Volume One: Qin Yang of the Northern Sea Chapter 19: Sharp Confrontation

Feng Bo’s arrogant words rang out once again. For some reason, Qin Yang felt a wave of nausea rise within him; the sound of that voice actually made him want to retch.

Two people followed behind Feng Bo. One was Ma Three Hands, whom he had seen before; the other, he didn’t recognize well. The man had graying hair and wore a traditional Tang suit. His aged face radiated a kindly smile, much like a friendly old man from next door. Yet his eyes were piercingly sharp, as if they could see straight through one’s soul. Despite his years, he exuded a powerful presence—an elder whose blade had lost none of its edge.

Seeing how respectfully Ma Three Hands behaved, and recalling what Wang Hao had told him, Qin Yang was almost certain that this man was none other than the Northern Sage, Sun Tianmu. What puzzled him, however, was why such a figure would ever stoop to curry favor with the Feng family.

Sun Tianmu stroked his beard, a glint of keen intelligence flashing in his eyes. “Young man, you’re quite impressive.”

All around, people who saw that the Northern Sage had arrived hurried forward, eager to become acquainted. After all, his reputation was second to none. Even Ye Meier, who had always been aloof, was not immune. Sun Tianmu paid no mind to the crowd’s eager gazes—he was long accustomed to such attention.

The young girl, innocent to the ways of the world, shook her head at the bluster she heard. “No, I’ve already promised this big brother here.”

Merchants are usually driven by profit. On hearing this, Qin Yang found it hard to believe, his mouth slightly agape. He asked again, “How much is this rough jade stone?”

“Twelve hundred thousand.” The girl replied without hesitation, naming her price.

Feng Bo considered for a moment. “I’ll offer two million. How about that?”

The sudden increase of eight hundred thousand clearly surprised the girl. With the two men vying for the stone, she was almost certain there was jade inside; otherwise, why would others compete for it?

She looked at Qin Yang, a touch apologetic. The sum Feng Bo offered was more than half again as much, and she naturally leaned toward him. Yet, business demanded honesty. “Alright, I accept. But we only accept cash here. Also, whoever brings the cash first gets the stone.”

Her words left Qin Yang with a sliver of hope.

Feng Bo’s sword-like brows twitched and he frowned. He never carried cash, only a card. He called his assistant, instructing them to bring cash immediately.

Yet while his own people hadn’t arrived, Wang Hao from Grand Hyatt International showed up, his bodyguard carrying a woven sack full of banknotes.

Feng Bo’s expression changed dramatically. He had not expected Qin Yang to have so much influence that even the president of Grand Hyatt International would come to help. Though displeased, the situation was set.

A wall seemed to rise between the two men, the air thick with the scent of rivalry.

Feng Bo had intended to use Sun Tianmu’s presence to put Qin Yang in his place, but instead, he had lost face.

Qin Yang didn’t pay twelve hundred thousand—he placed two million neatly on the table.

The young girl’s eyes curved into crescents, her joy unmistakable.

When the transaction was complete, Feng Bo stepped up. “Spending money so freely now? Careful you won’t have any left to pay me later.”

“Pay you?” Qin Yang scoffed. “And who do you think you are?”

The weight in Qin Yang’s heart finally lifted. He owed Feng Bo no courtesy. The Feng family dealt in real estate, while Qin Yang was merely the head of security for a company—their paths never crossed professionally.

Feng Bo laughed uproariously. In Bincheng, everyone showed him basic respect; now, someone finally dared retort, and he found it exhilarating. Competition, after all, made life interesting.

“Feng Shao, it’s only a rough stone. I’ll find you a few more soon, and you’ll profit just the same,” Sun Tianmu said confidently.

Zhang Yiming, hearing Sun Tianmu’s words, grew nervous, glancing at Qin Yang—surprised by his utter calm.

A newborn calf fears no tiger.

“Qin Yang, with Master Sun here, you’re certain to lose. Make sure you have ten million ready for me,” Feng Bo said arrogantly, puffing on his cigarette.

“Me prepare? I wonder how well you’ve prepared yourself?” Qin Yang raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been ready for ages.” Feng Bo had already informed his father, who had given him only one instruction: “Do your best, but don’t disgrace the Feng family.”

Feng Bo waved his checkbook, smiling meaningfully at Qin Yang. “I hope you can still smile after the competition.”

The tension between them only grew. More and more prominent figures arrived at the scene.

Zhang Yiming, Ye Meier, Wang Hao, and an elder brought by Feng Bo would serve as judges for the stone gambling contest.

“Let’s get started, then,” Feng Bo said, squinting at Qin Yang with a sly grin. “Three stones each, best two out of three?”

“No problem,” Qin Yang replied nonchalantly. “But if it’s three wins to none, we should double the stakes.”

Shock rippled through the crowd. No one had expected Qin Yang to show such confidence even after the Northern Sage’s arrival.

“Qin Yang, you…” Zhang Yiming was at a loss for words. It was a reckless gamble.

Feng Bo was stunned, then turned to Sun Tianmu and burst out laughing.

“I accept.”

Taking a deep breath, Qin Yang noticed the swelling crowd of onlookers. The two agreed to meet at the cutting table in two hours—then the result would be plain for all to see.

Sun Tianmu watched Qin Yang’s departing figure, a smile tugging at his lips. “What an interesting young man.”

Sun Tianmu had only come to Bincheng on business, but when his disciple called, he rushed over at once. Entering the open-air jade market, he breathed in deeply, his heart full of excitement.

Zhang Yiming chatted with various company executives. Gao Chao had stopped by as well, especially excited at the prospect of the wager, as if he himself were the star.

Qin Yang, oblivious to all this, shook his head and strode purposefully deeper into the market. Time ticked by. He frowned.

The quality of rough stones here was excellent, but he didn’t just plan to win—he wanted to win in style.

None of this was known to the others. As he wandered, he was unaware that a crowd trailed behind him.

Wang Hao, watching with Zhang Yiming, asked, “Old Zhang, do you think young Qin will win?”

“He must.” Zhang Yiming had faith in Qin Yang’s luck. After all, on his first visit to the antique market, he had found an excellent painting—enough to make him believe in luck.

As he browsed, Qin Yang suddenly spotted a rough stone. Glancing at the crowd behind him, he wondered if anyone would try to interfere.

“How much is this rough stone?”

“Five hundred thousand.” The boss had barely spoken when two men stepped forward, threw down five hundred thousand in cash, and took the stone away.

Qin Yang was dumbfounded. He had only pointed it out at random to test the waters, but events had unfolded exactly as he had suspected.

“Heh, there are fools every year, but this year there are especially many.”

Looking at another rough stone, he asked again, “Boss, how much for this one?”

“Eighty-two thousand.”

This stone had poor quality, and no one was bidding for it—it was clearly not favored.

Seeing no one competing, Qin Yang was delighted. No competitors meant he could buy it cheap.

“Wait a moment.”