Chapter 20: Blazing

The horseshoeing business was so good that Li Mu found himself barely able to keep up. His idea had proven correct: once the livestock in Lijia Village had their hooves properly tended, they became living advertisements. And owing to the limitations of the era, everyone made their living more or less the same way, so most people in the county were familiar faces. If one person knew, soon everyone knew.

The day after he finished offering free horseshoeing to the villagers, people began arriving at Lijia Village from other places, seeking him out. At first, they were skeptical. But after witnessing his remarkable skill in taming animals, their doubts vanished, and they gradually began to trust him.

In just one day, he shod over twenty animals from outside villages. More than half of these animals had problems with their hooves, the most common being small stones embedded within them. Others had deformed hooves from being left unattended for too long. The former he could fix; the latter, though, were beyond his help. For those, he charged a single coin. For other injuries, five coins. Even so, after tallying up at day’s end, he found he’d earned five taels and seven coins of silver!

Staring at the pile of broken silver and copper coins before him, Li Mu was stunned. He had known horseshoeing was a good trade, but he never expected it to be so profitable—this was just a single day! Uncle Jiu was a martial man, and even with his stipend from the county—a sum regarded as high—he only made a little over ten taels a month. Yet Li Mu had made over five taels in one day? It felt almost unreal.

Given current prices, a catty of pork was only one or two coins. To earn over five taels in one day—what did that mean? Elated, it took Li Mu quite a while to calm down.

“Of course,” he reflected, “right now horseshoeing is a blue ocean—a business with no competition. All the livestock have never had their hooves tended, so there’s a rush of demand. But as more animals are shod, it won’t always be this lucrative. After all, a single horseshoeing lasts at least half a year, maybe a year or more. With care, some families could even stretch it to two or three years. In other words, although this money was earned in a day, it was really the earnings of the next year or two, condensed into a short time.”

Moreover, competition was bound to emerge. Li Mu never underestimated the intelligence of people in this world. In these times, there were few ways to make money. He had stumbled upon a new path and could enjoy the first taste. But when others caught on and entered the trade, competition would naturally follow. After all, horseshoeing required little technical skill.

But—it was enough! As long as he could make a good profit from this initial wave, that would suffice. Li Mu exhaled deeply. His goal was to practice martial arts; horseshoeing was merely a way to earn his first pot of gold, a temporary measure. He had no intention of making a lifelong business of it. In fact, if he did, there would be no point in dreaming of martial cultivation.

Uncle Jiu’s monthly stipend was high, but Li Mu suspected he had other sources of income—otherwise, how could he afford to support his martial pursuits? Lately, Uncle Jiu had spent little time at home, often going to the county town. But when he was home, Li Mu had witnessed his appetite, especially for meat. Each time Uncle Jiu returned, he brought at least a dozen catties of various meats, which Aunt Jiu would cook, inviting Li Mu to eat with them. But Li Mu’s appetite was small; no matter how much meat there was, a couple of ounces would fill him. Yet watching Uncle Jiu eat was astonishing—dozens of catties would vanish into his belly in no time.

Li Mu had asked about this, and Uncle Jiu explained that martial men had powerful physiques, and such strength required energy—namely, vital energy and blood. With abundant qi and blood, the body grew strong and digestion became formidable. Ordinary millet, to a martial artist, was like plain water; only by consuming large amounts of meat could they sustain their fearsome bodies. In other words, after truly embarking on the martial path—especially at Uncle Jiu’s level—every meal would require over a dozen catties of meat. The expense was staggering. With pork at one coin per catty, ten catties was a tael. If Uncle Jiu only had a stipend of a dozen taels a month, it would be impossible to support his practice; after just a few meals, the month’s wages would be gone. Clearly, he had other ways of making money.

But this was something Aunt Jiu didn’t know. Though they were husband and wife, Uncle Jiu spent his days in town, and Aunt Jiu knew little of his affairs. Yet she never pried—that was her wisdom. She was good to Li Mu, but truth be told, she was just a village woman. The world of martial men was beyond her reach, and there was no need for her to probe further. Uncle Jiu gave her his monthly wages, and she lived comfortably in Lijia Village. What good would come of upsetting the status quo? Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

Therefore, if Li Mu truly meant to practice martial arts, horseshoeing could only ever be temporary; it could never be a lifelong trade. Still, everything had to proceed step by step. He knew many ways to make money, but lacking any background or backing, he dared not reveal them. Otherwise, it would be like a child flaunting gold—an invitation to disaster. He needed to use the money from horseshoeing as his first capital, begin his martial training, and then, once he had some ability, gradually unveil other, more lucrative ventures, advancing step by step into a virtuous cycle.

With this thought, the joy of earning over five taels in a single day faded somewhat. His eyes shone with determination. “The market is only so big. It looks like I must work quickly, to earn as much as I can before others start to imitate me.” Gradually, a plan formed in his mind. Copycats were inevitable, but it would take them some time. Li Mu intended to seize as much of this first wave of profit as possible before others caught on, using it as his martial seed capital. With that in mind, he carefully put away the day’s earnings. This, after all, was the first true pot of gold he had made since arriving in this world. And all of it—was thanks to Uncle Niu. If not for Uncle Niu helping him awaken his “golden finger,” how could he have gained such skill with animals? He would never have thought to use content from stress-relief videos of his past life as a source of livelihood.

“The tiger demon…” Thinking of Uncle Niu, his mind inevitably turned to the tiger demon. His desire to cultivate martial arts grew ever more intense.

For three days straight, Lijia Village was bustling. A place rarely visited by strangers now saw groups of people arriving, driving all kinds of livestock and carts. Obviously, they had come to seek Li Mu’s horseshoeing services. Aunt Jiu was delighted, and Sixth Aunt was grinning ear to ear, boasting to everyone about her nephew’s abilities.

Although strictly speaking, Sixth Aunt and Li Mu’s father were not from the same immediate branch, and there were several degrees of separation between them, at this moment Li Mu was undoubtedly the dearest and most dazzling child in her eyes. Aunt Jiu, too, was happy—perhaps even more purely so than Sixth Aunt. After all, Uncle Jiu was a martial man, and though he never told her about his affairs in the county, their household was the most comfortable in the village. The more Li Mu earned, the happier she was—happily, and simply so.

However, Li Mu understood well that money should never be flaunted. Though anyone could do a rough calculation and guess his daily income, he never accepted payment in front of others. Whenever someone needed to settle up, he led them into the house to do so privately.