Per their initial agreement, the profit split was set in stone.

For the first six months, Jiang Chen held sixty percent, while the Shen family took forty. After that grace period, Jiang Chen’s share would rise to seventy percent, leaving the Shen family with thirty.

Since this was the first settlement, the sixty-forty split applied.

Jiang Chen was due forty-five Mid-grade Spirit Stones for the wine alone.

If the debt had been ten stones or fewer, Shen Peng could have paid out of pocket instantly. But forty-five Mid-grade stones was a significant fortune, enough to empty the liquidity of a minor clan member. His storage bag simply couldn’t accommodate that kind of volume on short notice.

“Gather the funds quickly,” Jiang Chen said, noting Shen Peng’s hesitation. “I have other errands to run today.”

Shen Peng nodded frantically. “Yes, of course. Please rest here, Fellow Daoist. I will return immediately.”

He didn’t dare touch the new shipment—neither the five hundred jin of Top-quality Spirit Rice nor the two thousand jin of Spirit Wine. Until the bill was settled, those goods were untouchable.

Desperate to expedite the process, Shen Peng didn’t bother walking to the door.

He vaulted over the windowsill and plummeted three stories down.

Amidst the gasps of pedestrians below, he landed with a heavy thud and sprinted directly into the Evergreen Wine Shop across the street.

Jiang Chen sipped his tea, watching the spectacle with mild amusement.

It took about the time required to finish a cup of tea for Shen Peng to return. True to form, he didn’t use the stairs. He leaped from the street, utilizing a movement technique to vault back through the third-floor window.

Jiang Chen’s mouth twitched. “Would taking the stairs really have cost you that much time?”

Shen Peng didn’t waste breath explaining. He pulled out a thick ledger and presented it with both hands. “We have kept a meticulous record of every transaction. Please, inspect it.”

Jiang Chen took the book. A sweep of his spiritual sense absorbed the contents instantly.

Shen Peng wasn’t lying. The records were obsessive in their detail: time of purchase, gender of the buyer, quantity, and price.

Mid-morning, Male, 5 jin High-quality Spirit Wine, 75 Low-grade Spirit Stones.

Row after row, the ledger painted a picture of booming business. However, one name kept popping up with suspicious frequency.

“Shen Peng?” Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow. “Is there another person with your name and surname in the clan?”

Shen Peng flushed red, scratching the back of his head. “Ah… that would be me.”

“Oh?”

“It’s… well, everyone loves the wine you brew,” Shen Peng explained awkwardly. “Many acquaintances try to use their connections with me to secure a bottle—’opening the back door,’ so to speak. Whenever I pull strings for them, I record the purchase under my own name to keep the accounts clean.”

Jiang Chen nodded slowly. He understood the game. The wine had become a status symbol, and Shen Peng was using it to build his own network of favors.

Jiang Chen didn’t mind. A sale was a sale. As long as the silver flowed, he didn’t care whose throat the wine went down.

” The accounts are clear.”

Relieved, Shen Peng produced forty-five Mid-grade Spirit Stones and piled them on the table.

“Fellow Daoist Cai,” Shen Peng said, his expression turning solemn. “Please rest assured. The Shen family values this partnership above all else. We will never play games with your money.”

Given the explosive popularity of the wine, the new batch of two thousand jin would likely vanish within a month. The Evergreen Wine Shop was rapidly transforming into the Shen family’s primary pillar of income.

Jiang Chen swept the stones into his storage bag.

Five Mid-grade stones for the rice. Forty-five for the wine.

A total of fifty Mid-grade Spirit Stones in pure revenue.

Considering his production costs were less than five stones, the profit margin was nothing short of obscene.

“Pleasure doing business,” Jiang Chen said, standing up.

After parting ways with Shen Peng, Jiang Chen shifted gears. It was time to spend some money.

He wandered into the commercial district, looking for a furniture store.

Fortunately, this wasn’t a mortal city. In the secular world, finding items suitable for a cultivator was impossible. But here, in the heart of the Loose Cultivator market, luxury was just a question of price.

Three establishments dominated the local market: [Spirit Wood Residence], [Artisan Workshop], and [Treasure Pavilion].

