Chapter 380: Noisy and Bustling

Since the local deity took Ji Yuan for an ordinary passerby, Ji Yuan did not disabuse him of the notion. He strolled leisurely along the river, like a cultured gentleman admiring the scenery, though the corner of his eye remained fixed on the deity's movements.

The deity appeared even more hunched and diminutive than an average old man. Although he had a human form, it was highly probable he wasn't a local deity who had become a ghost-god after death.

Creatures born from the earth often manifest in such forms, and Ji Yuan was aware that at least thirty percent of local deities were spirits that had cultivated in this manner.

The local deity ahead remained immersed in his own world, oblivious to being followed by someone whose cultivation was far superior to his own.

As he continued along the riverbank, the deity spotted some dark smudges in the water. He used his long staff to scoop up a stream, then held it close to examine and sniff, even dabbing a bit into his mouth to taste.

"No, that's not right. There's no smell. Is this not the place? Did I search in the wrong spot again?"

The deity sprinkled the handful of water back into the river, then hesitated before continuing upstream.

He was clearly searching for something, and Ji Yuan grew curious. He had considered the possibility that their search targets might be the same. If so, Ji Yuan was in no hurry to find those characters; he wanted to see what incident was causing the deity to search so intently.

Although the local deity was small in stature, his movements were surprisingly swift. As a land god connected to the earth's ley lines, he could move very quickly within his jurisdiction.

Occasionally, he would vanish directly into the earth, only to reappear a good distance away, looking around inquisitively. Had Ji Yuan not been an extraordinary individual himself, any normal person would certainly have lost track of him.

About fifteen minutes later, the local deity completed a large circle, surveying numerous areas along the way, before arriving at a large workshop built by the water.

Upon reaching this spot, the scent of ink in the air became much richer, and the river water next to the workshop occasionally turned half-black. This was clearly an "Origin Ink" production workshop.

Origin Ink was the prized specialty of Moyuan County in Tingliang, and Ji Yuan knew that an authentic piece of "Origin Ink" could fetch a high price in Dazhen. Scholars and refined individuals eagerly sought to possess it, yet it wasn't something everyone could acquire.

This was primarily because, although Dazhen and Tingliang bordered each other, they were separated by the sprawling Tingqiu Mountains. These mountains were not only steep and treacherous with winding paths but also infested with countless venomous insects and fierce beasts, making direct passage extremely difficult. It was often safer to pass through Zuyue first before turning towards Tingliang.

Despite cordial diplomatic relations between Dazhen and Tingliang, trade was so arduous that "Origin Ink" was exceedingly rare and precious within Dazhen. A high-quality piece could rival an equal weight of silver, making it a top-tier luxury item for scholars.

Conversely, the exquisitely crafted wooden carvings and lacquered tribute items from Ning'an County in Dazhen were likewise highly valuable in other countries, with older pieces being even more coveted.

For example, Ji Yuan's old huanghuali brush pot, made by a genuine old artisan from Ning'an County, cost just over two hundred copper coins back then. Now, a twenty-year-old brush pot of its kind could fetch exorbitant prices in places like Tingliang or Tianbao.

Such thoughts merely flashed through Ji Yuan's mind. Seeing the production site of Origin Ink, as someone who also enjoyed wielding a brush and ink, he felt a certain longing.

‘Since I’m in Moyuan County, if the opportunity arises, I should certainly acquire a few pieces of Origin Ink to use.’

Similar to Ning'an County's intricate desk adornments, Moyuan County's Origin Ink were meticulously crafted items. The finest examples were imbued with the creators' essence and spirit, containing a sense of devotion – at least, that's how Ji Yuan perceived it.

When such items came into Ji Yuan's possession, he would acknowledge their worth, and their use could even evoke a unique and profound subtlety.

Sounds of activity constantly emanated from the workshop, clearly indicating the production of inksticks and ink ingots. The local deity also slowed down after arriving there.

The entire workshop comprised about a dozen rooms of varying sizes, along with large open spaces in front and back. Ink-makers were bustling about, carrying raw materials, changing tools, and moving in and out, a hive of activity within the workshop premises.

The local deity avoided the crowded areas. After circling the workshop a few times, he stopped outside a very large room and scrutinized the area in front of its door for a long time.

"Hehe, it looks like I'll make some progress today."

He reached out and wiped a smudge of ink from the focal point on the door. After sniffing it, a smile appeared on the deity's face.

Ji Yuan had also arrived nearby by now, still observing from a distance.

With his extraordinary hearing, Ji Yuan knew that the large room where the local deity lingered had no workers inside. There were several such sizable, unoccupied rooms.

This particular room had an exceptionally thick roof, and its exterior was covered with many thick straw mats and wooden layers. Even the large door was covered with two old cotton quilts, giving it a distinctly "warm" appearance just by looking at it.

