I run a casino in the immortal realm.

Chapter 52 Black Mountain Market

The fire at the Iron Fist Sect stronghold hadn't died down yet when the two men had already scaled the west side wall.

Zheng Yifei did not return to Zhao's Restaurant.

Before leaving, he instructed Zhao Wenyuan to close the restaurant for three days, saying to the outside world that it was closed for restocking.

Zhao Wenyuan was a smart man and wouldn't ask too many questions. The restaurant's shareholding agreement was locked in a secret compartment; they'd deal with it later when things calmed down.

Three miles outside the east gate of Sujiafang City, there is a piece of abandoned spiritual field.

Zhao Ling'er squatted on the edge of the field, holding a package. Next to her were three bulging cloth bags containing more than two thousand low-grade spirit stones that Zheng Yifei had won from several gambling dens during the day.

Hearing footsteps, she jumped up, nearly activating the protective talisman she was clutching.

"it's me."

Zheng Yifei's voice came from the darkness.

Zhao Ling'er breathed a sigh of relief and jogged over: "Brother Zheng, is everything done?"

"Walk."

Zheng Yifei took the cloth bag without saying a word.

Behind the Iron Fist Sect stands a direct descendant of the Su family. Even if Qian Hu lost an arm and dared not report it, the Su family's law enforcement team would find clues during routine patrols.

The window of opportunity given to them is at most one day.

Each of the three took out a talisman of speed, and with a flash of light, their figures disappeared into the night.

Heishanfang Market is quite far from Sujiafang Market; it normally takes three days to travel there.

One Swiftness Talisman can sustain one hour of high-speed travel. It is necessary to stop and replenish spiritual energy before activating the next one.

one day one Night.

Fifteen Swiftness Talismans were used.

Zheng Yifei felt the pinch, but there was nothing he could do.

The next day at dusk, the three of them stood on a mound on the outskirts of Black Mountain Market.

Zhao Ling'er looked towards the north of the market, where her family's old house was located.

"Ling'er, go back and pack your things. We'll meet at the south gate of the market in three days and head to the Qingyun Sect together."

Zheng Yifei said.

Zhao Ling'er nodded, then hesitated for a moment: "Brother Zheng, what about my brother...?"

"Zhao Wenyuan is fine. He will naturally reopen once things calm down in Sujiafang."

Zhao Ling'er said no more and ran north with the package in her arms.

Zheng Yifei led Zhang Biao toward the shantytown on the east side of the market.

The dirt road was full of potholes, and on both sides were makeshift shacks haphazardly built with wooden planks and dry straw.

The air smelled of musty rice. Several emaciated children were squatting by the roadside playing in the mud. When they saw two strangers approaching, they shrank into the shed in fright.

Zhang Biao looked around and frowned.

He had lived in Wutong Lane in Sujiafang Market. Wutong Lane was already quite dilapidated, but compared to this place, it was practically a mansion.

"Do you live here?"

"Um."

Zheng Yifei stopped in front of a relatively tidy adobe house. The courtyard wall was made of rubble and was no higher than chest height. The paint on the door had long since peeled off, revealing the gray-white wood grain.

A "thump, thump, thump" sound came from the yard; someone was chopping wood.

Zheng Yifei pushed open the courtyard gate and saw his father chopping firewood while his younger brother and sister were reading in the yard.

"Father, I'm back."

The axe fell to the ground with a "thud".

"Yifei?"

Zheng Dashan rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things.

When I passed away six months ago, my son was very thin.

The young man standing at the gate was dressed in a neat blue shirt, with a straight back and a calm gaze. Behind him was a burly man carrying a hunting knife. His imposing presence made Zheng Dashan subconsciously take a half step back.

"father."

Zheng Yifei shouted again.

Zheng Dashan's lips trembled slightly, but he couldn't say anything. He turned around and called into the house, "Honey! Yifei's back!"

"Yifei?"

The sound of bowls and plates clattering came from inside the house, and then a woman with gray hair rushed out.

The moment Wang saw her son, tears welled up in her eyes.

She rushed over and touched Zheng Yifei all over, touching his face and arms as if afraid he might be missing a piece of flesh.

"Have you lost weight? Have you eaten enough? Why did you suddenly come back from all this way?"

"Mom, I'm fine."

Zheng Yifei patted his mother's hand.

"Come inside quickly, come inside quickly."

Wang pulled her son inside, then glanced back at Zhang Biao with a hint of wariness.

"This is Zhang Biao, Brother Zhang, my friend."

Zhang Biao grinned and bowed respectfully, saying, "Uncle, Aunt, I'm sorry to bother you."

