Messenger of Calamity

Chapter 113: Rare Trade for a Stroke of the Brush

“Wes, come out! Hurry up!”

Inside the Law Chamber Academy in Chang'an City, Wes, who had been sleeping, was awakened by a banging on the door. He groped his way out of bed, nearly kicking over the chamber pot, stumbled to open the door, and found, to his surprise, that it was a group of students led by Big Grizzly.

The name itself suggested a Northern lineage. Though not particularly noble—otherwise, they wouldn't be grouped with Central Plains students like Wes, all enrolled as clerk trainees—Wes, being an outsider scholar, certainly dared not provoke these Northern lads. Even when rudely awakened, he asked in a low and deferential voice, “What’s the matter?”

“I want to buy your brush!”

“Ah? I only have one...”

“I’m not asking for it for free. I’ll give you a piece of Spirit Jade!” Big Grizzly impatiently shoved him and stuffed a Spirit Jade into his hand. “That’s enough to buy ten brushes tomorrow. Hurry and hand yours over!”

Wes was dumbfounded. He bit the Spirit Jade, soft with a chilling aura that instantly refreshed his groggy mind. It really was a complete piece of Spirit Jade!

A single piece of Spirit Jade could be exchanged in the market for twenty fragments. His family toiled in the fields for an entire year and would barely gather forty to fifty fragments—this single piece could match half a year’s harvest. As for Wes’s brush, it was a worn-out item once gifted by a young landlord he used to serve. The brush wasn’t broken; its bristles were simply splayed. Wes believed the landlord had gifted it intentionally, and so he had cherished it ever since.

But ultimately, it was just a brush used for over ten years, its bristles frayed beyond use. At most, the pawnshop would offer one or two Spirit Fragments. And yet Big Grizzly offered a whole piece of Spirit Jade—upfront, no less. Of course Wes was tempted. Still, as a poor lad, he trusted no miracles falling from the sky. Especially not from Big Grizzly—it sounded as absurd as rumors that the Court of Liang paid wages for forced labor.

“Alright, but only tomorrow morning, in front of witnesses.”

Wes suspected Big Grizzly planned to frame him—take the Spirit Jade in the dead of night, then accuse him of theft. Who would believe Big Grizzly spent a full piece of Spirit Jade on a used, broken brush? It had to be done in daylight to avoid risk.

“Damn it, you crazy or what!” Big Grizzly snatched the Spirit Jade back. “I need it urgently—if we wait till morning, why wouldn’t I just go buy one from the shop? You don’t sell, I’ll get it elsewhere. You’re not the only one with a brush in this academy!”

Turning away, Big Grizzly left. His cronies spat on Wes, faces full of disdain that screamed ‘you don’t know what’s good for you’. It looked like they genuinely gave up on the deal. Wes instantly regretted it. It seemed Big Grizzly was truly in a hurry. Had he gotten that Spirit Jade, he could’ve gone to Desong Studio for a fine brush—and finally bought the 《Seven Annotations of the Mysterious Sovereign》 he had dreamed of.

But even as Big Grizzly reached the courtyard gate, Wes didn’t call him back.

If he heard tomorrow that someone else sold a brush, Wes would regret this on many sleepless nights. Yet even so, he dared not gamble. He had no right to gamble. His education, sparing him the fields, was sustained by his family’s sacrifices. They all pinned their hopes on him. How could he risk that? It wasn’t greed he lacked—it was the price he couldn’t afford to pay.

Big Grizzly nearly left when he suddenly turned back and shouted, “You lucky bastard—I still need it. Hand it over.”

“Tomorrow.”

“You stubborn little brat,” Big Grizzly and his cronies blocked Wes’s door, glaring fiercely. “Two pieces of Spirit Jade. That’s enough to enjoy drinks and girls in the county town! If you still try to raise the price, you’re crossing the Big Grizzly clan!”

Wes swallowed hard. A scholar like him, weak and delicate, had never faced such a scene. His legs almost gave out, and he was about to give in. But then he remembered—this was Chang'an City. He wasn’t afraid of getting beaten here. Mustering courage, he said, “Only tomorrow!”

“Refusing a toast and asking for punishment.” Big Grizzly signaled his men. “Hold him—I’ll go find that damn brush myself!”

Seeing this, Wes ran back inside, hid the brush in his robe, and crouched in the corner. Big Grizzly and the others, furious, began hitting, kicking, spitting, and cursing at him. Yet, protected by Chang'an laws, Wes felt no pain—only as though someone kept shoving him.

They’ll get tired and leave, he thought. He didn’t know why Big Grizzly wanted the brush so badly. But this wasn’t his first time being bullied. Whenever someone picked on you, their reason was just an excuse. It all came down to dislike. That was why Wes loved Chang'an. Even if bullied, it never felt bitter—because he had hope here. He had to become a clerk in Chang'an—not only for his family, but for himself.

The outside world was too savage. Only Chang'an offered him a place to survive.

‘The grand avenue of Chang'an narrows to alleys, blue oxen and white horses draw perfumed carts.’ Wes silently recited the ancient praises for Chang'an: ‘A bucket of wine in Xinfeng costs ten thousand, how many years have the knights roamed Chang'an...’

But Big Grizzly didn’t leave. He grew even more agitated. Spotting the chamber pot under the bed, he threatened to pour it over Wes. That jolted Wes into action. Tomorrow was a lecture from Master Chen—his annual evaluation determined whether students stayed. He couldn’t miss it, and certainly couldn’t show up reeking of urine.

Seizing a gap, he dashed out between Big Grizzly and his men. They shouted after him but, likely exhausted from their beating, couldn’t catch the skinny scholar in time. Wes escaped the courtyard.

“Wes? Just in time—come with me! Bring your brush!”