The local deity habitually glanced left and right, then tapped his staff on the ground twice. His body transformed into a wisp of green smoke and entered the earth. From this, Ji Yuan deduced he wasn't merely leaving, but entering the room.

Given this, Ji Yuan simply leaped over the workshop's outer perimeter, approaching the outside of that room. He didn't enter immediately but listened from outside, while his mystical eye was already wide open.

Before he could hear anything, two workers approached, carrying a cloth-covered wooden box. A pleasant ink scent wafted from the box, clearly indicating freshly made Origin Ink of no low quality.

"You open the door; I'm carrying this."

"Okay!"

One worker ran to the door, pulled back the cotton quilts, unlatched the bolt, and then pushed open the heavy door with a creaking sound.

As the door swung open, an even richer scent of ink permeated the air from within the room.

"Come on, quickly, hang them to dry, put them on the Grade A shelf."

Aside from a sliver of light from the doorway, only two small papered windows allowed a faint glow into the very dim room. The two workers hurried to the deepest part of the interior, practically feeling their way along the wall.

They then carefully removed the ink ingots and inksticks from the wooden box and placed them on shelves. It was clearly a room specifically used for drying ink.

After being molded, Origin Ink needed to be dried, which required extremely strict temperature control and no direct exposure to sunlight. Aside from the quality materials, it was this meticulous attention to every step that made Origin Ink so exceptionally rare.

"Huh? Why is so much missing?"

"Yes! This Grade A section of the room, weren't there at least two hundred superior ink ingots drying here before? How is it, it feels like nearly half are gone? Did the owner come to collect them?"

One worker felt uneasy, even a little panicked. Such a loss would be significant, and the owner would surely be furious.

"This, this I don't know, but the ink here isn't fully dried yet. Even if it were, it still needs to be trimmed, washed, and gilded!"

"Oh no, I heard that many ink workshops in the county have been robbed recently, with thieves specifically stealing superior ink ingots. Could we have been targeted by thieves too?"

"Ah? This! But we were just here half an hour ago, and nothing was missing then. There are so many people in the workshop; we didn't see anyone enter, and doesn't the workshop have a martial arts master overseeing it?"

"We can't make this decision. Go inform the owner quickly!"

"Let's go, let's go..."

The two ink-makers, anxious, hurried out of the room and ran towards the buildings at the front of the ink workshop. As they left, the figure of the local deity also rose like smoke from the indoor floor.

The local deity, clutching his staff, raised his hunched head and scanned the surroundings.

"Hmph! You little rascals must be here! And stealing ink ingots, you must be some minor spirits! Appear and surrender to this deity at once! If you can explain yourselves properly, this deity will be lenient!"

The local deity called out and, receiving no response, sneered. He gently struck his staff against the ground.

"Thump..."

The sound resonated throughout the room, accompanied by a faint yellow light that flashed with its propagation.

Suddenly, even Ji Yuan, who was outside the room, felt the entire structure become "heavier." Through his mystical eye, the room appeared covered in a faint earthy yellow hue, seemingly as solid as the earth itself.

The deity's questioning voice echoed within the room, yet no other sound emerged. But even if the deity had initially detected no unusual aura, he now confirmed something was amiss based on the previous words of the two ink-makers.

"You little rascals, if you don't come out, this deity will burn this room down! Let's see if you can withstand being consumed by raging flames!"

This threat had an immediate and miraculous effect. Immediately, a clamor of "yiyiaya" sounds erupted from every corner of the room, accompanied by shrill curses directed at the deity.

"You little old man, if you dare to do that, our great lord will find out and surely beat you to death, scattering your soul!"

"Exactly, you old geezer! You're just a tiny local deity; we, we're not afraid of you!"

"Right, we're not afraid!" "Not afraid, not afraid!"

"Yes, yes, we're not afraid!" "Quickly let us out."

"Let us out, and we'll go complain to the great lord!"

"But where is the great lord?" "The great lord went north!"

"No, it was west!" "No, it was north!"

"Yiyiaya..." "Wayaya..."

In an instant, the room devolved into a chaotic din.

The local deity's expression was surprised; he had expected only one or at most two spirits, not an entire multitude.

"Hmph! I don't know who your great lord is, nor if you truly aren't afraid of me. But it seems you are afraid of fire. If you don't surrender now, I will burn you!"

The local deity snorted coldly, and his staff struck the ground twice more with a "thump, thump..." sound. Instantly, the room began to rumble and shake as if an earthquake had struck. The ink ingots on the shelves clattered to the floor, then sank into the planks beneath.

The local deity knew well that the room itself was not valuable; the value lay in the Origin Ink. As long as the ink ingots were safe, burning the room would not result in a significant loss for the workshop owner.

"If you don't come out, I'll take action."

A small flame appeared on the local deity's staff, immediately silencing the chirping commotion within the room. Then, it became even more boisterous, with curses, shouts, and discussions filling the air, louder than a bustling market.