The prince of Sui wore a completely indifferent expression. "As long as I got my hands on this 'Dragon Gate' seal, the mission was already a success. Who would've thought that this invaluable treasure would end up as nothing more than a sweetener in a larger deal? We should know when to quit while we're ahead. Speaking of that golden carp, I can't help but think of that straw-sandaled boy…"
The eunuch smiled. "Your Highness is thinking of finding a chance to thank the boy in the future?"
The young prince shook his head. "Of course not. I just feel bad about that bag of copper coins."
The old eunuch was momentarily stunned before laughing out loud.
Perhaps the Sui Dynasty would one day have a frugal emperor?
————
A secluded alley running north to south, with only the sound of cart wheels rolling along.
The young Taoist, wearing a lotus hat, had closed his business early today. He was pushing his cart forward, planning to return to his lodging, pack up, and get out of town as soon as possible. This mess—whoever got involved in it would be doomed.
Suddenly, a slender figure clad in black staggered out from an alleyway running east to west. The person leaned against a wall, slowly sliding down. One hand reached past the sheer veil of her hat, pressing desperately against her mouth, while the other pointed straight at the young Taoist.
The Taoist quickly lowered his head and muttered under his breath, "You can't see me… You can't see me… By the decree of the Supreme Elder Lord… No, forget it, Buddha bless me instead, Bodhisattva, please intervene…"
For a Taoist to seek help from the Buddha and Bodhisattva in a time of crisis—it was truly disgraceful.
Sure enough, the Buddha and Bodhisattva did not seem inclined to look after an outsider's disciple. Summoning the last of her strength, the veiled girl staggered toward the Taoist before collapsing with a heavy thud. Yet, even in unconsciousness, her hand clenched tightly around his ankle.
The young Taoist clutched his head with both hands, looking utterly distraught, as if he were gazing up at the heavens in despair. "Why is such a massive karmic burden crashing down on me? I might as well carve 'Desperately Seeking Death' across my forehead! I've spent years wandering the land, braving the elements, crossing mountains and rivers, and getting chased and bitten by stray dogs in every town—do you have any idea how miserable that is?! Damn you, Sui Dynasty! And that old eunuch Wu! Just you wait—this debt won't be settled in five hundred years! My cultivation is so meager; I can't bear such a heavy burden…"
The increasingly incoherent Taoist looked down, barely holding back tears. "Young lady, have a little mercy. Let me go, please. I'll find you a place with clear waters and lush mountains, excellent feng shui, perfect for blessing future generations—oh, wait, no, you're still an unmarried maiden, so that doesn't apply…"
Before he could finish, the girl had already slipped into unconsciousness.
The young Daoist, seeing that no one was around, crouched down and was about to quietly pry open the girl's fingers.
Whoosh.
The flying sword shot through the air and hovered, its tip just one inch away from the young Daoist's forehead.
The young Daoist calmly released his grip, his face full of pity, and said with righteous solemnity, "People are not grass or wood; how could they not have compassion? In my life, I've enjoyed bright days, how could I be the kind of person to ignore a life in danger?"
The young Daoist sat cross-legged, his handsome face creased in thought, "The next problem is where to send her. It's troublesome, really."
The flying sword, which had been hovering just one inch from the Daoist's forehead, moved forward a fraction.
The Daoist patiently explained, "In order to keep your master alive, I'll need some help. By the way, go over to the old locust tree and pick a locust leaf. I'll stabilize her qi first. Your master is a bit special, so I don't want to hastily intervene and risk harming her cultivation path. If I mess up, this new karma… damn it, I might as well just die to resolve everything…"
The flying sword seemed to hesitate, its tip trembling slightly.
The Daoist snapped impatiently, "If you'd flown off just a moment earlier, your master might've had a better shot at escaping death's door. Wait any longer, and you'll all be doomed!"
In the blink of an eye, the sword vanished.
The Daoist muttered angrily under his breath, "Qi Jingchun, playing matchmaker like a blind fool, making a mess and not even bothering to clean up after!"
