Chapter 4: First Customer
Translator: Tim Editor: Tehrn/Carolin
Ye Mo hadn't even had a chance to explain that his near-level-1 mind-clearing charm was priced at $20,000 before being labeled a madman. He wasn't disappointed, however; his charms were only for those who understood their value—those with discerning eyes who could perceive the faint spiritual energy they contained.
His disappointment stemmed from five consecutive days of fruitless sales, despite significant interest. His $10,000-per-charm stall had become infamous in the Sea Treasure Garden. Many visited not to buy, but to gawk at a charm costing $10,000. His stall was a laughingstock: while others sold A4-sized charms, his were palm-sized, some even smaller. Never before had anyone sold charms for over $10,000, non-negotiable. This notoriety was hard to avoid.
By the ninth day, Ye Mo was ready to give up. He believed no one here appreciated his merchandise. He knew these charms were worth far more—$100,000 wouldn't be excessive—but the local market clearly didn't understand their value.
He decided this would be his last day. If he didn't sell, he'd find a labor job to survive. Interest in his stall had waned; the $10,000 charm, once a spectacle, was now old news.
“Jingwen, this place is rife with quack medicine and miracle cures. You’ve bought enough dubious relics. I’ve contacted a renowned brain hospital in France. Why don’t we transfer your mother there?” The speaker was a tall, handsome man.
The woman, equally tall, possessed a cool, aristocratic demeanor and flawless skin. She was stunning; far surpassing Yan Yan, a woman Ye Mo had previously found attractive. He couldn't fathom his body's previous owner's low standards.
Despite her beauty, however, a troubled frown creased her brow. Jingwen's frown deepened at the man’s words. It wasn't that she opposed hospitals; over three years, she'd taken her mother to dozens of hospitals across six medically advanced countries, with no improvement.
“Wang Peng, I didn’t ask you to come. You’ve already suggested five or six hospitals to no avail. If you’re impatient, leave.” Her tone was curt and cold, revealing her poor opinion of the handsome man.
Her companion, a stoic woman who remained silent, seemed to be a bodyguard. Ye Mo found Wang Peng amusing—so persistent in his useless advice. He paused, then realized Jingwen mentioned her mother had been unconscious for three years—likely in a vegetative state.
Suddenly, Ye Mo realized his near-level-1 mind-clearing charm might help. He began hawking, “Charms for sale! For possession, vegetative states, or physical impairments! One charm may help; two guarantee complete recovery…”
This was a calculated gambit to attract the wealthy-looking woman. If she could afford international travel, $20,000 wouldn't be a significant expense.
Su Jingwen, troubled and desperate, heard of a charm to cure vegetative states. It was heavenly music to her ears. Without hesitation, she approached Ye Mo’s stall.
“Can your charms cure a vegetative state?” Su Jingwen's voice trembled, desperate. Ye Mo smiled calmly. He knew his level-1 charm should work; otherwise, he wouldn't have tried this. Affecting a thoughtful expression, he said, “Certainly. Mine can cure someone on their last breath, let alone a vegetative state. They're passed down from my ancestors—”
Ye Mo began elaborating, but the woman interrupted, desperate, “My mother is in a vegetative state. What charm do I need?”
Ye Mo, inwardly pleased, adopted a contemplative air. “Simple. A spirit-cleansing charm. I have two: a high-quality one for $20,000 and a standard one for $10,000. Non-negotiable!”
“You swindler! I’m calling the police!” Wang Peng exploded, enraged at the $30,000 price for what he perceived as mere yellow paper. He pointed at Ye Mo.
Ye Mo swiftly slapped Wang Peng’s hand aside, subtly dislocating his wrist. Only the bodyguard noticed. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly masked.
Kicking Wang Peng’s hand away, Ye Mo said coldly, “I didn’t force you to buy anything. Get lost! I’m doing business.”
“How dare you—” Wang Peng raged, but the cold woman intervened.
“Wang Peng, leave us. I don’t need you,” Su Jingwen said coldly, then apologized to Ye Mo. “Sorry, master. He’s just along for the ride.”
“Jingwen, this suspicious man sells palm-sized yellow paper for $10,000! Tens of thousands is a trifle, but what if something happens to your mother?” Wang Peng persisted, but Su Jingwen's impatience was evident.