Chương 91: 90. The Customer Is Always Right Until the Gaze Says Otherwise

Han Bolin studies me for several breaths before returning the gesture with a shallower bow.

"Sect Leader Lu. Your product has caused considerable distress to my household."

"I understand." I glance toward the injured workers.

"You have my apologies for the distress and disruption. Before we discuss compensation, I would like to inspect the scene and determine what happened." His expression tightens slightly.

"The evidence is before you."

"Then the inspection should not take long." He cannot refuse without making the refusal more suspicious than the request. After a moment, he gestures toward the damaged kitchen. I begin with the stove. Dark streaks stain the wall behind it. Soup residue has dried along the floorboards and lower shelves, mixed with fragments of vegetables and shredded meat. One wooden rack has collapsed against the wall. Several jars lie broken nearby, while the stove itself bears a crack across one side.

Han Bolin follows a few steps behind me.

"The cooker was operating normally," he says.

"The kitchen had already used it several times without trouble. Then, without warning, it burst. The lid and boiling contents were thrown across the room. Two of my workers were fortunate not to lose their lives." Several servants nod along with his account. I crouch beside the table where the damaged cooker and several smaller pieces of metal have been arranged. Most of the vessel remains intact. One side has collapsed around a ragged hole wide enough for an apple to fit through. I activate the Gaze.

Damaged Pressure Cooker - Grade: Low Type: Cooking Vessel Effect: A pressure cooker. Deliberately compromised after removal from active use. Condition: Broken Verdict: Injuries and scene have been arranged to resemble a pressure-related rupture. I keep my expression unchanged and lean closer to the hole. The metal curves inward around the point of impact. Jagged edges have been forced into the interior, while the surrounding wall is crushed in the same direction.

It resembles less the result of pressure escaping than someone driving a fist through the iron.

"Proprietor Han, you said the cooker burst from within?"

"Yes."

"Then this damage is unusual." His eyes move toward the hole.

"How so?"

"If pressure inside the vessel had torn through the wall, the metal surrounding the opening would have been forced outward." I trace one of the bent edges with my finger.

"This has been driven inward." Han Bolin's expression remains composed, but one of the servants near the wall lowers his eyes.

"The cooker struck the stove when it exploded," Han Bolin says.

"Or the wall. There was considerable force."

"That is possible." I turn the cooker so an undamaged section faces me and rest one hand against its rim. Qi gathers around my other fist, and I strike. The movement is too fast for the mortals in the room to follow. One moment my fist is held beside the pot, and the next it has passed through the iron wall with a sharp metallic crack. The table jolts beneath it. Pain pulses across my knuckles.

The qi protected the bones and kept the metal from cutting me, but that does not make punching through a bare iron vessel pleasant. Ling'er could probably do it without feeling anything, but I'm not her. A second hole now marks the side of the cooker. The metal around my fist has folded inward, leaving a crushed depression and jagged edges driven into the vessel. I gesture between the two openings.

"They are similar." I examine the original hole again. Its edges are less even, with several overlapping depressions around the opening rather than one clean point of impact.

"This one appears to have required more than one strike," I continue.

"The first impact weakened the iron. The following ones forced their way through. These cookers were designed to withstand pressure and impacts beyond anything an ordinary mortal could produce during normal use. If the internal pressure had grown powerful enough to rupture reinforced iron, the force would not have opened one or two narrow holes and left the rest of the vessel intact." I run one finger along the undamaged curve between the openings.

"The wall would have torn outward along a weak point, or the locking rim would have failed. It would not leave a concentrated hole driven into the vessel while the surrounding structure remained intact." Han Bolin's composure tightens.

"The damage here is concentrated. Something struck this pot from the outside until the metal gave way." I turn the cooker slightly so both inward-folded holes remain visible.

"See?" The room becomes quiet. Han Bolin looks at the metal, then at my hand. I can almost see him reconsidering whether provoking a merchant backed by a Foundation Establishment cultivator was worth the compensation he hoped to obtain. He recovers quickly.

"That proves only that metal can be bent inward after an impact. The cooker could still have burst first and struck something afterward."