The young Daoist rested his cheek on one hand and began divining with the other. "Let me see which household in the little town I should send you to... so you might survive, and they won't end up ruined either. Start with the Lu family? No good—same as the Zhao family, both already entangled in fate. Then maybe... the Song family?"
Before he could finish his words in the alley—
Over on Fortune Street, the door gods pasted on every entrance to the Song residence suddenly lost their divine glow, turning dull and lifeless. Wisps of smoke, invisible to mortal eyes, rose into the air.
From deep within the courtyard, a barefooted old man flung open a door. His weathered face twisted in rage as he stomped his feet and roared, "Who's the bastard trying to sabotage the Song family's fortune?! Step forward and face me if you've got the guts!"
The young Daoist gave a light cough and murmured, "How about the Liu family on Fortune Street? Looks like they've got strong incense and solid luck—might be able to handle it. Worth a shot."
The ancestral plaque of the Liu family, passed down for over a thousand years, suddenly shattered with a loud crack. Jagged fractures snaked across it, shocking to behold.
A hoarse old woman's voice rang out as her dragon-headed cane slammed against the ground, "Which divine being is stirring trouble? Show yourself!"
The young Daoist pretended not to notice a thing. "Then perhaps the Wei family on Peach Leaf Alley? Your household fairly reeks of accumulated virtue—surely you can handle the karmic weight."
Almost immediately, an elder transmitted a furious message through a secret art, his voice howling toward the academy, "Qi Jingchun! Aren't you going to do something? If you can't—or won't—step down and let Ruan Qiong take your place! Let him deal with this sneaky little bastard! Or is all of this... your personal vendetta, Qi Jingchun?!"
South of the covered bridge, by a stream where a man was overseeing a well-digging crew, he straightened up and moved his lips toward the north.
Like spring thunder rolling through the heavens, a voice rumbled over Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Alley: "That's enough! No one is to speak ill of Mister Qi. And I, Ruan, will not involve myself in the town's affairs before the Spring Equinox!"
In an instant, the world fell utterly silent.
Meanwhile, back in the alley, the real troublemaker sat beside a wooden cart. He took hold of the black-clad girl's hand and placed the green locust leaf—brought by the flying sword—into her bloodied palm.
The moment the leaf touched her wound, it melted away like ice under the sun.
The young Daoist sighed in awe, "Every time I see something like this, I can't help but marvel at the workings of Heaven and Earth…"
He paused for a long while, struggling to find the right words—yet none came.
At last, he looked down at the girl, whose face had regained the faintest trace of color, and muttered, somewhat at a loss, "Turns out the fate entangled with you is far more complex than I'd imagined. Which means... I'll have to go against the grain." He scratched his head. "This little town has six hundred households, tangled up in generations of spiritual resonance. If I needed to find someone blessed with fate, easy as pie. But someone with nothing—someone truly destitute? That's like trying to find a beggar inside the imperial court! Sure, I could point out the ministers, the nobles... But a pauper? How the hell am I supposed to do that?"
The young Daoist let out a soft "hmm?"
He'd really found such a wretched soul.
But instead of surprise, a chill ran down his spine. He shut his eyes and searched his conscience.
With a sigh, he muttered, "Well, whatever happens... let's see what choice you make. I won't force your hand. If you refuse, I'll shoulder this karma myself."
Then, imitating a monk, he pressed his palms together and prayed, "May the Buddha bless me, may the Bodhisattvas shine their light—please, let this poor Daoist survive the trial ahead…"
————
In Mud Bottle Alley.
The young Daoist bent over, pushing a two-wheeled cart until he came to a stop outside a courtyard gate. He knocked, then asked,"Is Chen Ping'an home?"
Tucked away in the corner of the cart, half-hidden in a crevice, lay a long sword in a snow-white scabbard. Inside, the flying sword seemed weak and dispirited—almost as if it were sulking, disgusted that the young Daoist had picked such a pathetic household.