Wang's vigilance subsided considerably, and she hurriedly went to the kitchen to heat up the food. Zheng Yan and Zheng Chongtian pulled Zheng Yifei aside and asked him all sorts of questions.

Dinner was prepared quickly.

Zheng Dashan sat down opposite him: "Yifei, how are things in Sujiafang Market? Has Chief Escort Zhou been taking good care of you?"

"Uncle Zhou was a great help."

Zheng Yifei didn't go into details about his experiences in Sujiafang City, as telling those things would only worry his parents.

He extended his right hand, his palm radiating spiritual energy.

A pale blue light emanated from the fingertips, steady and profound.

Zheng Dashan's eyes widened suddenly.

Although he was just a useless cultivator at the third level of Qi Refining, he could distinguish the levels of spiritual power. His son was only at the fourth level of Qi Refining when he left, half a year later—

"Seven...seventh floor?"

Zheng Dashan's voice cracked.

When Wang came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of hot porridge, she almost dropped the bowl upon hearing this.

"Seventh level of Qi Refining!"

Zheng Dashan suddenly stood up, causing the stool to crash to the ground. He grabbed his son's wrist, extended his spiritual energy, and felt the immense aura that was several times stronger than his own.

His hands were shaking.

In the Zheng family, there hasn't been a single cultivator at the seventh level of Qi Refining for generations.

His son, seventeen years old, was at the seventh level of Qi Refining. He was already one of the few experts in Black Mountain Market, and even the Zhao family had to give him some face.

"Okay! Okay!"

Zheng Dashan said "good" three times in a row, his eyes reddened, and he turned away to wipe his face.

Zhang Biao sat in the corner, munching on a steamed bun, and wisely kept quiet.

Late at night.

Wang laid out the bedding, and Zhang Biao was arranged to spend the night in the woodshed next to the kitchen. Zhang Biao didn't care at all, and lay down on the woodpile, snoring away in just a few breaths.

Zheng Yifei and Zheng Dashan sat in the courtyard.

The cold moonlight shone on the rows of dilapidated sheds outside the courtyard wall.

"Father, I came back this time to make some arrangements at home, and then I'll go to the Qingyun Sect."

Zheng Yifei took a cloth bag from his pocket and placed it on the stone table.

The sound of the spirit stones colliding was especially crisp in the night.

Zheng Dashan looked down and saw a bag full of spirit stones, worth at least three or four hundred.

"This is you..."

"Earned money."

Zheng Yifei said, "Don't ask about the details. I plan to buy a house in Heishanfang Market and move my whole family there."

Zheng Dashan remained silent for a long time.

"One flight."

He spoke, his voice low, "Father knows you're capable, but houses in the market aren't cheap. Keep these spirit stones for your cultivation; don't waste them on us."

"It's not a waste."

"Let me finish."

Zheng Dashan raised his head, a stubborn look in his cloudy eyes. "Your father is just a farmer. He's been growing spirit rice all his life. What can he do in the market? Just sit around and eat his savings? Your mother doesn't know anything else. All she knows is cooking and sewing."

You spend hundreds of spirit stones to buy a house and support us; that's not filial piety, that's using your future as a stepping stone for us.

Zheng Yifei frowned: "Dad—"

"The shantytown is dilapidated, but Dad rents three acres of spirit fields, which yield two thousand catties of spirit rice a year. He sells them for spirit stones—not much, but enough to eat and drink. If we move into the market town, how will we survive?"

Zheng Dashan's tone was calm, but every word he spoke was as solid as a nail.

"You're going to the Qingyun Sect soon. I can't help you much, but at least I won't hold you back. Take these spirit stones back with you for your cultivation."

Zheng Dashan pushed the cloth bag back.

Zheng Yifei looked at the spirit stones his father had pushed back without saying a word.

In his past life, he was a gambling king, a master gambler who could manipulate the game and outmaneuver anyone with his cunning. But when faced with this stubborn farmer who had lived his entire life, all his meticulous calculations were utterly useless.

Zheng Dashan's logic is simple—I'm useless, so I shouldn't spend your money.

This logic is completely wrong, but he knows that forcing it won't work.

The more you push Zheng Dashan, the more stubborn he becomes.

"Alright, there's no rush with the spirit stones, we can talk about it tomorrow."

Zheng Yifei stood up.

Zheng Dashan nodded, got up and walked into the house.

He paused at the doorway.

"Yifei, if you can reach the seventh level of Qi Refining, your father will be happier than anything else."

The door closed.

Zheng Yifei sat back down on the stone bench and looked up at the night sky.

Three days.

He had to leave for the Qingyun Sect in three days; the entrance selection wouldn't wait for anyone.