Quote of the Day: "Price is what you pay. Value is what you get. Do not confuse the two, especially when selling pain."
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The jar of catalytic solution sat on the counter between Lin Feng and Elder Bai, its unglazed clay seeming to hum with a dangerous new potential. The disciple Liang's successful, if agonizing, treatment was a single data point. It proved efficacy. Now, they needed a business model.
"We cannot sell this as a tea," Lin Feng stated, his finger tracing the rough rim of the jar. "It is a specialized tool. A pharmaceutical-grade reagent. Its market is not the casual cultivator, but the desperate one, or the alchemist who understands its properties."
Elder Bai looked at the jar with trepidation. "To market such a potent, untested substance... the Pavilion would call it reckless. If it harms someone—"
"If it harms someone who uses it incorrectly, that is a failure of their discernment, not our product," Lin Feng countered, his voice cold. "We will provide clear instructions. A single drop per gallon of liquid, used only as a catalytic finisher. We are not healers; we are suppliers. We sell the knife; we are not responsible for how they stab themselves."
The logic was airtight, and utterly devoid of compassion. It was the same logic he'd used to sell complex financial derivatives that ruined companies. The product was sound; the user's incompetence was their own liability.
[Karma Score Decreased!]
[Trait 'Moral Flexibility' has been acknowledged.]
[Trait 'Utilitarian View of Life' has been reinforced.]
[Dao Heart Stability: 16/100.]
The System's judgment was a familiar, icy whisper in his soul. He was being penalized for his core competency. The frustration was a slow-burning acid in his gut. To survive, he had to be ruthless. To advance, he had to be kind. The System demanded a schizophrenic business strategy.
"Then... what is the price?" Elder Bai asked, resigned.
Lin Feng calculated. The jar contained roughly five hundred drops. The raw materials were worthless—a failed experiment. The value was entirely in the proprietary process and the dramatic result. It was a luxury good for a niche, desperate market.
"Fifty Spirit Stones per drop," Lin Feng declared.
Elder Bai choked on air. "Fifty?! Feng'er, that's... that's the price of a mid-grade healing pill! No one will pay that for a... a drop of vinegar!"
"They will," Lin Feng said, his gaze unwavering. "When the alternative is a Qi blockage that halts their cultivation for months, or a costly procedure from the Pavilion that costs twice as much, they will. We are not selling the liquid. We are selling time. We are selling progress."
He inscribed a new sign, his characters sharp and uncompromising:
"Qi-Blockage Catalytic Agent."
"For Stubborn Meridian & Dantian Obstructions."
"One Drop Guarantees Dispersal."
"Warning: High Potency. Significant Discomfort. Use With Caution."
"Price: 50 Spirit Stones per dose. Consultation Required."
He propped the sign outside. It was a gauntlet thrown at the feet of the entire market.
For hours, cultivators passed. Some laughed. Some shook their heads in disbelief. Most ignored it entirely. The reputation of the "Serene Heart Teahouse" was too poor, the price too absurd.
Then, as the afternoon light began to wane, a man arrived. He was not a young disciple. He was a grizzled, middle-aged rogue cultivator, his robes stained from travel, his face etched with the scars of a hundred battles and a recent, profound frustration. His aura was strong, at the peak of Qi Condensation, but it was choked, like a powerful engine flooded with fuel. He stared at the sign for a full minute, his jaw working.
He pushed inside, his eyes sweeping the room and landing on Lin Feng. "You. Boy. This sign. Is this a joke?"
"It is not," Lin Feng replied, meeting the man's intense gaze without flinching. "The product is as described."
"I've been to three alchemists," the cultivator snarled, slamming a fist on the counter. The wood groaned. "I took their pills. I drank their teas. This blockage in my lower dantian remains. It's cost me over a hundred stones already. And you claim one drop of... of whatever is in that jar will clear it?"