"Of course. The damage alone is not enough. I would also like to examine the injured workers." Han Bolin hesitates before motioning them forward. They rise from their stools and approach with their arms held carefully away from their bodies. One has bandages wrapped from the wrist to the elbow. The other has cloth wound around his forearms and one side of his neck.

Kitchen Servant - Mortal Name: Luo Peng Age: 34 Spirit Root: None Constitution: None Cultivation: Mortal Verdict: He willingly allowed his arms to be burned in exchange for a small payment of silver. He expected several months of wages for injuries he believed would heal within weeks. I ask the physician's assistant for permission before loosening the outer wrapping. The skin beneath is red and irritated in broad, smooth patches. The burns are real enough to cause pain, but their shape is too even.

There are no torn sleeves, no scattered cuts from metal fragments, and no irregular pattern where boiling soup and shattered pieces should have struck from several directions. I examine the second worker. His injuries are much the same. Shen Qiao watches from beside me, his expression slowly changing as the details settle into place. When he inspected the scene alone, he had been faced with wounded workers, an angry customer, several witnesses, and the possibility that his first major business had harmed someone.

Panic had given him little room to question what he saw. I straighten.

"If this vessel had ruptured with enough force to split reinforced metal and damage the stove, the people standing beside it would not have injuries this uniform." Han Bolin's jaw tightens.

"Are you accusing my workers of lying about being burned?"

"I am saying the injuries do not match the event you described. Even a Qi Condensation cultivator standing beside a violent rupture would not emerge untouched except for smooth surface burns. These men are mortals, yet both are standing comfortably before me." One of the workers takes an involuntary step backward. Han Bolin's voice rises.

"The Coiling Dragon Sect sells a dangerous device, injures ordinary workers, and then sends a cultivator to insult them so it can avoid responsibility?" Several servants look toward me, waiting to see whether I will respond to the accusation with anger. I reach into my storage ring. Han Bolin flinches when my hand moves. A new pressure cooker drops onto the table with a dull metallic thump. The fragments beside it shift from the impact.

"We take accusations involving our products very seriously," I say.

"That is why we should reproduce the original conditions." Nobody answers.

"We will use the same quantity of water, the same ingredients, the same amount of fuel, and the same cooking time. The worker who operated the first cooker may perform the same actions again while everyone present observes." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. The injured cook's face loses what little color remains beneath the flush of the burns.

"If this cooker fails under the conditions you described, the Coiling Dragon Sect will pay one middle-grade spirit stone. We will cover all genuine damage to the restaurant, all medical expenses, and provide generous compensation to the family of anyone killed during the demonstration." Shen Qiao's head turns toward me at the last part. One middle-grade spirit stone is far more than Han Bolin originally demanded. To a mortal restaurant owner, it is enough wealth to transform his business.

The offer is generous enough that refusing it should make no sense. Unless the first incident cannot be reproduced. Han Bolin stares at the new cooker. The same worker would need to operate it. The same witnesses would need to remain. If it functioned normally, their story would collapse. If they attempted to damage it again, they would have to do so in front of me. Reproducing the claimed explosion would also require placing the cook close enough to suffer the kind of injuries they had only pretended to survive.

The servant speaks before Han Bolin can answer.

"No." The word escapes too quickly. Han Bolin turns toward him. The cook's breathing becomes shallow.

"I will not do it."

"You operated the first cooker," I say.

"You told Shen Qiao that it failed while still on the fire." The man looks toward Han Bolin, but his employer's expression offers him nothing.

"It had already been removed," he says. The admission enters the room quietly. I do not give Han Bolin time to interrupt.

"Who removed it?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"The food was finished."

"Was the cooker damaged when you removed it?" The cook's mouth opens, then closes. Another servant near the broken shelving speaks without being asked.

"It was not." Han Bolin turns sharply.

"Be silent!" The servant lowers his head, but the command has come too late. I look toward him.

"What happened after it was removed?" The servant swallows.

"... Proprietor Han's nephew handled it." Han Bolin steps forward.

"These men are frightened and confused. They do not understand what they are saying." The witnesses along the wall begin retreating from the lie as soon as they understand where it is leading. The first servant, Luo Peng, finally admits the burns were made afterward with heated water. The physician's assistant looks increasingly uncomfortable and steps away from the injured workers. Han Bolin's face darkens. I let the silence continue until every servant in the room is watching him.

