmed from that flaw in her spiritual power loop in her dantian that she had always thought was perfect.

"What did you say?" Her voice was cold, as if quenched in ice. Her previously relaxed brows furrowed tightly, and a flash of shock and doubt—rarely shown—crossed the bottom of her eyes. In this high martial academy, she was the only S-rank genius. Her foundation was as solid as a rock. Even her mentors hadn’t noticed anything off. And this girl from the Scrap Yard, reeking of market stalls, had seen through her deepest hidden discomfort at a glance?

Lin Wan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she pulled a rusty copper button from her pocket and lightly flicked it onto the table. The button spun, emitting a humming sound, then stopped moving on the smooth surface in a bizarre way, as if locked by some kind of magnetic field.

"Because you’re not practicing the orthodox 'Mystic Ice Technique'." Lin Wan’s fingertip tapped lightly on that black card. Her voice was hoarse but clear. "When the sect destroyed the library three years ago, the fragment in your hand was already contaminated with 'Cold Poison'. You forcibly absorbed the information from the fragment, sealing the Cold Poison into your meridians.

Normally, suppressing it with spiritual power might keep you safe. But every time the moon phases switch between waxing and waning, the hidden injury will erode your heart meridian. Last night at midnight, you must have woken up in pain, right?"

Gu Qinghan’s breath hitched for a moment. Last night had indeed been like that. She had thought it was fatigue from diligent cultivation. She had never imagined it was a life-or-death risk. That cold mask shattered completely, revealing a mixture of fragility and defensiveness. She stared fixedly at Lin Wan, trying to find traces of a lie in those eyes that looked deceptively innocent. But she only saw sincerity.

"Who exactly are you?" Gu Qinghan finally spoke. Her tone was no longer condescending; it carried a hint of inquiry. "How does a junk collector know the sect’s secrets?"

In the corner, A Tu was silently wiping a bottle. Hearing this, his hand trembled, nearly spilling the alcohol. He muttered under his breath: "It’s over. This girl is going to scare the young miss into a frenzy."

Lin Wan stood up, brushing dust off her clothes. She looked out at the widening curtain of rain. The noisy rain masked the awkward silence in the shop.

She didn’t explain her identity directly. Instead, she pointed at the antique: "I refused to sell it not because of the money, but because the Cold Poison in this page can only be resolved by the Marrow Cleansing Soup I brew with that specific 'Earth Spirit Grass'.

If I sold it to you, after you practiced it, you wouldn’t just fail to break through; your spiritual power would spiral out of control, and you’d lose your cultivation in the next exam. Your Gu Family has served for generations. There’s no room for any failure."

Gu Qinghan stared at Lin Wan. After a long while, her tense shoulders slowly relaxed. She pulled out another card from her robe. This time, she didn’t slam it down; she placed it gently on the table, pushing it toward Lin Wan: "One million. The Marrow Cleansing Soup plus the repair service for the antique—I’ll cover it all. Additionally, I want you as my guest advisor for six months."

Lin Wan raised an eyebrow: "That’s too expensive."

"It’s not expensive." Gu Qinghan stood up, adjusting her collar which had been ruffled by the wind, restoring that high-and-mighty look that kept people at a distance. "Compared to my future, this money is trivial."

Lin Wan looked at the card, then at A Tu waiting eagerly for his cut beside her. A helpless smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. A Tu’s eyes lit up. He rubbed his hands together and leaned in: "Sis Wan, take it quickly! We could open a milk tea shop!"

Lin Wan took the card but didn’t leave. She sat back down, picked up the antique, and her fingertips traced the edge of the fragment. There was a tiny, fine blood mark there, the color old, as if left years ago. She suddenly thought of her brother, who had been missing for years. He had also carried a similar blood-marked keepsake before disappearing without a trace.

"Miss Gu." Lin Wan suddenly spoke, her voice low. "Before you decide to pay, tell me. Who did you originally get this page from?"

Gu Qinghan froze, complex emotions flashing in her eyes. She was silent for a moment, then said quietly: "It was my late father. On his deathbed, he handed it to me personally. He instructed me that no matter the cost, I must find the complete 'Mystic Ice Technique'."

Lin Wan’s heart shook violently. Gu’s father? Gu Changfeng? The man who had long been a legend in the martial world, rumored to have been wiped out by the Black Dragon organization?

"Your father..." Lin Wan’s voice trembled. "Did he mention anyone surnamed 'Lin' before he died?"

Gu Qinghan looked up, her gaze sharp as a blade, locking onto Lin Wan’s face. In that instant, their eyes met through the rainy night. The air seemed to solidify. Gu Qinghan slowly exhaled two words, but they carried the weight of a thousand pounds:

"No."

The color instantly drained from Lin Wan’s face. No? Did she misremember? Or was this whole thing a lie from the start? She looked sharply out the window. Deep in the rain curtain, a black shadow seemed to flash past, carrying a familiar scent of blood.