These shops catered exclusively to cultivators, selling high-end furniture, decor, and daily necessities. Business was booming.

Jiang Chen strolled into [Spirit Wood Residence] first.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a female attendant with a delicate, oval face approached him.

“Esteemed Immortal,” she greeted with a practiced bow. “What are you looking for today?”

“Furniture,” Jiang Chen said simply. “Decorations. Preferably items with functional effects, not just aesthetics.”

The attendant’s smile brightened. “Then you have chosen wisely. In the entire market, if [Spirit Wood Residence] claims to be second best, no one would dare claim first.”

Jiang Chen gave her a flat look. “Boasting is free. I’ll judge the quality myself.”

Realizing this customer wasn’t going to be swayed by fluff, the attendant adjusted her demeanor to be more professional. “Please, follow me. Our reputation is built on our spirit wood craftsmanship.”

Jiang Chen followed, his gaze sweeping over the showroom.

Despite the arrogant sales pitch, the shop had the goods to back it up. The furniture here wasn’t made of common timber; everything was crafted from spirit wood aged at least a decade.

“This,” the attendant said, gesturing to a grand piece in the center of the display, “is our best-seller. The [Nanmu Bed]. It is a favorite among Immortals.”

Jiang Chen narrowed his eyes, inspecting it with both his vision and his spiritual sense.

The bed was massive—nine chi long and five chi wide. It radiated a heavy, ancient dignity. The frame was constructed from hundred-year-old Nanmu wood, deep brown and glowing with a warm, natural luster.

The four corner posts flared slightly outward, capped with carvings of drifting clouds. The bed rails featured intricate reliefs of entangled lotus vines, the lines flowing like water. It was a work of art.

“Note the design,” the attendant said, pointing to the headboard. “We have carved four sockets into the frame for Spirit Stones. This array allows you to cultivate passively, even while you sleep.”

Jiang Chen ran his hand along the wood. It was smooth as jade, warm to the touch. “Not bad.”

Encouraged, the attendant pressed on. “If you purchase it now, we include a full bedding set: a soft cotton-linen mattress, snow-white silk sheets, matching brocade curtains, and high-grade silver-threaded tassels. It is a complete luxury package.”

Jiang Chen considered it. “Can I test it?”

“Of course! Please.”

Jiang Chen sat on the edge, then lay back.

The difference between this and his plank bed was night and day. The mattress absorbed his weight perfectly, creating a sensation of being gently swaddled. The faint, refreshing scent of the Nanmu wood drifted into his nose, calming his mind instantly.

Lying there, he felt a sudden urge to just close his eyes and drift off. It was dangerous comfort.

He lingered for a moment longer, then forced himself to sit up. “How much?”

The attendant smiled sweetly. “For you? A special price. Only fifteen Low-grade Spirit Stones.”

Jiang Chen’s brow twitched slightly.

Fifteen stones. It wasn’t exorbitant, but it certainly wasn’t cheap. In the mortal world, this amount could buy a palace.

If he paid the asking price immediately, he’d be a yuan zhong—a total sucker.

He stood up, brushing off his robes. He didn’t reach for his pouch. “I’ll look around a bit more.”

The attendant didn’t falter. She guided him through the rest of the inventory—tables, chairs, cabinets, screens, lamps, tapestries.

Jiang Chen had to admit, the quality was consistent. [Spirit Wood Residence] knew their craft.

They circled back to the entrance.

“Has the Immortal made a decision?” the attendant asked, her eyes hopeful.

“I’m satisfied with the quality,” Jiang Chen said honestly. “But the price is a little steep.”

The attendant blinked, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Let me speak to the shopkeeper. perhaps we can arrange a small discount?”

A gleam of cunning flashed in Jiang Chen’s eyes.

“You go ask,” he said breezily. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Before she could protest, he stepped out the door and began walking purposefully toward the [Artisan Workshop] directly across the street.

The goods at [Spirit Wood Residence] were excellent, true.

But Jiang Chen was a pragmatist. He knew the golden rule of shopping: always compare three stores before opening your wallet.