In the night, the streets of Yue City were bustling with activity, the lanterns weaving a tapestry of light. Osmanthus trees lined the roadside, their fragrance wafting beyond the clouds, petals fluttering down onto the tattered hemp robe of the old cripple telling fortunes and reading feng shui under the trees.

The old cripple held a charcoal stick, scribbling strange symbols on a dirty white cloth, occasionally closing his eyes, shaking his head and swaying, engaged in some mysterious activity.

A few idle young nobles, dressed in bright garments, some fanning themselves, some wearing swords, stood by watching. After whispering among themselves, they pushed out a brocade-clad young man who kicked the old cripple. "Old cripple, what are you doing?"

The unsightly old man showed no anger, smiling as he replied, "Fortune-telling."

The young nobles looked at each other and burst into laughter. "Old cripple, don't tell me you're divining when you'll be able to marry - I think Widow Zhao on Double Moon Street would be perfect for you!"

The old cripple actually seemed to ponder this, his cloudy old eyes slowly turning, sighing, "She probably wouldn't want an old geezer like me."

The brocade-clad young man from earlier was spurred on by the old cripple's reaction, grinning as he said, "Old cripple, I see no one has come to patronize your broken-down stall since Young Master Chen left. Why don't you tell this young master's fortune - if you get it right, I'll reward you with a hefty sum of silver. Forget widows, you could even marry a beautiful young maiden!"

The old cripple looked at him, slowly closing his eyes. "What does the young master wish to divine?"

"Divine when my family will rise to prominence!"

The old cripple flipped over the dirty white cloth, the other side also bearing charcoal marks, winding and twisting like crawling earthworms.

The brocade-clad man had never seen such a strange talisman. "What is this?"

The old cripple picked up the charcoal stick. "A fate chart."

The other young nobles also craned their necks, wanting to see how this old man would deceive them.

The old cripple first asked the brocade-clad man's date of birth, then his place of birth, current residence, blood relations in his family - even the weather on the day he was born.

The brocade-clad man grew impatient with his questioning, but seeing how unusual this fortune-telling method was, he answered everything.

With each answer, the old cripple added a stroke to the strange symbols. When the white cloth was nearly filled, the old cripple said, "It's done."

The young man asked, "When? Is it about to happen now?"

The old cripple twirled his sparse beard. "Rising to prominence is not possible. In less than three hundred days, your family will be ruined and your people will perish."

The brocade-clad young master's face changed. He cursed, "This old fraud with a death wish!"

At this, without the young master needing to act himself, the sturdy servants behind him charged forward menacingly and began beating and kicking the old cripple.

The old cripple was kicked and beaten until he was curled up on the ground, nearly motionless.

In the end, the other young nobles with him brought up the joke about the old cripple rolling and crawling as Butcher Wang chased him with a knife for eight streets, which they used as proof that this old fraud's words could not be trusted. The brocade-clad young master's anger dissipated, and the beating finally stopped.

"No point in this. Let's go watch the poetry gathering - I heard His Majesty is summoning talented scholars. Next spring they'll compose poems about peach blossoms and beauties. I wonder which of our talented scholars in Yue City will be chosen."

After the young masters and their vicious servants left, the half-dead old cripple crawled up from the ground. The onlookers who had gathered to watch the spectacle also slowly dispersed - this kind of endlessly entertaining scene was enough to provide gossip for several days after returning home.

The old cripple's face was covered in dust and had a few bruises. He flipped the dirty white cloth back over, loosened his muscles and bones. He showed no signs of pain, not like someone who had just been brutally beaten.

He muttered to himself, "Ever since that lad surnamed Chen left, things have been so dull."

He dotted the white cloth with the charcoal stick a few times, pondering, and slowly said, "In a while, there will be some excitement in the south. This old geezer can't travel far. I won't go join in. Besides, there will be other excitement in the city after spring arrives. I'm old, can't move around much."

He chuckled. "Excitement, heh, excitement - a person lives a lifetime just for a few bouts of excitement. What a pity, she doesn't understand, the others don't understand. Even that surnamed Chen only understands a little bit so far."

After this inscrutable lament, the old man leaned against the osmanthus tree, closed his eyes, ignoring the music, pipes, and brilliant lights in the city.

The "lad surnamed Chen" was awakened by the gentle, lingering sound of a flute.

The melody carried a hint of gentle warmth, making one think of moonlight over a river pavilion, of apricot blossom rain - in any case, it was extremely pleasant.

However, although the flute music was beautiful, it disturbed his sleep, which was quite unfortunate.

He lazily opened his eyes and found himself sleeping in a carriage, a warm fur robe draped over him. A candle flickered on the small table in the middle, half-burned. Across from him sat Ye Jiuya, his ink-dark eyes still cold and indifferent, as if empty.

He had previously, due to the time being not yet ripe, forcibly comprehended a layer of the heavenly realm, and with the added pressure of the Heavenly Dao, the qi in his body had been chaotic and reversed. But now it was much smoother - presumably someone had intervened to smooth it out.

Chen Weichen sat up, embracing the brocade robe, leaning against the soft cushion behind him. He narrowed his eyes and smiled. "Ye Jiuya, in just a few days, you've saved my life many times. I truly have no way to repay you - how about I offer myself to you?"

