Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 108

It’s still dark outside the window. The crowing of roosters breaks the silence of Linzi City. The unrest of the previous day still lingers vividly in everyone’s mind. As the roosters crow, the servants get out of bed, wearing only thin socks tied to their calves with string and moving quietly through the rooms.

They begin fetching water, cooking, and sweeping the corridors.

But after all, this is a commoner’s household, not a noble clan, so the rules aren’t so strict. While working, the servants gather and chat.

“The Lord is back,” one servant whispers.

Another maid says softly, “Last night, the Lord tells us to buy more food.”

“Linzi might go into lockdown,” someone replies.

The servants glance at each other. That seems very likely.

“If the city is sealed, merchants inside can’t leave, and those outside can’t enter,” a maid says worriedly. “The fish Madam likes must be fresh.”

Linzi sits on a plain, with only a river outside its walls. Farmers from nearby villages carry baskets into the city to sell vegetables every day. But that isn’t enough to feed the entire city. Linzi still relies heavily on grain merchants.

However, the various kingdoms do not welcome merchants. Merchants rarely stay in one place for long. Many are spies from foreign nations—spreading rumors, gathering intelligence, bribing officials wherever they go.

They serve no nation and lack morals, willing to do anything for money.

So while rulers love the goods they bring, they also see them as threats.

But to the common people, merchants are popular. Most of them never leave their homeland, and all their knowledge of the outside world comes from those merchants who travel far and wide. Without merchants, they lack many things.

For example, needles from Lu, cloth from Zhao, smoked meat from Wei—without merchants, none of these can be bought.

The nobility fears merchants but cannot live without them.

The common people like merchants and wish for as many as possible to bring cheaper and more varied goods into Linzi.

“Madam’s appetite has worsened since she got pregnant,” another maid sighs. “She’s grown thinner, and her face is losing flesh.”

The maids are worried. Since Zuotu took power, many merchants have already left.

Merchants don’t wake up early unless there’s profit. Sensing chaos coming to Chen State, they quickly pack up and flee.

They can do business anywhere. There are plenty of places outside Linzi.

“The bean paste Master likes is no longer available,” a maid sighs. “He only tells us to buy more yellow rice.”

Someone beside her says in a low voice, “The price of yellow rice is high.”

Grain is always expensive in Linzi. Though it’s a major producer, its prices are the highest in all the states.

There are no secrets in the royal capital. If there is a secret, it’s bound to become public knowledge. Zuo Tu has only held power for three days, yet all of Linzi already knows he’s seized control.

The scholars even take to the streets to curse him, claiming Zuotu has no royal blood and is stealing power—he cannot possibly hold on for long. They wait eagerly to see him destroy himself.

Though they don’t hold much reverence for the Marquis of Chen, they all still believe he is the rightful ruler. The lands of Chen are granted by the Son of Heaven, and his rule is legitimate.

Fortunately, Zuotu isn’t foolish. He doesn’t silence the scholars and allows them to shout in the streets daily.

Eventually, the scholars grow tired. After all, they are scholars—good at talking but powerless. Even if they want to “support the Chen family,” they still need a general willing to act.

“What kind of building is this? The roof is so flat—how does it not collapse under winter snow?”

“And the walls are so smooth, they don’t even look man-made.”

“It was built overnight. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“No one dares knock.”

“Hahahaha! If someone comes out now, everyone will probably scatter!”

The fishmonger, smelling of fish with muddy cuffs, squeezes through the crowd. Everyone gives way. He finally makes it to the front, gasps in amazement, and whispers, “Wow…”

Before he finishes, the crowd gasps—the door of the strange house opens!

It’s a transparent door that slides open to both sides—an unfamiliar and eerie mechanism. Before they can even react, a man in strange clothing steps out. His arms are bare, his head shaved, leaving only stubble.

Nowadays, shaving your head is a punishment. Shaved heads mean criminals.

But this man doesn’t look like one.

He’s not tall, but his presence is striking. He smiles kindly and clasps his hands in greeting, holding a trumpet-shaped object no one recognizes.

