Chapter Eighty-Four: The Twenty-Eighty Split

“Talismans? The kind used to catch ghosts and ward off evil?”

At the mention of talismans, Big Fatty’s interest was instantly roused. By now he could already, with some effort, draw blue-grade talismans. As for those simple yellow-grade ones, he could not even be bothered with them; they were hardly worth anything.

“Exactly! These things are incredibly valuable. A single yellow talisman can sometimes be driven up to several hundred yuan. Blue talismans multiply that price outright—sometimes you still can’t buy one even for tens or hundreds of thousands!”

Recently, Cang Ying had gotten hold of a batch of yellow talismans and made a fortune from them. Hearing him say this, Song Nianqiang and Big Fatty exchanged sly, wicked grins that gave Cang Ying quite a fright.

“Brother, let’s discuss something, shall we?” Song Nianqiang hooked an arm around Cang Ying’s neck and dragged him close. Cang Ying’s face immediately turned miserable. “Big brother, the talismans in my hands are already sold out. If you’re short on money, I can give you a few—”

“Get lost! Do I look like I’m short on money?” Song Nianqiang shoved him away roughly.

Cang Ying looked him up and down and answered with wounded innocence, “You do.”

Song Nianqiang rolled his eyes.

“Fatty, you tell him.”

Too lazy to continue himself, Song Nianqiang opened another bottle of beer and began drinking. Big Fatty picked up a mouthful of food, chewed a few times, stretched his neck, and swallowed.

“To put it plainly, we supply the talismans, you sell them, and afterward we split the profit. You take twenty percent, we take eighty. How about it?”

Cang Ying stared blankly at Big Fatty for a full three seconds, as if he simply could not believe what he had heard. Irritated, Big Fatty slapped him on the head, then pulled three yellow talismans and one blue talisman from his trouser pocket on the spot.

“Here, take them. Sell these first, and then we’ll talk.”

“My dear elder brother! Come, let your little brother give you a kiss!”

As he spoke, he lunged forward to embrace Big Fatty, only to be shoved away at once.

“Go play somewhere else! I’m a man with a girlfriend!”

He said it with solemn righteousness. Song Nianqiang shot him a look of utter contempt, then suddenly shouted, “Kiss Big Fatty and you’ll get rich!”

His voice was so loud that even the stalls several tables away heard him clearly.

Everyone at their table swarmed forward at once, instantly burying Big Fatty beneath them. But their racket also successfully angered a group of thugs at the next table. A big bald man, obviously very drunk, staggered over with a beer bottle in hand and smashed it down on Song Nianqiang’s table with a bang.

“You looking for death?”

Cang Ying’s men were no harmless bunch. Every one of them lived with blood on the edge of a blade. Now that someone had come to make trouble right at their own table, they all flew into a rage. One after another, they grabbed beer bottles from the table and prepared to rush the bald man.

“Stop!”

Song Nianqiang barked the word, and Cang Ying’s entire group halted instantly. Even their own boss treated this young man with marked respect, so he clearly was no ordinary person. As it happened, they too wanted to see what this youth was truly capable of.

“Which blind cur dares interfere in my business? If you don’t want to die, then get the hell out of my sight!”

Big Fatty had drunk a little too much, and his temper was running hot. He casually snatched up a chair and staggered toward the bald man. Seeing the two about to clash, the men behind the bald man all grew eager, clearly itching to gang up on Big Fatty.

“Damn it! Don’t disgrace me! All of you, get back!”

The bald man was fired up, and the alcohol had gone to his head. He wanted, for once, to play the hero, so he insisted on taking Big Fatty one-on-one.

When it came to fighting, though Song Nianqiang would never say it aloud, he knew perfectly well in his heart that if Big Fatty really turned vicious, he himself would be no match for him. At the start, Song Nianqiang might be able to keep him pinned down and pound him mercilessly, but Big Fatty’s ability to take a beating was monstrous. That layer of flesh on him was practically natural padding. Unless you cut him down outright with a blade, then once your strength ran dry, your own end would not be far off.

