Chapter 49 - 46 : The Price Of Growth (1)

Chapter 49: Chapter 46 : The Price Of Growth (1)

Ethan counted his money twice. The second count did not make the amount any larger. He placed the coins back on the table and looked at them for a while. The room was quiet. Morning light had only just begun to enter through the window, leaving most of the room in shadow.

Ethan reached for his journal. He opened it to the page where he had been keeping track of his expenses.

Food.

Lodging.

Horse care.

Cultivation resources.

The occasional recovery aid.

Small expenses had a way of becoming large when they were repeated every day. Ethan tapped the table with one finger. His ordinary work was enough to survive. That was the problem. Survival was not the same as growth.

A few days of work could cover his meals and lodging. A little more could pay for his horse and some common supplies. But cultivation was different. The stronger his body became, the more he needed. Better resources cost more. Recovery cost more.

Even time had become something he had to consider.If he spent an entire day carrying goods for a few coins, he earned money, but he lost a day that could have been spent cultivating or pursuing a better opportunity. Ethan closed the journal.

He had already understood the answer. He needed better work. Not more work, better work. He stood and put the coins away. Then he checked the small bag containing his remaining supplies.

The Traveler’s Strength Brew was still there. The reddish-brown herb was nearly finished. His cultivation materials were also getting low. Ethan looked at the bag for another moment before tying it shut. He had no intention of spending everything before earning more. That would be foolish. He picked up his short dao.

Today, he would start by asking questions.

The city was already awake when Ethan stepped outside. The streets were different from the way they had been at night. People moved in every direction. Merchants opened their stalls. Workers pushed carts through the wider roads. Horses pulled loaded wagons toward the market district. Several cultivators passed through the crowd without drawing much attention.

Ethan walked slowly. He was not looking for a particular person. He was looking for information. That was often more useful.

He had learned that quickly after entering the city. A person could ask ten questions and receive ten useless answers. But if he watched what people did, he could often find the answer without asking at all.

He passed a large merchant wagon. The driver was arguing with two workers about a missing crate. Ethan continued walking. A little farther ahead, several merchants were gathered outside a store. Their voices were low.

"The western road again?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Three days ago."

"Then it isn’t random."

Ethan kept walking. He did not turn his head.

A few streets later, he stopped at a provisions stall. The same kind of stall where he had previously purchased the Traveler’s Strength Brew.

The owner recognized him.

"You again."

Ethan smiled. "Your brew was useful."

The man nodded proudly.

"I told you."

Ethan looked over the goods.

"How has business been?"

The man’s expression changed slightly.

"Could be better."

"Because of the western road?"

The man looked at Ethan.

"You heard about that?"

"A little."

The shopkeeper leaned closer.

"Then you already know more than most people."

Ethan did not respond. The man glanced around before continuing.

"Merchants have been avoiding the western route."

"Bandits?"

"That’s what people say."

"How many?"

The shopkeeper shrugged.

"Enough."

"That isn’t a number."

The man laughed.

"You think I count bandits for a living?"

Ethan smiled.

"fair enough."

"Good."

The man returned his attention to the stall.

"Whatever they have out there, they are causing trouble. Caravans are turning back. Some are taking the southern road instead."

"Longer?"

"Much longer."

Ethan nodded. That explained the merchant’s expression. A longer road meant more food. More guards. More time. More money. And merchants would eventually raise their prices to compensate.

Ethan looked at the goods again.

"Has the city done anything?"

"The Prefect has."

Ethan’s eyes moved toward him.

"The Prefect?"

The shopkeeper nodded.

"There have been patrols. More guards at the western gate. Some merchant groups are demanding protection."

"Did it help?"

The man gave a dry laugh.

"Apparently not enough."

Ethan considered that.

"Why?"

The shopkeeper lowered his voice.

"Because the bandits aren’t just stealing wagons anymore."

"What are they doing?"

"They are stopping the road."

Ethan waited.

"They block the route, attack the guards, take what they want, and leave. Then they disappear before anyone can organize a proper response."

"Organized?"

The shopkeeper nodded.

"That is what people are saying."

Ethan looked toward the western side of the city.

"Who do thinks leads them?"

The shopkeeper hesitated.

"Some call him Black Fang."

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

"A real name?"

"No, obviously."

The man shook his head.

"A title."

"That sounds dramatic."

"Bandits are groups of dramatic bunch."

Ethan smiled.

"Fair enough."

He bought another small packet of ordinary provisions before leaving. The shopkeeper watched him go.

"Stay away from the western road."

Ethan raised a hand without looking back.

"I’ll keep that in mind."

Ethan continued through the city. The western road had become a useful piece of information. But it was not yet an opportunity. He needed to know more.

He moved toward the larger market. There were more people there. More merchants. More guards. More chances to hear things.

He spent most of the morning moving between stalls without appearing to search for anything. He learned that several merchant groups had recently changed their routes. One had lost two wagons. Another had paid extra guards. A third had stopped sending smaller caravans entirely.

The effect was spreading. Not enough to threaten the city itself. But enough to make people uncomfortable.

Ethan noticed something else. The prices of several cultivation-related goods had increased slightly. Not much. But enough for someone paying attention to notice.

He stood in front of a stall displaying dried herbs. The merchant named the price of one particular herb. Ethan frowned.

"That was cheaper last week."

The merchant looked at him.

"You remember?"

"I remember prices."

The man laughed.

"Then you should know why."