Chapter 24

Under the black cloth was an open large brocade box, and inside the box was not an antique, but a piece of fur.

That piece of fur, I cannot describe my first impression of it. Using words like "glittering and colorful" would be an 'insult' to this fur. I am at a loss for words, and can only say that in such a gloomy weather, the moment I saw this fur, I couldn't help but squint my eyes, unable to look directly at it because it was too dazzling.

If it were just dazzling, it wouldn't have been enough to make me gasp. It was because I felt an unusual fluctuation from this fur—a fluctuation that only cultivators could sense. To be precise, it was a fluctuation of energy and aura. It's like how cultivators see Buddhist relics or Daoist talismans, which is different from how ordinary people see them.

This energy and aura were different from the so-called magical power that cultivators often refer to, because magical power is specifically attributed to humans. If I had to categorize this energy and aura, I would define it as—demonic power.

Because, this was a power that came naturally with the fur, not something artificially nurtured. I made this judgment because this power was seamlessly integrated with the fur, a natural and harmonious blend that could not have been artificially infused or nurtured.

Moreover, this power inexplicably made me feel entranced and fond. At first glance, I couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch the fur.

My affection for it was like being bewitched; I couldn't let it go at first sight, and I even had a mad desire to possess it. My breathing gradually became heavy, and from the heat in my eyes, I could tell that they were already red.

I wanted this fur. At first glance, I was certain of it.

But at that moment, I felt something indescribable in my chest. I call it something because I don't know what it is, not energy, not soul power, but rather a will of the soul. It suddenly hummed in my mind, instantly snapping me out of my trance, no, my intoxication.

Even so, I couldn't explain why I still felt an unusual closeness and fondness for the fur. I looked up and saw the face of the middle-aged man.

At that moment, he still had a smile on his face, his yellow front teeth still glaringly obvious. In the rising smoke, his expression was clear and strangely smiling, but less bizarre than before.

I took a deep breath, and my hand had already unconsciously touched the fur, feeling the smooth and soft fur against my palm. An indescribable strange sensation, like feeling the passage of time, and in this time, there was something indescribable that connected me to this fur.

It was a very magical experience, and this experience could not be put into words. I didn't think it was something extraordinary; I understood it as 'eye affinity,' like how someone might be drawn to a piece of jade or an antique.

"Yes, your item has conquered me. Although I don't understand why you came to me, and specifically to me, you have succeeded. Name your price." I had a thought that even if he asked for the most precious antiques in my shop, including a complete Ming dynasty blue-and-white porcelain vase, I would give them to him.

Money is just an external possession, but a cherished item is hard to come by. Despite the complex feelings this fur gave me and the danger of being entranced by it, I wanted to possess it.

This wasn't a desire for possession; I just felt it was hard to let go, and it would be important to me.

"Name your price?" The middle-aged man, who looked very vulgar, shook his head, giving a mysterious look. Was he reconsidering and not selling it?

I felt inexplicable disappointment and frustration. Since that was the case, I grabbed the brocade box and handed it to him, resisting the fur's allure, and said, "If you don't intend to sell it, I won't force it."

Seeing my reaction, the middle-aged man's eyes flashed with surprise, but he quickly smiled sincerely and said, "Forget about naming a price. Didn't I say before that I'm waiting for the right person? You suit my taste. The price I want might be too high for you, so why don't you just name a price, and I'll sell it to you."

"That's not right," I immediately rejected. Even if I wanted this item so much, I absolutely wouldn't want to own it in such a way. After so many years on the mountain, I received a lot of basic education, which can also be called a code of conduct.

One of the principles is that if you can avoid owing someone, try not to. Greed for small benefits can accumulate into big consequences. Don't believe in windfall gains. If there is a windfall, you might as well believe it's the result of your accumulated efforts.

My response surprised the middle-aged man again. I wondered if he was surprised that I wasn't greedy for small benefits. In fact, I didn't think he would be. So, what was he surprised about? I couldn't figure it out.

"You are willing to pay such a high price for this fur? Haha, do you know what it is?" The middle-aged man suddenly asked a question that seemed off-topic.

"It's the fur of a white fox," I said casually. The fur in the box, to be precise, was the fur of a white fox. White foxes are not uncommon, but this fur was not just any white fox fur. Ordinary white fox fur couldn't have such a metallic sheen or be so dazzling like a gem.

I felt that describing it as silver fox fur would be more accurate, but it wasn't entirely silver; it was indeed snow white.

More strangely, the fox was very small, only half the size of a normal fox. It was neatly and cleanly skinned from head to tail and processed very delicately. But why it was so small, I couldn't understand. Today, I truly felt heartache for the fate of the fox behind this fur.

This was not like me, despite my best efforts to remain indifferent.

"White fox fur? Young man, you're trying to haggle, aren't you?" The middle-aged man said with a half-smile.

I remained silent. Everyone knew the truth. Was I supposed to say it was the fur of a fox spirit? Or, perhaps there are no spirits in this world, and calling it a fox spirit would be more appropriate?

I remained calm, just playing with the lighter in my hand, trying not to look at the fur. The middle-aged man didn't mind and said, "I know what you're thinking, but I assure you, it's not what you imagine. It's much, much bigger than you can imagine. What do you think? Do you want it? Dare you want it? Can you afford it?"

A series of questions left me breathless. At that moment, I found that this middle-aged man, who was wearing a Nike and Adidas combination and looked very vulgar, had become extraordinary, or rather, mysterious.

I suddenly found him hard to read. Why did he have a noble aura in his every move?

But I have a very strong sense of self-respect. Faced with his series of questions, I didn't want to lose my composure. I forced myself to stay calm and said, "You haven't said what the price would be. I don't want something for free."

"If you really want to pay an equivalent price, would you be willing to give me the necklace around your neck?" The middle-aged man suddenly looked at me, pointing to the necklace around my neck. Was this his goal?

I frowned. Yes, I was very passionate about owning that fur and was willing to pay a high price, but there were two things I would never give up, even for my life. One was the necklace around my neck, a symbol of my master's affection.

The other was the dog hair charm on my keychain. These two things were absolutely non-negotiable.

So, I looked at the middle-aged man with regret, my heart filled with an indescribable feeling. I forced myself to say, "I can't afford this fur. Find another buyer."

But the middle-aged man looked at me mysteriously, suddenly laughed, and in my confused gaze, snatched the lighter from my hand and said, "If it's meant to be yours, it will be. The lighter is the price. The fur is yours."

With that, the middle-aged man turned and walked away. By the time I reacted, he had already left the shop.

But how could it be like this? The value of a lighter could never match the fur. I quickly closed the lid of the brocade box, grabbed the box, and ran out from behind the counter to chase him. By then, the middle-aged man had already walked out of the shop and onto the street.

When I rushed out of the shop, the usually quiet street was empty, with only a few pedestrians. Where was the middle-aged man?

A short extra story about great wealth and nobility. If possible, this can be serialized, haha.

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