Chapter 5043 — Taken for a Ride Over a Meal

Not only that—Wei Zhao had even changed the cultivation tiers, rebranding them as "Martial Warrior," "Martial Master," "Martial General," "Martial King," "Martial Venerable," and the like. Otherwise, if he had genuinely named the original cultivation tiers, Leng Leng would have known on the spot, and he would have torn through the paper window ahead of schedule. That was not a plan Wei Zhao had any intention of pursuing.

What Wei Zhao did not realize was that the power tiers he had so casually invented would later be recorded by certain interested parties, and would even become, many years afterward, a standard set of martial cultivation tiers...

Leng Leng was his only audience. At first she did not take it seriously, but the more she listened, the more absorbed she became, until at last she was clicking her tongue in amazement and could not help interrupting: "That energy jade you mentioned—is it the same kind you found today?"

"That's right, you caught that. Back then on that immortal island it was so common you could grab a handful anywhere. If all my assets were piled up in energy jade, I'd guess it would make at least a small hill." Wei Zhao chuckled.

In truth, it was more than a small hill. His present wealth was already comparable to that of a major power—after all, he could casually refine a few high-grade pills and sell them for astronomical prices. That was the beauty of being a high-level alchemist: they lacked everything except spirit jade.

"Braggart." Leng Leng burst out laughing, though she still said, "The story is certainly interesting, but don't try to entertain me. You must have heard all this from some storyteller—I know the mortal world has plenty of those."

Wei Zhao smiled at that. His tongue had slipped. In truth, he had deliberately told her these things not simply to pass the time, but to let her gradually come to know him and accept him. That way there would at least be a step-by-step process, and she would not be overwhelmed all at once.

Still, Leng Leng's reaction only reinforced something for Wei Zhao: these experts at the Heaven's Dao stage from the third plane had no knowledge whatsoever of Cloud-Tier Island. He simply could not determine whether they had no idea Cloud-Tier Island even existed, or whether, as in the mortal world, legends of Heaven's Secret Island circulated but no one could ever reach it.

The two of them ate and chatted, and when they had eaten their fill, Wei Zhao and his companion went to the counter to settle the bill.

"That will be twelve thousand eight hundred and thirty-five. Let's forget the small change—twelve thousand eight hundred." The proprietress still had a certain mature charm about her. Yet the owner standing beside her was a burly, fierce-looking brute who, at first glance, did not look like a man running a business at all, but rather a thug from the underworld.

"Twelve thousand eight hundred?" Wei Zhao was stunned. He had not calculated carefully when ordering, but a rough estimate put the meal at three or four hundred at most. How could it possibly be twelve thousand eight hundred?

"That's right. Here is the menu you ordered from, sir. There's a calculator here—if you don't believe it, you can work it out yourself. Our establishment has always been honest with young and old alike; we never cheat anyone," the proprietress said with a smile.

Wei Zhao glanced at her. If he truly wanted to calculate this, he would not need a calculator at all—it was simple mental arithmetic. He said coolly, "Three hundred and ninety-six. Would you like me to work it out for you step by step?"

"No need. I think you've misunderstood, sir. Please take another careful look at the price list—look at the sentence noted at the very bottom," the proprietress said, her face still wreathed in a warm, beaming smile.

"The seafood above is priced individually?" Wei Zhao was slightly taken aback. Normally things were priced by the plate—who priced them by the piece?

"Just so, sir. Take this mango conch you ordered—marked at ninety-eight. There are sixty in a plate, so that comes to five thousand eight hundred and eighty. And this top-grade immortal shrimp, marked at seventy-two, also sixty to a plate, so that's four thousand three hundred and twenty. Those two alone already come to ten thousand two hundred. Add the other dishes, and twelve thousand eight hundred is quite fair and reasonable, wouldn't you say?" The proprietress smiled warmly and kindly, and even gave one a faint impression of sincerity.

"You call that fair and reasonable?" Leng Leng was on the verge of erupting. She did not understand such things and had no clear sense of prices in the mortal world's currency, but from Wei Zhao's words she knew they were being fleeced. It had been only three hundred and ninety-six, and in an instant it became twelve thousand eight hundred—what kind of business operated like that?

She had rather liked this seafood restaurant for its distinctive flavor, and had felt a touch of goodwill toward it; now it turned to full-blown fury in an instant. This was no seafood restaurant—it was plainly a den of thieves!

"Mind your tone. Every price in this establishment is written plainly on the price list. You surely looked at it before ordering, and since you ordered these dishes, naturally you must pay the corresponding price. How is that not fair and reasonable?" The proprietress's face went cold.

"Hey, you two aren't thinking of dining and dashing, are you? Boys, keep an eye on them for me!" The ferocious-looking owner immediately bellowed a threat, and several petty thugs at the door answered with chuckles, each hefting a wooden bench and eyeing Wei Zhao and Leng Leng with ill intent.

Leng Leng was about to strike at once—a few small-time mortal thugs were naturally nothing in her eyes—but Wei Zhao, without any change in expression, held her back and looked calmly at the proprietress. "Fine. Twelve thousand eight hundred it is. I can afford that much."

As he spoke, Wei Zhao drew out a thick wad of cash and paid. Across from him, the owner and proprietress exchanged a glance, and their eyes lit up at once. Beaming, they said, "Now that's more like it. Anyone can see at a glance that you're a man of means, sir—how could a trifling sum like this be beyond you?"

So they said aloud, while inwardly laughing at the fool who was putting on a brave front, pretending to be fat when he was swollen—for fear of losing face before his female companion, he would grit his teeth and obediently comply even knowing he was being slaughtered. This time they had picked their mark perfectly.

The seafood restaurant the husband and wife ran was not actually a den of thieves. Ordinarily they did honest business; only when they encountered an outsider like Wei Zhao—with a provincial accent—and one accompanied by a woman, would they cut deep.

Yet they never cheated locals. Otherwise, even with a gang of thugs to keep the peace, the business could not have lasted—locals could easily rally a crowd to make trouble. Only outsiders with no connections made the ideal fat sheep, especially those rich types trying to play the big shot. Every one of them was timid to the core and preferred to avoid trouble rather than seek it, so they were practically a sure thing with every shakedown. (To be continued.)

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