As he exited, he spotted his fellow student Han Xian, who waved him over in a rush. Without much thought, Wes followed. Han Xian seemed urgent, urging him to run and keep up, his face glowing with excitement. “Hurry! We’ll be too late!”

“Where are we going?” Wes was confused. He noticed they weren’t alone—the streets were packed. Chang'an had no curfew—nor could one be enforced—but most places shut down at night. The true pleasure districts lay outside the city. At this hour, the streets should have been deserted.

“Don’t ask—just follow! This is your chance of a lifetime!”

Soon, they reached Vermillion Bird Avenue, the city’s main road. The burned-down Anguo Temple was nearby. Both sides were lined with shops and restaurants, and though usually bustling by day, it was now just as crowded at midnight. People gathered at the notice board near the avenue entrance, jamming the four-lane stone road.

“Sold! The Dancer’s Shoes order is gone!”

“No! My cousin’s on her way! She’s a dancer for the Marquis of Huaiqing’s troupe! Her shoes would’ve qualified! Immortal, please post another! Just one more!”

“The Tailor’s Needle order is gone too! Only the Scholar’s Brush and Gambler’s Dice are left!”

“The ones sent to Treasure Pavilion aren’t back yet!? How long does it take to get a few dice from gamblers!? Useless fools!”

The place erupted in curses and laments, leaving Wes’s head spinning. Everyone was fired up, eyes red with excitement, as though witnessing a miracle.

“Get in! Squeeze in—just a bit later and it’ll be over!” Han Xian pushed Wes forward. They finally reached the front, and only then did Wes see the focus of the crowd—the Blackboard at the notice board showed new Immortal Trade Orders.

Though he never had the means to buy from it, many at the academy discussed it. Wes had heard much: all Trade Orders on the Blackboard came from Immortals. No one, not even a Foundation Messenger, could affect the Blackboard—it clearly belonged to a higher realm. And only Immortals could conduct remote trades in Chang'an, the land protected by divine power.

More crucially, only Chang'an had a Blackboard. No other place did. It proved that Immortals favored Chang'an people—the most elite, most qualified to approach the divine!

Of course, the wealthier one was, the more they could bask in Immortal presence. Items sold by the Immortals cost thousands or even tens of thousands of Spirit Jade. Wes didn’t even feel envy—he could never make that much in a lifetime. For him, the Immortal Trade Orders were like myths—happening right next to him, yet utterly unreachable.

He had never imagined he’d be involved with one. Let alone catch a miracle dropped by the Immortals.

“Look!” Han Xian pointed at the words on the Blackboard, shaking Wes excitedly. “An Immortal is offering a Third-Stage Rare Token, the Heartguard Mirror, in exchange for a Scholar’s Brush. A Scholar’s Brush! Your brush! You can trade your brush for a Third-Stage Rare Token!”

Wes stared, wide-eyed, at the text. Two Trade Orders were listed—both offering the Heartguard Mirror, one for a Scholar’s Brush, one for a Gambler’s Dice. He could hardly believe it. “Is it really a Scholar’s Brush? But there are so many scholars in Chang'an—why me?”

“You’re right, brat—it’s not for you!”

Suddenly, Wes was shoved aside by a burly man charging to the front. He clutched a worn brush and tapped the Trade Order on the Blackboard. But no matter how he tapped, nothing happened. The Trade Order remained. The brush didn’t vanish. Furious, he cursed, “What the hell! This is a Scholar’s Brush! Why won’t it trade?! Damn it, that brat even claimed he loved reading!”

“It’s gone! Another Trade Order just completed—the Gambler’s Dice one!” someone shouted.

Wes looked up—the Blackboard now had only one Trade Order left.

“Do it now! Even if it fails, you’ve got nothing to lose! Any slower and it’ll be too late!” Han Xian was desperate. “Of everyone in the academy, you study the hardest—you’re surely the scholar the Immortal seeks! Your brush must be the Scholar’s Brush! If you get the Third-Stage Rare Token, maybe you can become a Messenger too!”

Recognized by an Immortal? Become a Messenger?

Wes held his breath, his mind reeling from this sudden fortune.

He had never dreamed big. Though the most promising child in his family, he was just a scholar, aiming to pass the exam and become a clerk in Chang'an. Clerks had no path to officialdom. In the Zhou Kingdom, only Messengers or their families could hold office. Commoners with no background or strength could at best become aides—used to take blame if things went wrong, with credit taken by others if right. Still, that was the only route to status for mortals.

As for joining the Military Camp, that path was for warriors with extraordinary physique and talent. Wes, a poor farmer’s son, struggled just to eat—training was out of reach. Thankfully, the Zhou Kingdom valued literati—pass an exam, and you could study for free. The nation needed administrators, since most Messengers only wanted power and not the labor. Talented mortals like Wes managed the rest, like stewards managing servants in a noble estate.

But given the chance to become a Messenger—who would settle for steward?

Wes found strength he didn’t know he had, shoved aside the burly man, gripped his brush with one hand, and reached for the Trade Order with the other.

The moment his fingertip touched it, a cold, emotionless voice echoed in his ears:

「Trade Complete.」

In the next second, the brush in his arms vanished—replaced by a mirror radiating a ghostly blue light. The crowd on Vermillion Bird Avenue fell silent. All eyes were on Wes. Even Han Xian stared in disbelief. He always thought Wes the best student in the academy—but didn’t expect success. Amid joy for his friend, there was a hint of envy.

Wes clutched the Heartguard Mirror to his chest.

A Third-Stage Rare Token.

With his limited knowledge, he couldn’t estimate its worth or know where to convert it into resources for becoming a Messenger. But this was Chang'an City—and he had received the Heartguard Mirror under countless eyes. That alone was his greatest advantage.

His life—only now truly began.