This bald man, however, clearly had little real fighting experience. Compared with Big Fatty, a seasoned high-ranking street brawler who had survived countless large and small fights, he was not even in the same league. The bald man opened by smashing the beer bottle straight at Big Fatty’s head, but Big Fatty did not dodge at all. He simply stood there and swung the chair in his hand with a howl of wind straight at the man’s face.

Bang!

At that moment, the advantage of a longer weapon was made painfully clear. The bald man was struck full on by the chair and dropped to the ground clutching his face, rolling back and forth. A pig-like scream burst from his mouth. Smiling pleasantly, Song Nianqiang stepped out from behind Big Fatty. Big Fatty was a bit too drunk now; if it turned into a group fight in a moment, he would have no real advantage.

Facing the five or six thugs across from them, Song Nianqiang curled a finger at them with open disdain. But one of the punks seemed to recognize him and whispered something to the others. At once, the five or six of them deflated like punctured skins. They hurried forward, helped the bald man up from the ground, and quickly left.

“Boss, the bill!”

After that little scene, nobody was in the mood to keep drinking. So they settled the account, and the two groups went their separate ways. Before leaving, however, Song Nianqiang told Cang Ying to come find him once every two weeks. When the time came, he would give him talismans to sell.

Cang Ying agreed with great excitement. These talismans were simply too valuable. Even if he only took twenty percent, it would still amount to no small sum. As long as he controlled market demand properly, money would come flooding toward him in great waves—and when that day came, it would be time for him to spread his wings.

With Cang Ying’s strength and brains, there was no way he would be satisfied with his present life. He was a man with grand ambitions. Only the pressure of money had kept him from expanding his power. But now things were different. Song Nianqiang had given him an opportunity. If he seized it well, the day when he soared into the heavens would not be far off.

After returning home with Big Fatty, Song Nianqiang went straight into the inner room. The Ghost King Token and the peachwood sword hung together on the wall, yet the peachwood sword hung slightly higher than the token, which showed plainly that it was even more formidable. Still, Song Nianqiang could not understand it. He took the peachwood sword down from the wall and turned it over and over, examining it closely, but no matter how he looked, he could not see anything remarkable about it.

Following his usual habit, Song Nianqiang sat down on the floor and began cultivating the Maoshan Arts. Recently he had not made any great breakthroughs, but he had thoroughly consolidated the Taoist arts he had already mastered, making them easier and smoother to use. Naturally, their power had also increased somewhat.

As he sat there, he gradually entered a wondrous state and became wholly unaware of Big Fatty’s arrival. Big Fatty had originally meant to come in and discuss how to deal with the ghostly thing inside China Vocational High School, but when he saw Song Nianqiang in meditation, he pulled a face at him and then quietly left.

This was Song Nianqiang’s first true meditative trance since he had begun studying the Maoshan Arts. From it he gained many benefits, though for the moment he did not yet realize it.

At dawn the next morning, just as the sun had begun to rise, Song Nianqiang awoke from meditation. At that moment he felt brimming with vitality, his whole body suffused with a powerful force of spirit. He almost could not stop himself from shouting aloud. He had never expected that this single session of meditation would bring him so many benefits.

“Fatty, get up!”

He went to the bedside and yanked away Big Fatty’s blanket. “Take your medicine first thing in the morning and stop disturbing my sleep,” Big Fatty grumbled. The night before, he had chatted with his girlfriend until very late, so he was now clinging stubbornly to the bed.

“Get up and come to school with me to study. As one of the Five Virtuous Youths nurtured beneath the glorious banner, you dare not study? This is an insult to the Party itself. I shall punish you in the Party’s name!”

As he spoke, Song Nianqiang picked up a cup of water and began dripping it, one drop at a time, onto Big Fatty’s head.

“Brother! Dear brother! I surrender! Give me ten minutes. In ten minutes I swear I’ll get up!”

Big Fatty spoke with solemn conviction. Only then did Song Nianqiang relent.

“I’m giving you ten minutes.”

With that, he went to prepare breakfast—if instant noodles could be called breakfast at all.

By now, the room shared by Song Nianqiang and Big Fatty was fairly well equipped. He prepared two bowls of instant noodles, then tossed the dirty clothes into the washing machine, picked up the spring exerciser and played with it for a while. Just like that, ten minutes passed.