Then I allow a measured amount of spiritual pressure to spread through the kitchen. I do not force anyone to the ground. There is no need. The air becomes heavier, pressing against shoulders and tightening breath. The servants bow instinctively. Han Bolin's knees bend before he catches himself against the edge of the stove. I keep my voice even.

"Proprietor Han, do you wish to continue this farce?" His eyes move toward the fragments, the new cooker, and the workers who have already abandoned the story.

"No," he says. I withdraw the pressure. The room seems to inhale at once. Han Bolin straightens slowly, though the confidence he carried when we entered has disappeared. Public exposure would ruin his reputation among the same merchants he intended to frighten away from us. Attempted fraud against a cultivator-backed business could also bring consequences far beyond the compensation he demanded. I offer him another path.

"Mishandling unfamiliar equipment can cause confusion. Your workers may have misunderstood the proper procedure, and concern over the injuries may have caused the account to grow less accurate each time it was repeated." Han Bolin looks at me carefully.

"In return for correcting that misunderstanding, the Coiling Dragon Sect is willing to consider the matter settled." The terms are written at the damaged kitchen table. Han Bolin purchases the replacement cooker at full price. He pays compensation for the time wasted by Shen Qiao and me, as well as an additional amount for the attempted false claim.

He signs a statement explaining that the original cooker was damaged through improper handling after it had been removed from use and that no operational failure had occurred. In return, the Coiling Dragon Sect does not publish the testimony of his workers, report the attempted fraud to the Gao clan's merchants, or pursue further retribution against his household. The workers also sign as witnesses. By the time we leave, the replacement cooker remains on the table beside the damaged first cooker.

Han Bolin stands near the stove with the signed statement in his hands, while his servants avoid looking at him. Shen Qiao follows me through the side entrance and back onto the merchant street. We walk several storefronts before he speaks.

"How did you know?" I glance at him. The color has returned to his face, though he still holds the ledger tightly beneath one arm.

"The hole in the cooker bent inward. The injuries did not match the violence Han Bolin described, and his witnesses became frightened whenever the details were questioned." All of that is true. The Gaze supplied the certainty, but certainty only told me where to look. The inconsistencies were already present in the kitchen.

"They arranged enough evidence to overwhelm you before you had time to examine any part of it properly," I continue.

"An angry customer, injured workers, damaged property, and several witnesses all repeating the same story. It is easier to notice where that story fails when you are not the person being pressured to accept it." Shen Qiao lowers his eyes toward the ledger.

"I should have seen it."

"You should have investigated further. That is not the same as saying you should have solved everything alone." He looks up.

"The Finance Hall belongs to the Coiling Dragon Sect," I say.

"You do not have to negotiate as though one dissatisfied customer can destroy you before anyone else learns what happened. Sect backing gives you the room to inspect a claim, reject unreasonable terms, and challenge someone who attempts to deceive you." His grip on the ledger loosens slightly.

"That does not mean invoking the sect whenever a negotiation becomes inconvenient. Every agreement you make and every product you sell also carries our name. If one of the cookers genuinely harms someone, then we are responsible for finding the defect and compensating them properly. Protection gives you leverage, but it also makes your decisions a reflection of the sect." Shen Qiao is quiet for several steps.

"So I should not negotiate from fear," he says.

"But I also cannot assume the sect's strength makes us correct."

"Exactly." He nods once, committing the lesson to memory with the same seriousness he gives a new entry in his accounts. A crash sounds from behind us. I glance back toward the restaurant. The side door remains open. Through it, Han Bolin can be seen shouting at the servants cleaning the kitchen. He points toward the broken shelves, then toward the new cooker, as though their continued existence is somehow their fault. Several people have gathered farther along the street to observe the disturbance.

Most are ordinary merchants, porters, and curious customers drawn by the closed restaurant. One man stands apart from them. His clothes belong to a caravan laborer, worn and dusted from travel. A plain cloth cap conceals most of his hair, and a narrow bundle is strapped across his back. Nothing about him should attract attention.

