Songhai. Dinner had just finished. The sun had dipped below the horizon, stubbornly casting its dying afterglow to dye the clouds at the horizon a golden red. Jiang Yu'er stepped out of her room in pink slippers and dashed enthusiastically into her nephew's room, only to find it empty.
"Mom, where's Yuanzi?" she hollered at Grandma, who was washing dishes in the kitchen.
"He just went out. Probably telling fortunes for the old men in the neighborhood again," Grandma shouted back in an even louder voice.
"Since when does he know how to tell fortunes? He isn't conning money out of the neighborhood old folk, is he? Mom, beat him to death when he gets back!"
"He didn't con any money, but he certainly deserves a beating," Grandma said through gritted teeth.
"Mom, I'm taking a nap. Call me when he gets back. Tomorrow's the weekend, I've got gaming to do." Jiang Yu'er yawned and went back to her room.
By a stone table in the residential compound, Zhang Yuanqing sat regally with his legs spread wide, surrounded by a crowd of elderly aunties and uncles. Opposite him sat a half-bald old man.
The old man said with deep remorse and grief, "Master Zhang, your reading was so accurate! The stock I bought really hit the downward limit. Aiyo, it hurts so bad my liver aches."
Hearing this, Zhang Yuanqing shook his head and sighed.
"Uncle Wang, you're just born to be chives—harvested from childhood to adulthood, and from adulthood to old age. You won't make a fortune in this lifetime. If you keep this up, your twilight years will be bleak."
Uncle Wang went pale with fright and gripped Master Zhang's hands tightly. "Master, you have to save me!"
Zhang Yuanqing sat up straight, assuming the solemn air of an otherworldly grandmaster. "Simple. Hand your money over to your wife to manage from now on."
"Will that keep me from getting harvested like chives?" the old man asked expectantly.
"No, then the one getting harvested will be your son."
"...Master, please change the fate of our whole family!"
Listening to their conversation, the surrounding elders gasped in shock.
"Did he really lose money?"
"A blind cat bumping into a dead rat, surely."
"Can Old Chen's boy really tell fortunes?"
The elderly men and women chattered in surprise. Recently, rumors had been sweeping the compound that Old Chen's grandson had left home during summer vacation to apprentice under a master, learning the art of physiognomy and fortune-telling—divining destinies with infallible precision and pinpointing dragon veins to alter fate.
It all started last week when Old Man Fei was playing chess against Old Man Chen in the compound. Old Chen's grandson suddenly showed up, pointed at Old Fei, and said:
"Uncle Fei, the space between your brows is dark and your eyes are dull. It's early-stage cancer. Hurry to the hospital, there's still time."
Hearing that, Old Fei was ready on the spot to show the kid that the old blade hadn't dulled yet. But what Old Chen's grandson said next drained the color from Old Fei's face.
Nobody could clearly recall the exact words, but after listening, Old Fei had rushed frantically to the hospital. As it turned out, he really had lung cancer—luckily in the early stages, and the doctors said it was treatable.
After this incident, Old Chen's grandson made quite a name for himself among the seniors in the compound.
Still, some remained skeptical of his abilities.
"Master Zhang has real talent! A few days ago he said I'd be holding a grandson next year, and yesterday my daughter-in-law was diagnosed as pregnant."
"Old Wang lost on the stock market too, that can't be an act."
Just then, an old man with triangular eyes shoved Uncle Wang aside. "Me, let me try!"
He scrutinized Zhang Yuanqing and said disdainfully, "Young man, take a look at my face. If you get it right, I'll give you two hundred yuan."
"No need for money; we're all neighbors," Zhang Yuanqing said, maintaining the calm composure of an expert. Not in the least annoyed by the man's attitude and tone, he asked for the old man's name and birth date as usual.
In fact, he recognized this old man. He had a notorious temper in the compound, was stingy and mean-spirited, and had once clashed with Zhang Yuanqing's grandfather.
