Xue Ying shook her head gently. "No, Father. There's an event at the campus today, so all classes have been canceled," she replied.
"I see. Study hard... if this sect ever reaches a dead end, at least you'll be able to survive on your own out there," Bao Dao said with a heavy tone. He immediately left to attend to sect matters, leaving his wife and daughter standing in silence.
Xue Ying watched her father's retreating back with newfound resolve. She returned her mother's anxious embrace.
Dring... Dring...
The phone in Xue Ying's pocket vibrated. She pulled away from her mother to check the incoming message.
(Meng Hao): "Miss Xue, there is a website from Indonesia. The seller claims to have genuine magical artifacts..."
Xue Ying's eyes narrowed for a split second before she immediately switched off her phone screen.
"Is something wrong, dear?" her mother asked softly.
"It's nothing, Mom. Just a classmate asking to go shopping tomorrow," Xue Ying lied, not wanting to add to her mother's burdens. Her mother gave a small smile and gently stroked her daughter's face.
***
Tabimaru Flea Market, Jakarta - Indonesia
Zen stood in front of one of the stalls in the noisy outer section of the flea market. Before him, various worn-out objects were piled haphazardly—everything from old jars and shoes to rusty machetes and dull coins.
Zen's gaze fell upon a Dallah, a traditional Arabian bronze coffee pot.
"Bang, how much for this pot?" Zen asked the seller.
The seller was a shirtless middle-aged man lounging in the shade. He glanced at Zen for a moment before answering indifferently, "One and a half million. It's an authentic piece from Arabia."
Zen nearly choked at the price. He looked at the pot in his hand, then back at the seller with utter disbelief.
"Old man! What do you mean?" Zen narrowed his eyes. "Do you think I'm some five-year-old you can just swindle?"
The seller remained calm, not even blinking. "You can make an offer..."
Zen cursed inwardly. Giving a fantasy price at the start was just a trick to get the buyer to name the first real price. "Fifty thousand," Zen snapped.
The man shook his head. "Not a chance."
"Fifty-one thousand," Zen said, deliberately testing the man's patience. He continued raising the price one thousand at a time until it nearly reached a hundred thousand. Seeing the seller remain stubborn, Zen set the pot down and turned to leave.
"Young man, wait!"
Zen turned back with an annoyed expression. "What now?"
"Come here. I was just testing your knowledge of antiques. Honestly, I didn't want to sell it that cheap, but since you're young, consider this a favor from me," the seller said as he wrapped the Dallah and handed it to Zen.
Though annoyed at being played, the Dallah's design was convincing enough. Zen ended up paying 100,000 rupiah for it. The first transaction was done.
Zen resumed his search, and his eyes landed on a necklace of bronze coins. "How much for this?"
"One million—"
Before the man could finish his sentence, Zen cut him off irritably, "Stop playing games, old man!"
Seeing that Zen had lost his patience, the seller finally spoke honestly, "Fifty thousand."
"Thirty thousand," Zen countered.
"Deal!"
The seller wrapped the necklace with lightning speed. Zen then bought three other items for a total of 150,000 rupiah.
"Thank you, young man. May you live a long and successful life!" the seller called out as Zen walked away. Zen only snorted, feeling disgusted by the old man's cunning tricks.
Zen moved to another stall, this one guarded by a plump woman carrying a baby.
"Please, have a look, Sir. We have items that are 30 years old, 50 years old... even 100-year-old pieces are here."
Zen observed the three piles of items categorized by age. To him, they all looked exactly the same. "How much are these, Ma'am?"
"The 30-year-old ones are 100,000. The 50-year-olds are 250,000. And the 100-year-olds are one million," the woman replied, hoping Zen would make a purchase.
Zen examined the "100-year-old" pile, which contained old bells, antique medicine bottles, and hanging scales. "What's the difference between them?" Zen asked, curious.
"I don't know, Sir. I just watch the shop," she answered honestly.
Zen didn't mind. However, his eyes caught a pile of metal objects left in a mess beside the main display. There, he spotted a Dallah that looked identical to the one he had just bought from the cheating old man earlier.
"How much for these metal scraps?"
The woman glanced over. "Oh, those are ten thousand per kilo."
Zen froze. That meant for 100,000, he could have gotten 10 kilograms of antique metal. The Dallah he had bought earlier didn't even weigh a single kilogram.
'That damn old man! I really got scammed!' Zen cursed in his head.
Without showing his irritation, Zen began to crouch and pick out items that looked convincing. He bought about 20 different items, weighing a total of 15 kilograms, for only 150,000 rupiah.
Once finished, Zen left the flea market hauling a sack full of his "vintage treasures." "Now, for the final step..." he muttered, impatient to start printing money.
***
Jakarta - Indonesia
In an elegant manager's office, a woman sat behind a solid teak desk. She was observing a series of images on her tablet. Her slender fingers swiped across the screen, finally stopping on a screenshot of a website named BlackMagicReal.
"What is this? Just a simple webpage?" she murmured, raising an eyebrow.
She immediately dialed a number on her office phone. "To my office. Now."
Not long after, there was a knock at the door. After being invited in, a man with neat hair and an elegant black suit appeared. The glasses he wore gave the impression of someone who was meticulously thorough.