Seeing that he, though imposing, appears human—no extra eyes or mouths—the crowd isn’t frightened.

One person even shouts, “Young man, are you the owner? How is this house built? Do you really invite a glowing monster last night to build it?!”

The crowd erupts. This is Linzi, their home. Since the newcomers don’t attack them, they feel no threat. They even see themselves as hosts and the newcomers as guests.

“Everyone, quiet down!” The man brings the trumpet-like device to his mouth. His voice booms like a great bell—those at the very back can hear him clearly.

It’s like pouring water into a hot pan. Silence lasts only a second before the crowd erupts again.

“So clear! Is this the legendary ‘voice transmission across a thousand miles’?!”

“No way. He must be a martial artist with inner power!”

“… You read too many stories. If he has inner strength, why isn’t he flying?”

“I say it’s that trumpet thing!”

“I agree! I’ve noticed—when you cup your hands around your mouth, your voice gets louder.”

“But not this loud!”

Seeing they only grow noisier, the man shouts again, “Quiet! This is my master’s property. He just moves here. If you’re wealthy, come inside and take a look.”

The crowd is stunned. “Is it a shop?!”

“A shop? In a house this big?!”

The man adds, “If you’re not rich, don’t come in.”

For the first time, the immortal only does business with the rich. Wu Yan doesn’t understand at first. In the past, immortals help the poor.

But the immortal explains: if he lets the poor in to buy cheap food, then what of the vegetable and fish sellers? Their income would disappear. They might become bandits or thieves.

So the immortal stops selling food and vegetables, offering only wine and rare items.

Wu Yan comes to see this as true kindness—protecting the people’s livelihoods. He would never have thought of it himself.

Someone shouts, “What do you mean by ‘rich’? If we have money, isn’t that enough?”

Wu Yan responds, “The things inside are expensive and rare. I fear that though you may have money now, you’ll be ruined by the time you leave. If you don’t believe me, you can come in and see for yourself. No pushing or trampling! Or you’ll be thrown out!”

Then Wu Yan returns to the supermarket.

The people of Linzi stare at each other. Everyone wants to enter, but no one wants to be first.

Someone yells, “Why are we standing around?! Aren’t we going in?!”

A young gentleman is pushed out from the crowd. Dressed in red robes, he stumbles, nearly falling, then straightens up and shouts, “Who the hell pushed me?!”

From the back: “Isn’t Young Master going in to take a look?”

“Looks like he doesn’t have the guts.”

“Nonsense! How could a young master lack courage?! We men of Chen are no cowards!”

The not-a-coward young gentleman grits his teeth, cursing the pusher internally while saying aloud, “Why would I be afraid? It’s just taking a look. I’m going in right now!”

He straightens up, chin high, chest out, and marches to the square building like a rooster about to fight.

He climbs the steps—wide but easy to walk.

As he reaches the entrance, the bright interior stuns him. He doesn’t even notice the sliding doors.

The lighting inside is dazzling. Normal homes are dim, even by day—you need an oil lamp to read. But this room is brighter than the outside.

He looks at the floor. It’s not stone. It glows faintly, almost transparent. He’s never seen anything like it.

The young man nearly faints, but being young, he regains his composure and walks forward.

“What would the guest like to see?” A smiling woman approaches to greet him.

His eyes fall on her pale arms. Then he looks at her face—and recoils. A scar mars her otherwise lovely features.

Feng Ling knows the scar startles him, but she still smiles. “Don’t be afraid, sir. If I were dangerous, how could you have come this far? Besides, there are so many people outside—I wouldn’t dare harm you.”

“I’m not afraid!” he says quickly. “Why would I be afraid? It’s just a scar! I’ve got one too!”

Feng Ling chuckles. “Not on your face, though.”

He blushes. His scar is on his butt—from a childhood beating with a bamboo stick.

“What would you like to see?” Feng Ling asks. “Wine, cloth, clothing? Rare items? Jewelry?”

The youth is surprised. “So many things? Most shops only sell one type.”