Once the triangular-eyed old man finished speaking, under the watchful gaze of the surrounding seniors, Zhang Yuanqing stroked his chin and said, "Your health is good, but your interpersonal, family, and filial relations are poor. Your children probably haven't visited you in a long time."
The old man snorted. "Don't try to bluff me. Everyone knows that."
*So you know your reputation stinks too.* Zhang Yuanqing shifted the topic. "However, your Affinity Palace is shrouded in auspicious clouds with red light concealed within. Tsk, tsk. Congratulations, uncle, your love life has met a second spring."
The old man's expression changed. Before he could speak, Zhang Yuanqing pivoted again:
"However, black qi permeates those auspicious clouds, and the red light is coiled with bloody mist. This peach blossom carries a blood fiend! It means your lover is a married woman. Uncle, whose auntie have you hooked up with?"
The seniors around them gasped in unison.
The triangular-eyed old man's face froze instantly, and then, like a rat with its tail stepped on, he leaped up.
"How is that possible?!" he shouted back heatedly, glancing nervously at the people around him as he protested. "There's no such thing! You little punk, talking nonsense! You'll die a horrible death for lying, you know that?!"
He rose furiously, pushed through the crowd, and stalked away.
Because he had already noticed that the looks from those around him had completely changed: the old men looked guarded and hostile, while the old women were brimming with gossip.
Zhang Yuanqing called out after his retreating back, "Uncle, at your age, just retire in peace and quiet! Don't go fooling around with all these fancy shenanigans!"
"Yuanzi!" At that moment, Uncle stepped out from the apartment building after finishing dinner and waved. "Let's go square dancing!"
"Coming!"
Zhang Yuanqing pulled a mask from his jacket pocket and trotted after him cheerfully. Behind him, the elders called out loudly to keep him:
"Master Zhang, read mine!"
"Master Zhang, don't leave! Whose wife did that old bastard hook up with?"
"Master Zhang, my son's work hasn't been going well lately. Can we set a time for you to do a reading for him?"
But Zhang Yuanqing merely waved a hand, leaving without taking away a single cloud, following the family scoundrel out of the compound. In the plaza fifty meters away, a flock of charming aunties awaited him.
Zhang Yuanqing had been home for a week. During the day, he pretended to attend school, but in truth went to Fujia Bay Villa to fool around with Guan Ya, supervising Xiahou Aotian turning screws when he had spare time.
During that time, he found a moment to visit Jinshan City. Wuhen Hotel was closed; fearing revenge from the Southern Sect, Xiao Yuan had moved into the city center with the four youngsters.
Kou Beiyue and Little Fatty had paused their food delivery gigs and switched to working as couriers, currently employed at Human Blood Bun's logistics company.
In the evenings, he returned to eat with his family, accompany Uncle to square dance, play video games with Auntie, and occasionally join the marriage-nagging brigade to urge his overly mature cousin to find a girlfriend.
Worth mentioning was that last night, Aunt took a girl home. She was the daughter of Aunt's brother's friend; both parents were state-owned enterprise executives, and the family was well-off.
The girl was also a returnee from abroad, currently a senior executive at a Fortune Global 500 company. At thirty-two years old, she was a high-quality human female of striking looks and outstanding capability.
When her family heard that Zhang Yuanqing's cousin was a chief inspector at the Kangyang District Public Security Bureau, they hit it off immediately, eager to match the two up.
So Aunt brought the lady over for dinner. Zhang Yuanqing was also present. She truly was impressive—wavy curls, designer clothing, refined women's glasses, radiating an intellectual and elegant aura; anyone who didn't know better might have thought her older brother was named Gao.
The moment the lady arrived and laid eyes on Zhang Yuanqing, her eyes lit up. During dinner, she beat around the bush asking:
Where does little brother go to school? Are you interested in an internship at my company? How is Auntie's business abroad? What clothing brands does little brother like? Her attention was entirely on him, barely speaking a word to his cousin.
