Shen Mo's revelation that his wealth was untouched offered a sliver of reassurance to Yuuki Kitahara. The powerful man's eyes involuntarily fixed on the ten jars. He was an incredibly ambitious man who had built his immense fortune from the ground up, and precisely because of that, he was terrified of losing it all, especially to death.
"How much are these jars valued at?" he asked, his voice wavering only slightly. He shot a harsh glare at his eldest son, who was still trembling in fear. His second son, Ryuta, was showing far more composure.
"These are merely our Tier One Jars, Mr. Kitahara, valued at fifty thousand Ryo each," Shen Mo stated, holding up five fingers.
Fifty thousand? Yuuki Kitahara was surprised. Not because the price was high, but because it was so low. If the jars truly contained the power of eternal life, the price should have been astronomical.
"When introducing a new business, one must start small and earn trust," Shen Mo explained, chuckling as if reading the noble's mind. "As a merchant, I value the sincerity of the transaction above all else."
"Alright!" Yuuki Kitahara, revealing the decisive nature of a successful patriarch, quickly made his choice. He reached out and respectfully placed five hundred thousand Ryo before Shen Mo.
"Then the transaction is complete." Shen Mo waved his hand, and the currency vanished into his system. "Now, wouldn't you like to open them? Trust me, you won't be disappointed."
Yuuki Kitahara's palm trembled. He desperately wished the transaction could simply end there, but the gnawing curiosity was overwhelming. He took a slow, deep breath, extending his hand toward the jars.
"Father," his second son, Ryuta, spoke up suddenly, his voice steady. "Allow me to serve you."
"Ryuta..." Yuuki Kitahara was touched. In a moment of genuine danger, his second son had stepped forward. He nodded, granting permission. The Kitahara family couldn't afford to lose its patriarch over a peculiar jar.
Ryuta, his palms slick with sweat, approached Shen Mo. He grit his teeth, the fear still present but mastered, and reached out, instantly smashing the nearest jar.
A delicate halo of light emerged from the shattered pottery.
"Congratulations!" Shen Mo's sudden, loud voice startled all three men. "Against the odds, the first jar opened a rare item, valued at sixty thousand Ryo. This is an Experience Cluster, representing the cumulative experience of swinging a sword 1,400 times. Would you care to absorb it?"
This was a custom product, technically low-cost for Shen Mo (around 600 TPs) but invaluable as a demonstration. Its immediate, magical effect was designed to shatter their disbelief and pique their greedy interest.
Yuuki Kitahara stared, silent.
"Father," Ryuta insisted. "Please, let me try it."
"Ryuta," the patriarch said, his face softening with a complicated mix of surprise and pride. "It seems I have underestimated you."
Ryuta didn't speak. He simply reached out, his expression resolute, and gently touched the floating halo.
The light instantly plunged into his palm. Ryuta's body stiffened. A sudden, vivid memory that was not his own flashed through his mind: the repetitive, exhausting motion of swinging a blade at a wooden post, 1,400 times without rest. Subconsciously, his fingers opened and closed, gripping an invisible sword hilt.
When he snapped back to reality, he stared blankly at his own palms. They were faintly blistered, the raw evidence of intense, unaccustomed sword training.
Disbelief warred with joy. He waved his arms a few times, his movements surprisingly fluid and correct.
"Father!" he cried, excitedly pointing at the blisters and snapping into a perfect, textbook swordsman's stance.
Yuuki Kitahara inhaled sharply. His second son was a scholar, weak and deliberately unathletic. Yet, the blisters were fresh, and the swordsmanship posture was flawless.
How is this possible? The question, beyond his comprehension, made his scalp tingle.
Shen Mo slowly adjusted his impeccable, unruffled collar. "That is the magic of the jar, Mr. Kitahara. They contain wonders beyond the scope of a single world. Shall we continue?"
The simple question instantly pulled Yuuki Kitahara out of his shock. His initial fear had evaporated, replaced by a surge of envy and a growing conviction that this was not a crisis, but a colossal opportunity for the Kitahara family.
He reached for the next jar himself.
It contained a simple dagger.
"A common item," Shen Mo shrugged lightly. "This is, after all, only our cheapest Tier One jar."
Common? Yuuki Kitahara held the dagger. The cold, perfectly balanced steel reflected his tired, exhausted face in the candlelight. The blade was razor-sharp, with a subtle groove running down the length. A man of his experience immediately recognized it as a high-quality, rare weapon designed for speed and poison application.
"A magnificent blade," he breathed.
"Please continue," Shen Mo urged, needing to accelerate the process. The maintenance cost of the Mirror Space was high. He needed to clear twenty sets of Tier One Jars as rapidly as possible to unlock the high-profit Tier Two.
"Yes!"
Yuuki Kitahara had completely shed his fear. His eyes, fixed on Shen Mo, were now filled with admiration and an undeniable, burning excitement. Even his terrified eldest son was peering at the remaining jars with a tentative curiosity that quickly bled into desire.
The pattern was set: from fear to anticipation, then to admiration, and ultimately, to bankruptcy.
The jars were smashed open one by one. This particular set was from the "Kendo Series," tailored to appeal to a powerful noble who would want trained, loyal fighters. Shen Mo had strategically packed them with small, tantalizing wonders: weapons, fleeting combat experience, secret martial arts fragments, and even a micro-dose of Sword Intent from a fantasy cultivation world.
The results were terrifyingly effective. The three men, untrained in chakra, didn't gain power, but they collectively saw the momentary, terrifying majesty of a sword stroke that could cleave mountains and rivers.
When the ten jars were finally emptied, Shen Mo offered only a simple, final reminder of the resurrection promise.
Yuuki Kitahara did not hesitate. The gazes of all three Kitaharas were now manic, fully consumed by the hunt for power and the desire for more. They immediately demanded more boxes