Ye Feng 'slept' on the hard tea sacks in the storage room. Of course, as an Immortal Emperor, he didn't need to sleep. He spent his night meditating and... listening. He heard the small mice scurrying in the ceiling, the steady, rhythmic heartbeat of Lin Qing from the floor above, and the loud snores of the blacksmith next door.
Just as dawn broke, the storage room door opened. Lin Qing entered, already neat in her apron. She was shocked to see Ye Feng already standing tall and alert.
"You're awake?" she asked suspiciously. "Most vagrants sleep until noon." "I am used to waking early," Ye Feng stated flatly.
"Good," Lin Qing said, placing a bucket down with a loud THUD. "In that case, you can start working. Change the water in the flower vases out front. Then, refill the water cauldron on the stove. And after that..."
She pointed to a pile of dried herbs laid out on a bamboo mat. "Separate the Silver Moon Flowers from the Morning Mist Leaves. Do not mix them up. The Morning Mist Leaves are a mild poison if the dose is wrong. If you ruin them, you'll be working here for the rest of your life to pay for them."
Ye Feng began his tasks. Task one: Change the vase water. He lifted the porcelain vase. His hand, accustomed to the weight of the Heaven-Splitting Sword, couldn't gauge the force. CRACK. He fractured the neck of the vase just by holding it.
He panicked. He quickly used a minuscule thread of spiritual energy—the smallest amount he could muster—to fuse the crack back together. It was fixed. But now, the vase was adorned with a faint, thin golden pattern (leaked immortal energy). He hoped Lin Qing wouldn't notice.
Task two: Fill the water cauldron. This was easy. He lifted the massive iron cauldron with one hand (something that should have taken two strong men), carried it to the back well, filled it, and placed it back. Lin Qing, watching from the corner of her eye as she prepped the cash drawer, frowned. 'He's strong,' she thought, but then shrugged it off.
Task three: Separate the herbs. This was the true disaster. To Ye Feng, the small silver-blue flowers and the pale green leaves looked... identical. After an hour, he had managed to make two small piles. Lin Qing came to check. "Ye Feng!" her voice shrieked. Ye Feng turned. "You've mixed TWENTY percent of the Morning Mist Leaves into the Silver Moon Flower pile! Are you colorblind?! I told you this is a mild poison! You could kill a customer!" Ye Feng looked at the pile. "They... look similar." Lin Qing looked like she was about to explode. "Similar?! One is a FLOWER! The other is a LEAF! You... you... ARGH!" She tore at her own hair in frustration. "Forget the herbs. You are banned from touching the herbs. You..." She looked around, searching for a task that was impossible for an idiot to screw up. "You... guard the front counter. Write down the orders. Take the money. That's it. Don't talk. Don't touch anything. Got it?" "Got it," Ye Feng said. Taking 'money' and writing. Should be easy.
He stood behind the small wooden counter. He felt more awkward than when he faced the Ten Thousand Demon Gods. Tinkle! The door chime rang. The first customer of the day entered. It was an old woman, Grandma Li, a regular customer who was notoriously chatty. "Morning, Qing... oh? Who are you, handsome boy? Where's Lin Qing?" Ye Feng stared at the old woman. He had to take the order. "What do you want?" he asked, in his flat, imperial tone. Grandma Li recoiled. "Such an arrogant new waiter! I want my 'Usual Pain Relief Mixture.' Three packs. And one ounce of Dried Ginger Tea."
Ye Feng picked up the ledger and the ink brush, just as he'd seen Lin Qing do. "Write," he told himself. He tried to write "Usual Pain Relief Mixture" in the mortal tongue. The result was calligraphy so potent, so full of the 'Dao' (the Heavenly Way), that the mortal paper couldn't withstand the energy. It burst into flames and turned to ash.
Grandma Li screamed. Ye Feng stared at the pile of ash in front of him. "My heavens! What is happening?!" Lin Qing ran from the storage room, coughing from the smoke. "Your new waiter! He set my order on fire!" shrieked Grandma Li. "He... what?" Lin Qing stared at the ash, then at Ye Feng, who was holding the brush with a confused expression. "Ye Feng," Lin Qing said through gritted teeth. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "I... wrote," Ye Feng replied, genuinely confused as to why mortal paper was so fragile. "Move!" Lin Qing shoved him away. "So sorry, Grandma Li! He's... he's in training. Here, let me prepare that for you."
After Grandma Li left (grumbling about "declining service standards"), Lin Qing turned to Ye Feng. They stood in tense silence. Ye Feng was the Immortal Emperor. He was invincible. He was magnificent. And on his first day of work, he had broken a bowl, cracked a vase, poisoned the herb stock, and set a customer's order on fire.