Those who sell cloth only sell cloth. Wine shops only sell wine. He’s never seen so many goods in one place.

He asks, “What’s your floor made of? It doesn’t look like stone.”

Feng Ling answers, “Tiles. Like pottery, fired in a kiln.”

He gasps. “So many! All fired?! I heard most pottery breaks in the kiln. How many kilns were wasted for all this? What about the lamps?” he asks.

Feng Ling smiles. “Young master, do you recall that this is a store?” She lowers her voice. “Keep your questions to yourself. It’s better to buy something and figure it out at home.”

The young man still wants to ask, but she just leads the way in silence.

At last, she stops, turns to him, and says, “This aisle is all wine. If you’re not interested, I’ll show you something else.”

He doesn’t drink, but his parents do—they drink with every meal.

He mutters under his breath, “You never answer anything. You’re just like some mute with a mouth.”

Feng Ling looks at him with a smile. The young lord jumps in fright and immediately shuts his mouth.

Only then does he tear his gaze away from Feng Ling.

When he looks around at the world before him, his expression shifts dramatically, and he murmurs, “What… what is this…”

Stretching out in front of him are countless shelves glowing with a silvery light, filled with an endless variety of goods—so many that he can’t see the end of them at a glance.

He feels like a mouse that has fallen into a granary, surrounded by nothing but grain. His face flushes red, and his breathing grows heavy. He doesn’t bother wondering what these shelves are or how the lights above them stay lit on their own. Unable to hold back, he wanders into the middle of the shelves.

“These wines… are they all stored in moonlight cups?” he whispers as he eyes the wine bottles, not even daring to touch them.

He stares at one of the bottles and notices it’s wrapped in a kind of “silk cloth” made from an unfamiliar material, and there are words printed on it.

Tiny characters—yet the handwriting is perfectly clear, and it isn’t engraved.

The young man wants to ask another question, but the moment he opens his mouth, he realizes the girl who led him here is already far ahead, deliberately avoiding him to dodge any questions.

He can only swallow his curiosity.

Carefully, he picks up a bottle of wine. Just as he’s about to ask if he can have a basket to carry it, the girl hands him a red basket. He takes it, only to find it isn’t made of bamboo—he has no idea what the material is.

This time, he learns his lesson. Without asking anything, he simply places the wine in the basket.

The girl glances at him and asks, “Did you bring enough money?”

The young man puffs up with pride. “I’m the son of the Zhang family. Others might run out of money, but our family never does.”

She replies calmly, “I wasn’t asking about your family. I was asking about you.”

The young man says, “When I shop, I take what I want and they go to the Zhang household to collect the money.”

The girl shakes her head. “We do immediate payment for goods. If you didn’t bring much, better not take too many things. If you can’t pay at checkout, we’ll have to send someone to your house to redeem you.”

While returning goods is possible, Feng Ling doesn’t want to deal with that every time at checkout, so she makes sure people come with enough money in advance.

The young man freezes. Lowering his head, he asks softly, “Would my set of jade be enough?”

He has a whole set of jade at his waist—not just a piece, but an entire string.

Feng Ling replies, “I don’t know. Why don’t you take fewer things first? After you pay, you’ll see how much is left and know how much more you can exchange.”

The young man nods. “I guess that’s the only way.”

If it were any other store, he would argue with the girl. But this place is too strange, and he doesn’t dare argue on someone else’s turf.

Still… those moonlight cups—no, moonlight bottles—are too exquisite and rare. It would be a shame if he can’t take them all home. He doesn’t want anyone else to get them. It would be best if only his family has them.

“Why isn’t he out yet?”

“Did something happen to him?”

“Why doesn’t anyone go in and check? Even if someone just takes a look, we’d at least know what’s inside!”

“Then why don’t you go?”

“What about you? Why haven’t you gone?”

Outside the supermarket entrance, the crowd grows restless. People crane their necks, trying to see when the young man will come out and what exactly he’ll buy inside.

Is this strange house really as harmless as it seems?