Before leaving, she even wanted to add Zhang Yuanqing on WeChat.
There was nothing that could be done about it. Zhang Yuanqing wasn't bad-looking to begin with, and after becoming a Spirit Realm walker, his physique was toned and upright, while his temperament blended the wicked, arrogant magnetism of a Night Walker with the ethereal mystery of a Star Official. His appeal to women was truly immense.
The blind date naturally fell through. According to Aunt, as soon as the lady got home, she told her parents that she had fallen for her match's cousin instead, declaring she was ready to date immediately, marry within three months, and have a baby within a year.
Uncle's family didn't really mind. Uncle didn't care about his son's marriage anyway; Chen Yuanjun was Grandpa's successor, not his.
Aunt felt that her son was a chief inspector in the Public Security Bureau, highly placed and influential, so he could take his pick among the young women of Songhai and had no shortage of prospective wives.
Grandma, however, was very displeased, treating her grandson as a thorn in her side for several days afterward.
At 1:30 a.m., having sent Auntie off, Zhang Yuanqing locked the door and cast the Star Escape Technique to reach the rooftop.
He took out the Daluo Astrolabe, opened his Star Eyes, and routinely deduced his future.
Half an hour later, having gleaned nothing, he stowed the astrolabe and sighed.
"Still no revelation. This means my death calamity comes from a high-status entity—at least a peak Dominator, or a high-status Night Walker skilled in concealing themselves."
Zhang Yuanqing wore a troubled frown and sighed again.
Although Stargazing yielded no feedback, logical deduction could not be interfered with by the power of "concealment."
He believed the death calamity likely stemmed from two sources: one was Elder Cai, and the other was Ling Tuo.
The problem was that, extrapolating from Demon Lord's experience, Ling Tuo moving against him would happen only after his ascension to Day Wanderer at the earliest.
Unless some special event occurred in the near future that caused Ling Tuo to act ahead of time—for instance, discovering that he was Celestial Master Zhang's son.
On the other hand, if the death calamity originated from Elder Cai, the crisis would most likely be an ambush by multiple Dominators, which could be ingeniously defused simply by hiding in an instance dungeon.
"Sigh. The scariest thing isn't danger, but not knowing where the danger is coming from, leaving me without even a direction to devise a countermeasure."
Zhang Yuanqing dissolved into starlight and dispersed.
Dark clouds blanketed the sky in boundless layers, through which pale, sickly daylight strained to pierce, spilling over this lifeless land.
This was an ancient battlefield, a forbidden zone of life. Grayish-brown earth stretched to the edge of vision, where rotting corpses and ashen bones resembled ulcers festering across the surface.
A blood-colored lake sat embedded in the earth like a crimson gemstone.
Suspended high above the blood lake was an ancient palace built of massive black stones. The palace featured neither Western spires nor Chinese roof tiles.
Its architectural style belonged to no era, as if detached from human civilization entirely—resembling more a cube stacked together from stones by primordial mortals.
Yet the rocks that formed it fitted together seamlessly, the outer walls were smooth and flat, and its exquisite details were far beyond anything ancient humans could achieve.
Extending down from the hovering palace were nine hundred ninety-nine suspended stone steps, with the one-thousandth step embedded into the ground.
A tall ascetic monk with a weathered face had his palms pressed together, climbing step by step.
With every step he took upward, the stone steps receded by one. He had walked for a very, very long time, yet remained treading in the same place.
Even so, he had already traversed nine hundred ninety steps, with only the final ten remaining before he could reach the palace.
"Past Without Traces!"
A figure appeared at the top of the steps, draped in tattered robes. It possessed no flesh or blood; its exposed head was a stark white skull, and its hands and feet were pale bones.
Within the hollow eye sockets of this skeleton danced soul flames, conveying a mental ripple:
"You are not the chosen of God. Do not dream of usurping God's authority. Turn back; this is your final chance."
Chapter 619