"I do," Lin Feng said. "The method is unorthodox. It is not a gentle purge. It is a forced fragmentation. The process will be painful. If you are not willing to endure that, leave."
The cultivator, who gave his name as Jian, studied Lin Feng. He wasn't looking for kindness; he was looking for results. He saw the cold certainty in Lin Feng's eyes, the utter lack of a salesman's guile. This was not a man trying to trick him; this was a man stating a fact.
"Fifty stones," Jian muttered. "For pain."
"Fifty stones for a cleared pathway," Lin Feng corrected. "The pain is merely the delivery mechanism."
Jian grunted, a sound of grim amusement. He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, clinking pouch. He counted out fifty Spirit Stones onto the counter. They glimmered, a small fortune that represented the entire, desperate gamble.
"Give me the dose."
Lin Feng prepared it with the same clinical precision as before. A single drop of the dark liquid into a cup of water. "Drink it here."
Jian didn't hesitate. He threw it back like a shot of strong liquor.
The effect was even more violent than with the young disciple. Jian was a higher level cultivator, and his blockage was denser, more entrenched. He didn't cry out; he let out a guttural roar, his body seizing as visible cracks of spiritual light seemed to appear across his torso. The cups on the shelves rattled. Elder Bai took a step back, his face pale.
Lin Feng watched, his [Meridian Sight] active, analyzing the reaction. It was working. The catalytic Qi was like a precision demolition charge, shattering the monolithic blockage into a swirling, manageable cloud.
Jian collapsed to one knee, vomiting a thick, tar-like substance. He gasped for air, his body trembling with aftershocks. But when he looked up, his eyes were clear. The frustrated, choked aura was gone, replaced by a roaring, unimpeded flow of powerful Qi. He had broken through. Not to a new realm, but through the wall that had been holding him back.
"By the Heavens..." Jian whispered, awe in his voice. He looked at the empty cup, then at the jar, then at Lin Feng. "It... it actually worked."
He stood up, his movements fluid where before they had been stiff. He bowed deeply, a gesture of respect from a hardened man to a master of a strange craft. "You have my thanks. And my business."
He turned and left, walking with a new, powerful stride.
Lin Feng looked at the fifty Spirit Stones on the counter. The first real capital he had generated. It was a trickle, but it proved the model.
[Capital Score Increased! 62/1000.]
[Karma Score Increased!]
[Trait 'Decisiveness' has been acknowledged.]
[Trait 'Vulnerability Shield' has been balanced with 'Sincerity (Selectivity)'.]
[Dao Heart Stability: 20/100.]
[New Passive Unlocked: 'Value Perception'. Host can intuitively gauge the maximum price a customer is willing to pay for a solution to their problem.]
The rewards were significant. The Capital was lifeblood. The Karma increase was a relief. The new passive was a powerful sales tool. He had navigated the transaction perfectly, satisfying both the System's morality and his own greed.
But as he reached for the stones, a wave of dizziness hit him. A profound spiritual fatigue, deeper than any physical tiredness. It felt as if a thread of his own vitality had been pulled loose.
[System Alert: Host has facilitated a major spiritual unblocking.]
[Side-effect: Minor Karmic Burden incurred from directing another's violent cultivation path.]
[Penalty: Temporary 5% reduction in Qi reserve cap. Lasts 24 hours.]
He stared at the notification. So, this was the hidden cost. The System didn't just reward good behavior; it penalized the consequences of his actions, even the profitable ones. By selling a tool that caused such a violent change, he was taking on a sliver of the spiritual backlash. It was a Karmic tax.
He had his product. He had his first major sale. But now he understood the true economy. Every transaction in this world was not just an exchange of currency, but an exchange of fate, of Karma.
He had fifty Spirit Stones. And he had the chilling knowledge that if he sold too much of his brutal solution, he might drain his own spiritual potential before he could even spend his earnings.
The path to profit was paved with more than just stones. It was paved with his own soul, and the System was the toll keeper.