I'm Already the Richest Man, Why Did My System Just Arrive?

Chapter 276: Chapter 171: "It’s Done.

Later, Old Jiao chopped down three Ghostwriters on the spot and escaped with his life, dragging a broken leg. He actually relied on his own blacksmithing skills to forge himself an iron leg. He then dragged that heavy iron leg as he fled, and after many twists and turns, he arrived at Yunhe Village and took charge of its workshop.

All the blades and armor plates for the bandits of Yunhe Village were his handiwork.

Zheng Xiu had once heard him bragging at a banquet, telling a heroic tale of "slaughtering his way from one end of the street to the other, blade in hand, without even blinking." He struck up a conversation with Old Jiao and left a deep impression on the old veteran.

Because Zheng Xiu had casually asked, "Don’t your eyes get dry?"

Zheng Xiu later heard that Old Jiao’s son was now doing quite well. He ran a griddlecake stall in a small city, had gotten married, and his wife was now six months pregnant.

"Old Jiao!"

When Zheng Xiu arrived at the workshop, the coal furnace inside had long since been extinguished. A charcoal brazier sat before Old Jiao, who was warming himself by the fire while using a small knife to shave the dead skin off his heel.

Zheng Xiu’s sudden voice made Old Jiao’s hand tremble, and he almost sliced off a piece of his heel. But when he saw that it was Zheng Xiu, his irritation vanished.

Everyone in the village knew there were two people you couldn’t hit or scold.

One was the Scholar, the other, Xiaotao.

They were not cut from the same cloth.

"Scholar, what brings you here?"

Zheng Xiu cupped his hands in salute toward Old Jiao, a gentle smile on his face. "Uncle, I’d like to ask you for a favor."

"Ask?" Old Jiao put down the small knife, his eyes narrowing. "Is this for the Big Leader?"

Zheng Xiu shook his head. "No."

"Then forget it. I won’t be firing up the furnace until after winter."

Old Jiao refused flatly.

"Come on, at least hear me out." Zheng Xiu secretly stuffed a jug of wine into Old Jiao’s arms.

"Eh?"

The moment Old Jiao saw the seal on the wine jug, his eyes lit up. In a flash, he had snatched it and was clutching it to his chest.

"Where’d you get this?"

"Heh heh. You know as well as I do that Chu Chengfeng and I are practically blood brothers. I took it from his room."

’I just hadn’t gotten a chance to ask for his permission yet,’ Zheng Xiu thought silently.

Old Jiao was much more agreeable now. Grinning, he warmed his hands over the charcoal brazier, revealing knuckles that were blackened and covered in thick calluses.

"Alright, tell me. What is it you want me to make?"

Even before Zheng Xiu made his request, Old Jiao had guessed he wanted something forged.

"I want a brush forged, using my hair." Zheng Xiu handed a lock of hair he had cut beforehand to Old Jiao and carefully described the brush’s desired length, weight, and shape.

Old Jiao didn’t pay it much mind at first, but as he listened, he began to sense something was off. His breath hitched. "You want to forge a..."

Old Jiao swallowed the rest of his sentence. He glanced casually up at the ceiling, then made a sharp, cutting motion with his right hand as his gaze turned cold.

He’d spent half his life forging for Yunhe Village. After listening to Zheng Xiu’s description, how could he fail to see that the Iron Pen he wanted was clearly a handy weapon?

The front could be used for painting, but the back was like a bludgeon. One solid strike could be fatal.

"Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s just a painting tool." Zheng Xiu held his pale, delicate hands out for Old Jiao to see and said with a laugh, "Look at these hands. Would someone like me dare to have any ulterior motives?"

One look at the Scholar’s hands, and Old Jiao’s suspicions dissipated.

’It’s just an Iron Pen, after all.’

"By the way, Uncle, seeing as we know each other so well..."

Zheng Xiu took a few steps closer, trying to butter him up with a wide grin.

Old Jiao: "?"

"I was just wondering if you have any materials for forging Divine Weapons hidden away—you know, things like Celestial Meteorite Iron, Thousand-Year Cold Iron, Ten Thousand Years Undersea Gold, or Volcanic Unmelting Steel. Could you spare me eight or ten pounds of it?"

Upon hearing this, Old Jiao’s eyes went wide. He stared at the Scholar for a long time before finally forcing out a single word from his lips.

"Scram!"

Zheng Xiu had initially thought the "Art Supplies" would take ten to fifteen days to make. To his surprise, it was only five days later when, late one night, Old Jiao knocked softly on his door. When Zheng Xiu opened it, Old Jiao wordlessly shoved an object wrapped in black cloth—the "Art Supplies"—into his arms and turned to leave.

Old Jiao left so quickly he didn’t even give Zheng Xiu a chance to thank him.

After closing the door securely, Zheng Xiu secretly lit a lamp in the corner and took out the Iron Pen.

The Iron Pen was ten inches long and as thick as two fingers. The bristles at its tip were made from Zheng Xiu’s own hair.

Zheng Xiu unwrapped the layers of black cloth and held the brush in his hand. It was heavy.

He swung it a few times inside his room. Though a bit heavy for his current Constitution, it felt perfectly balanced in his hand. ’Any lighter,’ he thought, ’and it wouldn’t be fatal.’

Zheng Xiu smiled faintly, walked to the corner, and blew out the oil lamp.

In the darkness, Zheng Xiu bit his finger until bright red blood welled up. Using the blood as ink, he brandished the Iron Pen, making swift strokes in the air before him.

A moment later, it was as if an invisible sheet of paper hung in the air before him. The Blood Ink splashed onto it, forming a crimson flower bud.

The flower bud seemed to come alive, rapidly growing, blooming, and withering at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Finally, the lotus, emitting a faint crimson glow, flashed through a lifetime of brilliance in just a few breaths before dissolving into specks of red light that scattered into the darkness.

The crimson light illuminated Zheng Xiu’s radiant smile.

"It’s a success."

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