After all, she had no martial arts skills, no way to fight back. But that didn't mean she wouldn't try.
She needed money.
With how desperately these people were chasing her, she knew she might not survive for long without it. And the money she had? The coins she had managed to squeeze out of those dark cultivators—or were they ghost cultivators? Whatever they were, it wasn't enough.
Hadn't she heard the saying? The more, the merrier.
The more money she had, the safer she felt.
Besides, she had no intention of staying here any longer. This place was dangerously close to where the original story's main events started. She had zero interest in getting caught in the tragic entanglements of the so-called male and female protagonists.
She was not about to become collateral damage in someone else's drama.
So, taking a risk? Not a bad choice.
And if this man did try to harm her? Well, she could just scream.
After all, she was a woman. The worst he could do was—what? Cut her tongue? That was all.
Sometimes, even Divya had to admit she was shameless.
Seriously, was I just casually accepting the idea that the worst he could do was cut my tongue?
Well, whatever.
A risk was a risk.
She kept her three fingers raised.
Her mother had taught her an important lesson—never name a fixed price.
She remembered, as a child, tagging along to the market with her mother. How her mother would always offer slightly less than the asking price.
If something cost 300, she'd casually show two fingers.
And just like that, the shopkeeper would start negotiating. "Not 200, but maybe 250... or 220…"
That was how you did it.
If you wanted something but didn't know its value, let the other party decide first.
So that's what Divya did.
She simply raised her fingers—just to see how high this man would go.
And what did he do?
He jumped straight to 3,000.
Not three gold.
Not three gold and five silver.
Not even thirty gold.
No, he leaped straight to 3,000.
That meant one thing—this information was valuable.
If it wasn't, he would've started low, hesitated, bargained.
But no. He went big.
Which meant all Divya had to do now was keep raising her fingers… until she decided it was enough.
The man stared at Divya, his jaw tightening, fists clenching. A vein throbbed near his temple, and his nose flared in restrained anger.
Fear slithered down Divya's spine.
She looked calm—expression unreadable, posture steady—but inside? She was already raising a white flag.
God, let's have a talk.
She was mentally drafting a heartfelt speech for the Almighty about how her life had been completely screwed from the moment she was born into this world. Maybe she'd throw in a request too—Can I be something simple in my next life? A pig, maybe? Some clueless village fool?
Because let's be real—after all the nonsense I've pulled, how could I possibly reincarnate as a human again?
And even if she did get another chance, she swore—never again.
Never again would she touch a novel. No more protagonists, no more tragic backstories, no more absurdly overpowered villains.
She would live a peaceful, boring life, far away from any ridiculous plot twists.
Just as she was contemplating her karmic debt, the man finally spoke.
"I can only give you 3,500 gold. If that's enough, take it. If not, get lost."
Divya blinked.
Huh?
She stared at him, momentarily at a loss.
3,500?
In her mind, only one thought echoed loud and clear—
This man is a fool.
An absolute, certified, rich, noble, arrogant young master fool.
Who—who—in their right mind just throws that kind of money away without even demanding proof?
No bargaining. No suspicion. No hesitation.
Just… handing over 3,500 gold, like it was pocket change.
Divya felt the urge to clutch her heart.
Is this what it feels like to meet a walking gold mine?
This was the first time Divya had ever seen another fool like this.
Ah, no—the second time.
The first? Her father, of course.
That man had willingly married her mother—a woman who ran the household like a high-security prison. He had chosen his own suffering, and for that, he would forever hold the title of "Number One Fool" in her heart.
But now?
This man in front of her had just solidified his place as Number Two.
Who the hell just hands over so much money without question?
But then again—why complain?
If God handed you an apple pie while you were starving, would you waste time asking whether it came from heaven or hell?
No.
You'd take it.
And so, with the grace of someone accepting divine providence, Divya extended her hand, ready to claim her absurdly easy fortune.
Divya looked at him, her lips curling into a sly grin. Seeing her expression, the man narrowed his eyes and spoke in a sharp tone.
"Listen, I can only give you this much. If you don't want it, then fine. Call them back if you dare."
Divya nearly choked on air. What the hell? Did she just push too far? She wanted to slap herself—why did she always have to test her luck?
Still, she wasn't about to let the moment slip away. She quickly adjusted her expression, flashing a carefree smile as she raised her hand. "Fine, fine. I'm feeling generous today. I'll give you a special discount."
She tapped her chin, pretending to ponder. "You know, with what you've done, I could sell this information for at least 5,000 to 10,000 gold to the ghost cultivators…"
The man's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching.
Divya's smirk widened. "But since you're handsome, I'll let it slide. Just for you, a one-time offer."
As if! She wouldn't dare go near those ghost cultivators. But he didn't need to know that.
Without another word, the man yanked out a stack of bank papers from his pocket and practically slammed them into her hands.
"Take it. And get lost."