Lin Qing stared at him for a long time. Ye Feng awaited his punishment. Annihilation? Banishment? Then, Lin Qing... laughed. A small, stifled giggle at first, which then exploded into a full-blown, belly-aching laugh. "Oh, my gods," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I don't know whether to fire you or pity you! You are, without a doubt, the worst menial worker I have ever met in my entire life!" Ye Feng was confused. "You're... not angry?" "Oh, I'm furious!" she said, still chuckling. "That vase is cracked, I saw that weird gold pattern. And I have to re-sort all those herbs. But... watching you try to write an order and set it on fire... that... that was just too funny." She stopped laughing and looked at him seriously. "Listen. You clearly can't do... anything. But you are strong. You lifted that cauldron. From now on, your job is one thing only: Hard labor. Lift things, move stock, chop the firewood in the back. DO. NOT. TOUCH. CUSTOMERS. Clear?" "Clear," said Ye Feng. "Good," Lin Qing said. "Now, get the axe out back. That woodpile won't chop itself." Ye Feng nodded. He went to the back, grabbed the axe. Hard labor. This was better. He could control his strength for chopping wood. He took a large log, set it on the stump, and raised the axe... ...and he hesitated. How does one chop wood... without simultaneously destroying the axe, the stump, and half the backyard?
Three days passed. Ye Feng had found his rhythm. His tasks: Morning, lift all the heavy new herb sacks (he lifted five at once, making the delivery men gaped). Afternoon, chop firewood. Evening, clean the back courtyard. He was, he had discovered, an excellent woodchopper. He'd found the trick: use control, not power. His woodpile was the neatest in the city. It gave him a strange sense of satisfaction.
He was lifting his axe for the next swing when he heard a commotion from the front of the shop. Not the usual market noise. This was the sound of arrogant neighing and luxury carriage wheels, followed by shouts. "Make way, make way! Young Master Zhao is here!" A carriage, pulled by four black stallions—excessive for this narrow street—stopped right in front of Lin Qing's small shop, blocking the entire road. A young man in bright green silk jumped down, fanning himself. He was Zhao Feng, only son of the city's wealthiest family. "Qing'er! My dear! I've arrived!" Young Master Zhao strutted into the shop. Lin Qing, who was grinding ginseng, didn't even look up. "Young Master Zhao. This shop doesn't sell medicine for boredom. Please leave if you aren't buying anything." Zhao laughed. "Ah, Qing'er, always so serious. Look!" He motioned. A guard placed a large brocade box on the counter, revealing a 50-year-old Snow Spirit Ginseng. "For you. Marry me. I'll buy you the biggest pavilion in the capital!" Lin Qing pushed the box back. "I'm not accepting it. Now, please move your carriage. It's blocking my business." Young Master Zhao's face turned red. "Don't play hard to get, Lin Qing! My father just bought this entire street block. Including the land your shop stands on. It would be a great shame if... a small fire broke out, wouldn't it?" It was a clear threat. Lin Qing turned pale.
In the backyard, Ye Feng stopped observing. He'd seen enough. Young Master Zhao, feeling he had won, turned to leave when his eyes caught Ye Feng at the back door, still holding the axe. "Oh? A new servant?" Zhao sneered. "What are you looking at, you dirty dog? Get back to chopping wood!" He took a silver coin from his pouch and tossed it onto the floor near Ye Feng's feet. "Here! Buy yourself some meat scraps for dinner!" Ye Feng fell silent. He looked down at the silver coin. Slowly, he lifted his head. For a fraction of a second, the confused, simple expression Ye Feng usually wore vanished. His eyes changed. They were no longer mortal-black. They became the abyss, cold, bottomless, and ancient. They were the eyes of the Immortal Emperor who had watched universes be born and die. Young Master Zhao, a mere mortal, suddenly felt an inexplicable terror. It felt as if an ant, mocking a blade of grass, suddenly realized that blade of grass was the claw of a sleeping cosmic dragon. His breath hitched. His knees knocked. He couldn't breathe. "...Young Master?" his guard asked, confused. Just then, Ye Feng blinked. The "confused menial worker" expression returned. The suffocating terror vanished. Young Master Zhao staggered back, gasping. He didn't know what just happened. "W-we're leaving!" he stammered, fleeing to his carriage. Lin Qing, confused by Zhao's sudden terror, turned and looked at Ye Feng, who was still standing with his axe. She had seen that one-second-gaze. "Ye Feng," she said quietly, "Just who... are you?"
Silence. Lin Qing didn't move. "That gaze... that wasn't a normal traveler's gaze." Ye Feng calculated. He would choose... a half-truthful, ridiculous lie. "Oh... that. It's called the 'Wolf-Slaying Gaze'," he said, as innocently as possible. Lin Qing gaped. "...The... what?" "The 'Wolf-Slaying Gaze'," he repeated. "In my village... lots of wolves. My father taught me how to stare at them. If you look fiercer than the wolf, it runs away. I guess... that Young Master looked like a wolf trying to steal a chicken." Lin Qing stared at him. This was the most nonsensical explanation she had ever heard. But... Zhao did run. "Whatever," she finally surrendered. "Whether you're a lucky idiot or a martial arts master disguised as one... your 'Wolf-Slaying Gaze' just got us into big trouble. Zhao is vengeful. He'll send thugs."
