Mistaken Identity?

"Can you see the fate of gods clearly?" Bilu replied impassively, "What does that have to do with you?" He Lingchuan smiled. "I've always been curious: can a fortune-teller foresee their own fate?" Bilu remained expressionless. "That is not an answer you are meant to know." What determined the fate of gods? The question echoed persistently in He Lingchuan's mind, but he knew Bilu would never give him the answer. Bilu reached out a hand toward him. "Where is the item?" "Those questions were far too simple—hardly worthy of such a treasure." He Lingchuan waved the Dragon-Torture Pillar before it. "I have one last question: if your own fate were suddenly altered, could you foresee it in advance?" Its own fate? Bilu thought this was quite a sharp question. Just earlier, it had discovered that this youth was linked to itself, and now he was asking such a thing. What did the boy intend to do? Alter its destiny? Bilu found the notion somewhat amusing. "That depends on what caliber of power alters that fate," it answered. "It is too complex; I could never explain it clearly to you." "In other words, even the God of Fate's own destiny can undergo a twist beyond his control, correct?" Bilu burst into hearty laughter. "You know nothing of the power of fate, yet you dare make wild conjectures?" He Lingchuan noted that it had avoided a direct answer. "Does the power to change fate have many levels, many kinds?" "Power is power." Bilu held out a hand toward him. "The questions have all been answered. If you don't hand it over, the consequences will be dire." He Lingchuan had no desire to test that outcome, so he tossed the Dragon-Torture Pillar over. "Until we meet again!" Bilu scrutinized him closely for a couple more breaths and chuckled softly. "Indeed, until we meet again!" Peng Fang closed his eyes, and before long, his snoring started up once more. Bilu had departed. He Lingchuan walked out of the cell, unconsciously glancing up at the night sky again with a long sigh. The power to change fate? Wasn't that the very direction he had been striving toward all along, in both the Panlong world and the real world? *** In the west of the Yuan Kingdom, Blackwater City. At dusk, the merchant Liu Baobao was escorting a guest toward an inn. This guest was a dark, chubby man with bushy body hair and a pungent body odor strong enough to make anyone want to flee at first whiff—yet ironically, he dealt in the spice trade. Liu Baobao had deep doubts about whether the quality of the man's goods could be any good. What a pity. Back when former Prefect He Chunhua governed Qiansong Commandery, the Red Cliff Trade Route had flourished brilliantly. But after a new prefect took office, in less than two years, doing business in Blackwater City had become more than twice as difficult! Otherwise, why would he ever put on a smiling face for this foul-smelling fat bastard? In the past, his Liu family wouldn't have spared a second glance for such a petty, second-rate merchant! While Liu Baobao was muttering grievances in his heart, a figure suddenly flashed across the marketplace opposite them, a cloak masking half the face. In this cold weather, dressing like that was perfectly normal, and there was nothing remarkable about the person's attire. Yet Liu Baobao froze in his tracks. That face—he knew it all too well! How could it be? That person ought to be thousands of li away! "Brother Liu? Brother Liu?" the dark fat man called out to him. "What's the matter with you?" Liu Baobao collected himself. He had caught only a hurried glimpse before the figure turned a corner and vanished. That was toward the North Gate. An illusion. Surely it had to be an illusion! "Nothing, just mistook someone for an acquaintance. Come, come, let me see you to the inn." The dark fat man rubbed his hands together with a grin. "Staying at Hongyun Inn is covered by the Liu Firm, right?" Liu Baobao forced a tight smile. "Of course." *Damned fat bastard, grasping at every little petty advantage!* Once inside Hongyun Inn, the fat man immediately barked to the waiter, "A premium room, and bring plenty of Changyu charcoal—make sure the room is warm!" He then turned back to Liu Baobao with a smile. "Many thanks for your hospitality, Brother Liu!" "Don't mention it." Liu Baobao hated standing anywhere near him. "I thought I saw an old acquaintance just now, so I'll go check. Brother Bao, you've traveled from afar; go freshen up and get some rest." Without waiting for the fat man's reply, he turned and left the inn. In this season, Blackwater City saw very few outside visitors. Although it had started merely as an excuse to brush off the fat man, after stepping outside, Liu Baobao genuinely became preoccupied with that "old acquaintance." Yet as he headed all the way toward the North Gate, he caught no further sight of the person from before. Had his eyes truly played tricks on him? A guard happened to be walking down from atop the city gate, covering his mouth as he yawned. Not that he was trying to look refined; rather, the windblown sand was fierce now, and without covering his mouth, he would swallow a mouthful of grit. Liu Baobao happened to know this guard. "Leader Chen!" He stepped forward with a smiling greeting. "Busy today?" "Nah," the guard replied lazily. "What's there to be busy with during the wild sand season?" Right now was the wild sand season: people from the north couldn't come across, and people from the south certainly wouldn't head north. It was the quietest and safest time of the year for Blackwater City. "Leader Chen, when you were up high just now, did you see a tall fellow in a cloak heading toward the North Gate?" He had asked only offhandedly, but to his surprise, the guard immediately asked back, "A dusty-yellow cloak?" "Ah, yes, yes! Dusty yellow." "He left the city." "What?" That was truly the last answer he expected. "Left the city?!" Beyond Blackwater City to the north lay the famous Red Cliff Road. During the wild sand season, the Red Cliff Road was a dead end that led straight to the grave, known even to women and children. Why would anyone go out there? The guard added, "From the gate tower, I saw him heading north and shouted after him several times, but the fellow didn't even turn his head. He just raised a hand and waved a couple of times." Waving proved he had heard the guard's shouts. "If he's tired of living, how could I stop him? Wouldn't you say?" Truth be told, the guard couldn't be bothered to stop him anyway. Who in Blackwater City didn't know you couldn't venture into the desert during this season? What, you say you didn't know? Then you had it coming. Besides, people went missing every year during the wild sand season. Some had simply lost all hope or reached the end of their ropes; they stood straight in the astral winds, and puff—gone, painless and without side effects. Liu Baobao could only nod. "Right, right." He instinctively glanced out beyond the city gate. Had the man truly gone to commit suicide? Although the lethal sands of the Panlong Desert didn't blow straight into the city, barely more than a li north of the gate, visibility turned murky, lost in a dim yellow haze. If it were truly the person from his memory, why would he choose this time of all times to head north? With nothing else to be done, Liu Baobao turned back with a bellyful of questions. *** He Lingchuan pulled his cloak tight around himself and strode out of the city. North of Blackwater City, not a soul could be seen along the long stretch of the Red Cliff Road. Sky and earth were dyed the same shade, an expanse of murky yellow. He had heard the sentry atop the Blackwater City gate shouting at him, but he never looked back. Sure enough, after a couple of shouts, the guard gave up, muttering a couple of curses about a "short-lived ghost," and no one came chasing after He Lingchuan. This was the edge of the Panlong Desert; there weren't many righteous do-gooders eager to save lives or talk people out of dying. His figure soon vanished into the swirling yellow sand. To any outsider, this was an act of suicide. Yet only He Lingchuan knew that whenever the raging sandstorms rushed past him, they parted on their own. Not a single grain of sand landed on his cloak; it remained completely spotless.