Small Workshop Cutting is Just Fierce...

Su Qi met Yun Ting’s gaze, his tone still steady: "For now, there’s only one. This was actually a failed product from card crafting."

Su Qi paused, quickly slipping into his ‘role.’

A hint of helplessness flashed across his face as he smiled self-deprecatingly: "To be honest, my family’s circumstances aren’t great. Old Jiang isn’t the type to take bribes either—he’s an old bachelor with no savings to speak of, so he can’t help me much in situations like this."

"Losing a sixth-tier card… is still a bit hard for me to swallow."

"That’s why I’m here trying my luck."

"Though, if needed, I could attempt to make more—but no guarantees on success."

"But honestly, I’m more concerned about the price…"

Yun Ting gave a slight nod, the corners of her lips curling. So that’s how it was?

No wonder this broke kid had the nerve to approach her family’s Yun Huang.

Everything made sense now.

She had already pieced together the ‘truth’ in her mind.

Back in the day, Su Qi had been something of a prodigy, but he’d fallen from grace for some reason. Unwilling to accept mediocrity, he’d turned to card crafting.

Given his age, being able to produce sixth-tier cards was impressive enough to earn him recognition as a disciple under the Jiangxia Guardian.

In a way, the value of a card crafter and a card wielder differed by roughly a tier.

For instance, an ordinary sixth-tier card crafter held status comparable to an ordinary seventh-tier card wielder.

The main reasons?

First, a card wielder’s combat system was almost entirely dependent on cards. The output from the Source Realm couldn’t keep up with public demand—unlike cultivators or martial artists, who could still function even if they couldn’t rely on pills or medicinal baths, albeit at a slightly weaker level.

Second, the card wielder system was relatively new. Deep down, people in Great Xia still revered cultivators and martial artists—after all, who didn’t have dreams of immortality?

It was only later, when the card wielder system proved too straightforward and brainless, that Great Xia’s authorities began promoting it heavily.

This, however, made life hell for card crafters. Like how smiles never disappear—they just transfer to someone else’s face.

If the card wielder system was mindless, then card crafters’ hair loss rivaled that of programmers.

With alchemy, success was success, failure was failure—experience led to mastery through repetition.

But if you asked a card crafter how things worked…

"Why did this actually make a card?"

"Why didn’t this make a card?"

"I messed up the process, so why didn’t the card explode?"

"I followed the process, so why did the card explode?"

"Want another one? Dream on—because… heh, even I don’t know how I made this one."

Thankfully, card attributes could be checked, or else there’d be an entire profession of ‘card testers.’

It was even more absurd than scientific research.

So when Yun Ting saw this card, tailored precisely to Yun Huang’s needs, she didn’t suspect Su Qi of ulterior motives for a second.

Put it this way: if he could master directional card crafting?

Either his household registry would be wiped clean.

Or Great Xia’s rulers would personally tear through space to Jiangxia that very day.

Yes, the rulers would make time to see him.

They’d be worried something might happen to Su Qi on the way.

Not that Su Qi’s cards themselves were that important—but the concept of directional crafting was revolutionary.

Like how the first electronic computer was clunky and useless by today’s standards, but the idea of creating something from nothing was priceless.

With that idea, progress in the field could skyrocket.

……

Yun Ting tapped the edge of the card lightly, her tone probing: "So, how much do you think this card is worth?"

"Depends on what you think it’s worth. After all, I don’t have anywhere else to sell it… But at least let me recoup my losses…"

Yun Ting smirked faintly. Such a rookie—already laying all his cards on the table. Unlike those old foxes who’d spend ages gauging each other’s price ranges, hiding their hands and fighting for every scrap of profit.

"I can only give you 350,000."

"Since it’s a consumable, it obviously can’t match the market price of a sixth-tier rare card."

"Besides, let’s be real—this thing just speeds up about six or seven days of normal cultivation progress. If it were a fourth-tier card, sold to low-level martial examinees, the markup would be insane. An extra week could push you ahead of tens of thousands. But alas… it’s sixth-tier."

"Anyone who can afford this is already guaranteed good results. They don’t need those extra days."

"Otherwise, you’d have sold it long ago. You wouldn’t have come to me."

After speaking, she studied Su Qi’s face, noting his conflicted expression. "Tell you what—I’ll do Old Jiang a favor. 400,000."

"Any future cards with similar effects can be sold to me too."

Su Qi was genuinely conflicted this time—his expression wasn’t an act.

He’d never been sure how to value [Radiance] and [Joy], and his card crafting had been done by feel.

Now, with a willpower cost of 100,000 and [3 Radiance] + [300 Joy] selling for 350,000—and the buyer thinking she got a steal—the actual value was likely between 500,000 and 600,000.

Meaning [1 Radiance] + [100 Joy] could be converted to about 150,000 Great Xia coins.

So… did he go overboard with Little Yuan’s card?

A 1.55 million cost for a fourth-tier card?

Last he checked, fourth-tier mythic cards only went for around 1.8 million on the market.

Small workshops really don’t hold back…

Whatever.

She’s my wife anyway—better keep the profits in the family. Next time, I’ll tone it down.

Unaware of Su Qi’s calculations, Yun Ting was convinced she’d scored a massive bargain. Her gaze shifted to Yun Huang, who sat on the sofa absorbing Source energy, her expression indifferent, detached from everything around her.

"Huang’er, get familiar with Su Qi. No training today—go watch that movie first. You can cultivate when you’re back."

Though the nickname sounded affectionate, a closer listen revealed Yun Ting’s commanding tone, leaving no room for refusal.

Yun Huang didn’t look up, responding with only a soft "Mm."

She was suppressing an emotion called joy.

She was afraid.

Afraid that if even a trace of a smile appeared on her face, this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity would slip through her fingers.