Chapter 401: Borrowing Grain

“Actually, whether it’s the Heihu Gang or the wandering refugees, neither is the real issue. This crisis boils down to two things.”

Li Hao adjusted the oil lamp on the table.

“Silver and grain. Solve these, and the problem disappears.”

“Silver can be borrowed from the money shops—they’re handing out loans freely these days. The hard part is grain…” Zhao Qianqian, who managed the Sanhe Gang’s affairs, had already considered these points. She’d even sent people to investigate the matters Li Hao mentioned.

Silver was easy.

Grain was not!

With the ongoing chaos, grain prices had skyrocketed to terrifying levels.

“I know where to borrow grain.”

Li Hao recalled a place but kept silent for now. He couldn’t guarantee it would work.

“And don’t approach the money shops directly. They’ll see through our desperation and make things worse.” The money shops had ties to both gangs and city officials. If interest piled up, even the Sanhe Gang might collapse under the debt. Defaulting meant death.

“Then what? I must answer everyone tomorrow.”

Zhao Qianqian grew restless.

Time pressed too hard—if only they had two weeks…

“Wait here. I’ll handle this.”

Acting on his thought, Li Hao threw on his coat and rushed toward the inner city before nightfall. He needed at least three days’ worth of grain by dark.

At Zuo’s Fabric Shop,

The workers had left. Inside, Zuo Meng—disguised as the shop owner—and manager Ye Chen sat playing chess by the tea table.

“Master, Li Hao approaches.”

Ye Chen, a sage-level big shot in the Dream Realm, could know almost everything in this world… unless his teacher interfered.

“He wants grain.”

Zuo Meng already knew the visitor’s purpose. So did Ye Chen.

“Prepare some from the back storage.”

Zuo Meng couldn’t be bothered with such trifles. His focus remained on Li Hao—this reincarnated immortal he’d trapped now lived as an ordinary person, oblivious to his past. Aside from mild cleverness, Li Hao seemed no different from common folk.

Yet the stronger Li Hao’s “Five Elements” and “Six Desires” grew, the more their influence seeped across Qinghe County. Terrifying, considering even a wisp of this power affected such a vast area. Unleashed fully, it might ensnare the entire Dream Realm, sages included.

The effect worked both ways. Those touched by the Origin Rules grew sharper—their talents enhanced, whether in martial arts or scholarship. But this came at a cost: deeper ties to the ordinary world. Old immortal methods now risked driving them mad, and Ascension became nearly impossible.

Take spiritual roots. Once nonexistent, now even low-grade ones upgraded to medium, then high, even reaching immortal-grade! But stronger desires anchored them tighter to mortal life.

Knock knock knock!

The door rattled.

Ye Chen flicked his wrist. To Li Hao’s eyes, the goat-bearded manager opened the door himself. Inside, the “owner” sat holding a warming pot, nodding politely.

“Boss.”

Li Hao removed his snow-caked cloak, face numb from the freezing night.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

Li Hao felt awkward about his visit but had no choice. Without borrowing grain, Zhao Qianqian would be in deep trouble. The scheming Heihu Gang would seize the chance to turn a small issue into a disaster. By then, lives—not just grain—would be lost.

“Get to the point.”

Ye Chen’s illusion walked back to its seat, merging with his real body.

“I came to ask a favor…” Li Hao hesitated before continuing.

He explained everything, including the amount of grain needed.

“I have grain,” Zuo Meng said, lounging on the heated bed like a stingy landlord. “Why should I lend it to you?”

“You’ll have my word.”

Li Hao had no collateral, only empty promises.

“I’ll return every grain in three months, plus interest.”

Grain mattered little to Zuo Meng and Ye Chen. They could summon endless supplies with a flick of their wrists. This conversation was just a test—to see how deeply the Origin Rules had fused with Li Hao, their first successful “experiment” since the Dream Realm’s creation.

“And if you default?” Zuo Meng tapped the bedframe. “Grain’s worth its weight in gold these days.”

Li Hao reached into his robe and slapped a worn map on the table. “Recognize this?”

A military map. Priceless in this war-torn era.

“How much grain is this worth?”

“Bold move.”

“Fortune favors the bold.” Li Hao tucked the map away.

“Ye Chen,” Zuo Meng ordered, “take him to the back.” The map’s partial details revealed years of planning—this boy aimed to outplay them all.

Zuo Meng smirked, retreating to his private quarters. His fabric shop’s Front Yard hid a secret: Qingmu City had no such building until he’d ripped space itself to plant it there.

“Take what you need.”

The “grain” was illusion—seeds plucked from time’s river, harvested from futures only sages could touch. Cultivators feared time’s flow. Zuo Meng treated it as his pantry.