Damon's Ascension-Chapter 105: War In Xiangyang 6

Snap!

...

Nothing.

Well, it was only a 45% chance, not a 100% chance. However, this was fine as Damon made the same request and adjusted the probabilities again before snapping, and this time, he was successful as the air around his finger seemed to warp like a glitch in a video game.

In his hands was a banknote for 10,000 taels to be paid out to him, Damon Arnan. The source of the funds was marked as the Provincial Officer and the reason was a reward for meritorious service.

Even the logic of the reality warping had been patched up by the Ability, something Damon was encountering for the first time since he had never adjusted anything from 0%, because 0% meant that realistically whatever he was doing had no chance of occurring at all.

In the African instances before Level 10, he had mostly adjusted combat-related probabilities, when he was squaring off against enemies and those either had high percentages if it was in his favor or low ones if it was not, so when it did work, the cost was abysmally low that he did not even factor it in.

But this time, he did feel it.

Damon’s brows furrowed as he made a judgment that this particular reality warp consumed about 20% of his total energy, which was mostly raw stamina at this stage, both physical and mental. According to what he researched, stamina was the first draw and if it was not enough, it would tap into vitality, life force, and other such personal energies until you were drained dry like a husk, even worse than his Devour ability.

He then rubbed his chin, and to the surprise of the three ex-convicts behind him, he walked into the bank to claim his ’hard-earned’ money.

The interior of the bank was a polished stone hall filled with rich merchants in embroidered robes, scholars calculating abacus ledgers, and clerks scribbling down tallies.

As Damon entered with his usual calm gait, conversations dropped by several levels. The eyes of many turned toward this side not in suspicion, but in a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Behind him, Chen Yuan, Sun Liang, and Xue Rou followed silently, exchanging glances as they realized their new benefactor was not merely powerful but perhaps... unique.

Damon approached the main counter, where an elderly banker with a shrewd face and a silk hat looked up.

"How may I help you, esteemed scholar?" he asked cautiously, no doubt still recalling the earlier commotion at the square.

Damon placed the promissory note on the lacquered counter. "I’d like to withdraw the full amount."

The banker’s eyes widened when he saw the amount of 10,000 taels, stamped with the provincial seal and signed with authority.

He immediately bowed deeper. "Yes! At once, sir. Please wait while we verify the note."

As the clerk ran off, a silk-robed youth behind Damon scoffed. He was thin, with a peach-colored robe and a fan covered in gaudy calligraphy, while beside him stood two bored-looking guards wearing polished boots and smug expressions.

The youth leaned in and muttered in a volume that others could hear his thoughts. "Ah, another poor foreigner forging promissory notes for attention. I swear, even the beggars are getting creative!"

Several nearby patrons chuckled quietly but did not join in on the party, rather looking on with interest at how this would end up.

Damon didn’t react at first because he simply wasn’t used to being disdained for something so small in a public place. This kind of thing only ever occurred in oriental fiction to create cheap conflict that stirred the emotions of readers and gave satisfaction when the opponent was ’face slapped,’ a basic writing gimmick.

But who expected to actually encounter such madness? Young Master Sun was one thing because arrogant rich youths were a universal theme in all civilizations since the start of time, and that fellow’s reason for causing trouble could still be described as somewhat logical, even though very foolish.

But this? Really? Did nonsense like this really happen in Chinese history? Or was this because it was a fictional Instance? Maybe semi-fictional?

Whatever the case, Damon simply turned slightly, eyeing the youth from head to toe as if examining a rotting fruit.

"Would you like to repeat that?" He asked rather politely, which was the wrong action as the fellow took it for weakness.

The youth gave a shrill laugh that made one’s palm itch to slap his face. "Oh, forgive me. I didn’t realize your poverty was paired with sensitivity."

SNAP!

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the banking hall.

The youth blinked in confusion one moment, then suddenly spun like a windmill mid-mockery the next as his fan clattered to the floor while his cheek began to swell rapidly. He stumbled back and forth in a daze, eyes spinning as his brain had been knocked around in his skull.

Gasps filled the room as the onlookers were shocked by this brutal and lawless act in a place heavily monitored by law. Even the county guards assigned to monitor the bank froze, unsure if they should intervene.

"I accept apologies in two forms, verbal... or dental," Damon announced casually, brushing his sleeve.

"Y-you dare assault a member of the Zhao merchant guild?!" the youth wheezed, holding his face while tears streamed down his cheeks.

"If you’re still standing after five seconds, feel free to call the guards," Damon replied with a serene smile.

The county guards looked at each other, then back at Damon, and made a tactical decision: they escorted the staggering youth out without further conflict even as the fellow cursed them.

The banker returned moments later, face pale as he had heard everything from the office at the back. "Scholar Damon, the note is valid. Will you accept silver or issue smaller drafts?"

"Silver," Damon answered calmly, as if the previous altercation had never occurred.

He accepted several sealed boxes with the 10,000 taels, nodding at his trio of followers. "We’ll distribute the rest soon. For now, use part of it to get yourself into something more appropriate, then spend the remainder on equipment. Preparations begin tonight..."

Chen Yuan grinned as he shook a box of silver that clinked pleasantly. "With this kind of master, we might just survive after all."

Sun Liang chuckled. "No. We might actually thrive."

Xue Rou only nodded sharply, eyes flickering with determination. Her heart had been closed to the world ever since her father had been slaughtered, but she began to see a way forward through all of this, and that hope lay in their new master!

Damon stepped out of the bank and immediately began to fulfill his objectives.

’What are the chances that I will find the County Judge if I move to the east?’

[Objective chances are currently 0%.]

’What are the chances that I will find the County Judge if I move to the west?’

[Objective chances are currently 0%.]

’...county governor if I move to the north?’

[...0%.]

’...the south?’

[...10%.]

Hoh? So to the south then.

Damon then gestured to his three followers to follow him and went to a nearby bookstore to purchase a map of the county. Looking at the map, he identified all the southern locations of note where the County Judge could be either hiding, trapped, or held as a captive in.

’What are the chances that I will find the County Judge if I head to the Baihua Temple?’

[Objective chances are currently 0%.]

’...the Zen Sect?’

[Objective chances are currently 0%.]

’...the Ghost Valley School?’

[Objective chances are currently 30%.]

Damon raised an eyebrow and rolled up the map, much to the confusion of his three followers. "I have ascertained our next direction, but first, let us purchase a residence and establish a small force."

As such, the group headed to the County Government Office.

The County Government Office sat atop a slight hill, its outer wall painted with a bright vermilion hue and its gate was flanked by two stone lions whose chipped fangs suggested many years of disuse rather than glory.

Compared to the martial pomp of sects or the opulence of noble mansions, the office exuded bureaucratic fatigue.

Damon and his party were guided by a clerk into a side hall where residential permits and property transfers were handled.

The room smelled faintly of ink and old tea leaves, with dusty scrolls piled high and junior officials shuffling between desks like confused ducks.

The clerk at the front desk looked up from his nap with barely hidden disdain, and his eyes narrowed even more when he saw Damon’s dark skin and plain scholar robes.

"This office handles land purchases for qualified citizens. If you’re here to inquire about renting a room, try the eastern quarter—"

Damon didn’t wait for the rest of the predictable sentence. He calmly opened one of the silver boxes he was carrying and placed two neat stacks of fifty-tael ingots on the desk with a loud clink.

"I’m not here to rent. I’m here to buy."