That afternoon, the tension was thick. An hour before closing, the door was kicked open. Three large, ugly men with clubs walked in. "Qing's Herb Shop, eh?" the bald leader sneered. "We heard this place needs... 'protection'." "Go away!" Lin Qing yelled, grabbing her herb-grinding pestle. "Maybe these expensive herb jars need to be 'protected' from... falling?" the bald one laughed, motioning for his men to grab a large ginseng jar. Just then, the back door opened. Ye Feng appeared, carrying a full bucket of soapy water and a soaking wet mop. He looked panicked. "Lin Qing! Lin Qing! I made a mistake!" he shouted. "I think I used too much of the fruit cleaning soap! The... the foam is everywhere! And it's so slippery!" "Get out of the way, boy!" the Bald One snarled, moving to shove Ye Feng. "Watch out!" Ye Feng yelped, pretending to be startled. "Don't... the floor...!" Ye Feng "tripped" over his own bucket. SPLAAAAAASH! A full bucket of soapy water—made from the notoriously slick Lantana Slipperia fruit oil—spilled onto the wooden floor, spreading instantly, right in the Bald One's path. The Bald One, charging forward, hit the patch of soap. WUUUUUSSSSHHHH! He slid uncontrollably across the shop floor, his expression of rage turning to pure shock. He screamed as he slammed into the second thug. CRASH! They fell like dominoes, crashing into the third thug. WHUMP! PRAK! KRAK! In an instant, all three thugs were piled in a groaning heap in the corner. "M-my leg... it's broken..." whimpered Thug #2. They scrambled, slipped again on the slick floor, and finally crawled and hobbled out the door. Lin Qing, who had squeezed her eyes shut, opened them. She stared at the mess. Then she stared at Ye Feng, who was now picking up his mop. "...'Wolf-Slaying Gaze', huh?" Lin Qing asked flatly. Ye Feng looked up, his eyes radiating pure innocence. "I really didn't mean to, Lin Qing. That fruit soap... it seems the dosage was too strong."
That night, after the mess was cleaned, Lin Qing sat at the counter. The shop was quiet. Ye Feng heard the click... click... click... of the abacus, followed by a frustrated groan. He stepped out from the storeroom. Lit by a single oil lamp, Lin Qing looked exhausted, staring at the open ledger. She looked on the verge of tears. "What are you doing?" Ye Feng asked. "Counting," Lin Qing said bitterly. "Trying to figure out if we can survive next month." She looked at Ye Feng, her eyes red. "The rent for this land... it's tripling next month. Zhao's father arranged it. I have to pay Thirty Silver Pieces... or this shop is closed." Ye Feng frowned. "Thirty Silver Pieces." "It's an impossible amount," she said. "The shop only makes five or six silver on a good month. This month, with that broken ginseng jar... we might even be at a loss." Ye Feng felt a... pinch. "Let me see." "You? You can't even tell a flower from a leaf." "I can count," Ye Feng said. (Technically, he could count the stars in seven galaxies. This should be easy). Lin Qing, out of pure desperation, pushed the ledger and abacus toward him. "Fine. Go ahead, Mr. 'Wolf-Slaying Gaze'. Find a miracle. Just... calculate the totals for the last week." Ye Feng sat down. He looked at the columns: "In," "Out," "Profit." He looked at the numbers: "Three copper," "Twelve copper." He tried to use the abacus. He didn't understand the logic. He tried to calculate in his head. One hundred copper is one silver. He was confused. "Why is 'profit' important?" Ye Feng asked, genuinely baffled. "We have herbs. We sell them. We get money. Why count what's left?" Lin Qing stared. "So we can buy more herbs! So we can pay rent! So we can eat! If 'Out' is bigger than 'In', we go bankrupt!" "Bankrupt," Ye Feng repeated. "If Young Master Zhao is threatening you," he continued, "why don't we just... get rid of him?" Lin Qing's eyes widened in horror. "Get rid of him?! You mean... kill him?! Ye Feng, are you insane?!" Ye Feng realized he'd misspoken. His Imperial logic was leaking. "I meant... get rid of him... with more soap?" he offered weakly. Lin Qing stared at Ye Feng. This man... was a puzzle. He was strong, but he didn't understand the basic concept of 'profit and loss'? She took the ledger back, a small, tired smile on her face. "Never mind. Thanks for trying. You're more useless than a broken abacus." She looked at Ye Feng, who seemed genuinely frustrated by his failure to understand the ledger. "But," Lin Qing added, "you're good at chopping wood. And... you're good at handling thugs." Ye Feng realized one thing. To protect this small, warm shop, his power to destroy universes was useless. He needed something far more complicated. He needed Thirty Silver Pieces. "I will get it," Ye Feng said suddenly. "How? Rob Young Master Zhao?" Lin Qing joked. "I will... work," Ye Feng said. "I will find other 'work' that makes a lot of 'money'."