Stone River Sect Outer Disciple - Qi Condensation (Fourth Stage) Name: Duan Cheng Age: 21 Spirit Root: Earth (D-grade) Constitution: None Cultivation: Qi Condensation (Fourth Stage) Verdict: His cultivation has been deliberately suppressed, and his appearance altered through mundane disguise. He has remained near the restaurant since before you arrived. I continue walking without acknowledging him. Shen Qiao notices the direction of my glance.

"Is something wrong?"

"Han Bolin was too prepared." He looks back at the restaurant.

"The lie included damaged property, workers willing to injure themselves, witnesses prepared to support the same account, and a merchant network ready to spread the story if you refused his demand. That is more effort than I would expect from one greedy restaurant owner inventing a complaint after breakfast." Shen Qiao's expression grows serious again.

"You believe someone encouraged him?"

"I believe we should determine whether they did." I do not look toward the disguised disciple a second time. If he is here only to observe, knowing that I noticed him would teach Stone River more than I want them to learn.

"Review every recent change in our business," I say.

"Suppliers who altered their prices without explanation. Customers who withdrew after showing interest. Delayed orders, unusual questions, and rumors about the cookers or meat contracts. Do not accuse anyone. I only want to know whether this complaint belongs to a larger pattern."

"I'll begin as soon as we return." We leave Greenstone together. Shen Qiao spends most of the climb reorganizing the problem in his head. By the time the sect gates come into view, his fear has receded, replaced with determination and focus. He returns directly to the Finance Hall. I do not. The exercise in the training yard has already ended, though several disciples remain behind repeating the movements Ling'er assigned after I left.

Wei Chen is among them, still making certain everyone notices the Fifth Stage qi he is doing a poor job of concealing. Mei Lin ignores him with enough effort that the effort itself becomes obvious. The rest of the day does not stop merely because someone attempted to defraud us. I suspend further sales until Ling'er, Wei Zheng, and Old Chen inspect every remaining cooker and repeat the stress tests.

Only after the evening meal, when the lower halls have quieted and most of the day's work has ended, do I send a servant to summon Jun. He arrives at my quarters carrying a notebook and wearing a cautious expression. His eyes flicker uneasily to the incomplete bird statue I was making during the last arts and crafts session. I gesture toward the seat across from me.

"There is a matter I want you to investigate." His attention sharpens.

"The pressure cooker?"

"The complaint was staged. The customer admitted enough to settle the matter, but I do not believe he devised everything without encouragement."

"Is there someone specific I should look for?"

"A sect called Stone River." Jun waits for me to explain.

"One of their outer disciples was watching the restaurant after Shen Qiao and I left. He had concealed his cultivation and altered his appearance. I suspect they have something to do with the sabotage."

"What do you need?"

"Find out who has visited Han Bolin recently. Which merchants he deals with, whether he has debts, and whether anyone paid them or offered him protection. Learn whether Stone River has any connection to his restaurant, the Gao clan's merchants, or the people spreading rumors about our cookers." Jun begins writing.

"Do not approach Han Bolin directly," I continue.

"Speak to neighboring shops, servants, caravan workers, and anyone who watches that street closely. I want information, not a confrontation."

"How long do I have?"

"One week." He looks up from the page.

"Should I take anyone with me?"

"No. A group would attract attention. Go to the Finance Hall for reasonable expenses and report through Shen Qiao if I am unavailable." Jun closes the notebook.

"I'll leave before sunrise." He rises, bows, and heads for the door. He leaves my quarters and disappears into the darkened corridor. By morning, he will be on the road to Greenstone as an ordinary traveler with no visible connection to the Coiling Dragon Sect. Beyond Greenstone, the road divides between the surrounding towns, merchant routes, and the territories of the minor sects that have spent years competing over resources too small for the larger powers to notice.

For weeks, my attention has remained fixed on distant threats. Hollow Scale. Golden Vein. Violet Sky. Organizations strong enough that the Coiling Dragon Sect survives partly because they have not yet decided we deserve their full attention. That danger remains. But while I watched the horizon, the sect continued changing. Its disciples became stronger. Its businesses entered Greenstone. Its name began appearing in contracts, kitchens, caravans, and conversations beyond the mountain.

The local world is beginning to notice us as well.