Ye Jiuya had grown up on the snowy mountain peaks, listening to the profound truths of immortals, practicing top-notch swordsmanship. He had never encountered someone with such thick skin, or such ambiguous banter.

He frowned, a hint of displeasure in his voice.

"Chen Weichen, how long are you going to keep joking around?"

Chen Weichen comfortably stretched his muscles and bones, a bit stiff from being unconscious. He opened the curtain and gazed at the moon on the horizon. "At the city gate of my hometown, you saw that old crippled fortune-teller. He never said many good things, and some I couldn't understand. But one phrase I remember clearly, he said - who can predict tomorrow's troubles, play for as many days as you can."

Ye Jiuya no longer spoke to him.

The flute music lingered, the carriage was silent. It painted a tranquil, leisurely atmosphere.

Outside the carriage, the red-clothed girl who had been practicing swordsmanship on level ground had stopped, leaning on her sword as she looked in one direction.

Looking further out, there was a Daoist priest meditating, a black cat curled up beside him, purring.

The carriage curtain was lifted, revealing the fair, delicate face of a young servant. "Young master, you're awake?"

"The one being serenaded by the flute was awakened," Chen Weichen urged Ye Jiuya, "Swordmaster Ye, quickly go and meet that flute-playing beauty - this cannot be neglected."

As he spoke, a figure playing the flute with an ethereal aura indeed slowly emerged under the moonlight. Dressed in green, he was a man with a gentle and handsome face.

The flute music gradually lowered, then layered heavily, becoming denser, like the spring breeze sweeping across the vast green sea.

Ye Jiuya drew out his Jiuya sword and tapped the blade three times with his fingers.

The sword body trembled slightly, and a clear ringing sound echoed, like pearls splashing on jade, meeting the flute sound.

The flute sound gradually weakened and finally could not continue.

The man put down his flute and bowed to the carriage, "Thank you, Swordmaster Ye, for your guidance."

He came like a wisp and left like a wisp.

The moon slowly set on the horizon, the east brightened, and dawn was approaching.

"That was Marquis Chenshu, probably drawn by the commotion in the Jinxiu Ghost City, and guessed that Swordmaster Ye was here and came to seek advice," Xie Lang said to Wen Hui, who kept asking questions beside him. "He abandoned Confucianism for Daoism, does not use swords, and specializes in music. He is actually from your mortal world."

"So it's him!" Wen Hui's eyes lit up. "I know, it's the scholar who 'left the imperial capital in green robes, and sank the books of sages into the water'!"

"It's really strange that the human world can turn a scholar determined to cultivate himself and manage his family into a Daoist practitioner." Xie Lang shrugged.

"My young master said that the current emperor only likes to listen to poetry and songs and loves talented scholars, not bookish ones - I guess he couldn't find an official position, so he had no choice but to throw the sage's books into the water and cultivate immortality unencumbered."

The Daoist hit him with a feather duster, "Confucianism and Daoism are not as simple as you think."

On the other side, the girl in red found a small stream, took off her golden armor mask, and scooped up the cool autumn stream water to wash her face.

Seeing this, Wen Hui remembered his duties and ran to the stream to serve his young master, whose right hand had not fully healed, to wash up.

The stream water reflected the girl's image, her eyes and lips were extremely beautiful, but both sides of her face had hideous burn marks.

"Lady Lu, when I saw you in the illusion, half of your face was still intact." Chen Weichen hinted.

"The other side was burned by primordial yang fire," the girl did not hide it. "I was ignorant and thought I could defeat the newborn phoenix alone. I almost lost my life there. I happened to meet Ye Jiuya, who also came to take the blood, and was saved by him - the ancient auspicious beast has the power of heaven and earth, and he did not escape unscathed either, leaving a wound on his right shoulder."

"Lady Lu, I see you two talking about blood and incense all the way. What big thing are you going to do?" Wen Hui asked with a quick mouth.

"Spiritual medicine can remove such marks, but I insist on keeping them," the girl's voice revealed a stubbornness bordering on obsession, not answering the question. "Until the day I uncover the truth behind my family's annihilation and repay the life-saving grace, I will not remove these scars."

Chen Weichen casually stirred the water, "Lady Lu, why bother."

The servant chimed in, "Yes, Lady Lu, it's good to keep the grace and grudges in your heart. Why make your face suffer? It's not worth it."

The girl laughed coldly, "What do you understand."

She picked up the mask and put it back on, "I came to cultivate immortality, participate in the ways of heaven and earth, and seek eternal life—all for a carefree and happy existence, which for me means cutting off the heads of my enemies and restoring the life of my benefactor. How can there be anything not worth it!"

Her eyes were extremely determined, and she added resentfully, "Even if his soul shatters into thousands of pieces, when Ye Jiuya and I get those few things and open the Platform of Life and Creation, we can still piece him back together without missing a single piece!"

After saying this, the girl turned and left. The servant scratched his head in confusion, "Young Master, what did Lady Lu say at the end?"

But the young master did not enlighten him either, and said leisurely, "Let's go, let's go - I heard that the scenery in the South Sea is very beautiful. Let's go with the immortal seniors to broaden our horizons."