Chapter 702 First wage, humble station
Above the pillars were three objects, two of them were scrolls, while the last was an ancient-looking broken part of a chime bell filled with old engravings and images of a flying moth around. It was gold rustic, with the engravings looking like they had been carved out of rust.
Both the chime bell and the two scrolls were covered in a mirage-looking translucent ball that was filled with countless runes that pulsed with the movement of energy from the pillars below them.
Yang Qing took out his token as he made his way to the pillar that had a broken part of a chime bell. That chimebell was his goal for coming here. The bell was one of the baits the crafty seniors of the Judicial Review Committee had used to lure him over to accept the job as the temporary branch chief of the Deer Mountain Range despite his reservations.
That gold-rusted chime bell part that looked like it was inches away from breaking down from its rust and what the vicissitudes of time had done to it contained a cultivation art that wasn't featured in the collections of the main library. It could only be found within this branch, no other copies existed.
The rarity itself was enough to stir Yang Qing's interest. Over the years he had collected a few oddities and trinkets around because of that reason alone. As long as something looked unique, weird, a one-of-a-kind object, he would instantly buy it without a second thought, regardless of whether it would be useful or not.
He always felt like a treasure hunter, finding a buried gem in a pile of rubble. Most of the time what he assumed was a rare find did turn out to be some trashy broken object but occasionally, though not often he would find something worthwhile like the weird clay tablet he had gifted Dean Zhu Lao which turned out to have a connection with one of the descendants of the ancients.
Yang Qing had always loved the feeling that came with unraveling mysteries from unexpected things. Lost knowledge, and skills that were hidden in some mundane rock, a sword skill hidden in some worn-out wooden sword, a broken artifact that has recordings of a long forgotten history, some scroll or book that has hidden something else within it, like let's say some long lost technique or clues that tie with other scrolls that lead to some grand treasure.
He had always been in love with the romance of demystifying things, finding hidden things in scraps, the unique finds. If he didn't have a high sense of self-preservation, Yang Qing felt in a different life he would have made a great explorer of the Horizon Odyssey Guild. Visiting ruins deciphering the hidden tales they left behind, spending years on end exploring all sorts of mysterious realms, venturing into dangerous places to see what secrets lay there but alas he couldn't. He would be too preoccupied with the paranoid thoughts of different ways he could die than enjoy the beauty of adventure.
His only option for satisfying that adventurous lust was visiting cultivation markets all over the continent and seeing if he could find some hidden mystery among the common goods being sold, a phoenix egg that was touted as a rotten egg. His heart would race at the thought that he might stumble onto something worthwhile. It was the reason he didn't like to go to auction houses.
Auction houses had skilled appraisers who would extrapolate a good's entire history and abilities, there was little or next to nothing to discover about what you bought. The buyer would know exactly what they were getting with every major point about the goods completely fleshed out by the appraisers.
Yang Qing never wanted that, he wanted his find to be a raw, jumbled mess with no heads or tails, something that would leave him spending countless hours trying to unravel its secrets. He didn't like being told what was there, which was why if he could help, he would not step foot in auction houses, well that and he was completely cheap.
He would lose an entire month's worth of wages in a moderate bidding war with the less profligate, let alone the loss he stood to have if he engaged in a heated bidding war with the moguls who used middle-grade spirit stones to wipe the dust off their robes and toss it away after.
Once upon a time, when he was just young and had gotten his first pay as an outer core court judge. He felt flush after receiving his 150 high-grade spirit stone pay. He had never touched such a sum before. He hyperventilated, cried in joy, screamed, worshipped his ancestors for a few hours for blessing him with talent, apologized to the Order for all he had thought and done, changed his walking style, and imagined the chaos he could do with such a sum.
He basically went crazy for the first few hours, and that insanity grew every time his eyes fell on those lustrous stones burning a hole in his storage ring. With such a sum, he genuinely felt he could buy a river, a mountain, and the entire stars above it in some place around the continent.
So the next time he had a few days off, Yang Qing decided he was going to go into the world and create a storm by flexing his financial might. He couldn't beat the Order, but he could definitely beat others out there with the tidy sum they gave him, so chest pumped up like a mighty beast, legs wide apart that they could reach from the east to the west of the continent, filled with momentum that reached the stars, carrying the aura of a dragon, shouldering heaven's mandate, Yang Qing made his way to one of the best auction houses he knew about.
He had 150 high-grade spirit stones, so of course he wasn't going to waste them in some nondescript auction house. That was like sending a dragon to destroy an ant hill, no, no, Yang Qing wanted to create as much commotion as he could. He wanted bards to make songs about him, and statues of him to be laid out all over different auction houses to strike fear and awe in all who came, and the only way he could do that was to visit the largest auction house hosted by the White Rose Pavilion.
He was humbled that day. His title as a member of the Order was what got him through the door that door, otherwise, he would not have been able to get in. Receiving entry was the worst thing that could have ever happened to him because once inside he realized the wealth he thought he had had the same worth as a fly on the wall.
Luckily the refreshments and entry were free of charge, otherwise, he wouldn't be able to afford anything in there which was something he soon came to realize. What he had slaved off for, for an entire month at the Order, no sleep, no spiritual qi, had no worth in there. Even his entire year's worth of wages couldn't make the first bid on the cheapest commodity in there. Never had he felt so poor, the lustrous spirit stones in his storage ring turned into dung. He ended up blacking out a few minutes in. His mind and heart couldn't take that beating and he had to be nursed to health by the staff.
He left that auction house, broken, a husk without a soul. The heavens had cast him aside. He learned something that day, which was the Order was cheap, and he needed to accept his station in life. He would never have awe-inspiring statues made out of him, he had to accept that he was but a humble scavenger and do what humble scavengers do, which is to scour around for scraps here and there, and maybe luck out and get a good find in the scrap.
When he started his humble life, he didn't expect to love it as he did, and now it was the better highlight of his pastime. His hands were itching for the next market meet he went to. What would he find? Useless junk or some priceless treasure..
His heart raced in excitement at the thought of it.
"With the amount I got for my ceremony, maybe I could try my hand at one bidding and erase my past shame....no, no, stick to your roots, Yang Qing..."
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