Chapter 13: Problems Solvable with Money Aren

Leaving Lan's Pharmacy, Feng Xue slung his heavy backpack over his shoulders but had no intention of finding an inn to set it down; though the county seemed peacefully simple, he couldn't shake a sense of unreality.

How to put it? It felt like watching a screenwriter who'd skipped history class depict some coastal town from a bygone era as prosperous and peaceful—utterly defying common sense.

So even though everything so far suggested this county's folk were simple and honest, the instinctive distrust ingrained in him toward eras so similar to the Blood Pot period made him choose to carry his belongings on his back, no matter how tired it made him.

Now that he'd met Doctor Lan, Feng Xue pondered briefly, then decided to visit the mortuary first.

First, there was a clear address: "Chengbei Mortuary"; second, "Daoist Priest" sounded more reliable than "shamaness," especially since this one bore the surname Qian.

Though Feng Xue wasn't the type to harbor surname prejudice, years of watching movies and TV dramas had conditioned him to assume people surnamed Qian were greedy; add to that the title of Daoist Priest… his mind naturally conjured an image of someone who "took money to banish calamities."

Problems solvable with money aren't problems—since his transmigration, Feng Xue deepened his understanding of this phrase nearly every day.

In Yingzhou, where mahjong was played for real cash, he could've easily become a gambling god or mahjong saint thanks to his cheat ability, amassing piles of bills—but he still chose to gamble on luck, for he knew his streak of drawing pure Nine Lotus was pure fortune, and he couldn't guarantee he'd ever draw it again.

Living is about peace of mind; rather than spending every day in mahjong halls just to grind for nine more years of life, Feng Xue preferred to take a gamble.

Walking north along the street, Feng Xue soon spotted a relatively dilapidated area—not a slum, but one with far fewer people than Chengnan; only children played on the roads, presumably because their parents were at work.

"Kid, do you know where the mortuary is?"

He stopped a child who was screaming and sprinting, pulled out a fruit hard candy from his emergency sugar stash, and handed it over; the child stared at the candy, immediately pointed farther down the road, and chirped in a high-pitched voice—

"Go a bit further that way—my mom won't let me play over there."

"Thanks! Here, remember to peel off the wrapper!"

Feng Xue handed the candy to the child, who hesitated a moment before taking it—but didn't eat it, instead stuffing it into his pocket.

Feng Xue didn't ask why; he simply followed the direction the child indicated, and as the surrounding houses grew sparse, he finally saw what must've been the mortuary.

It was a courtyard that looked classical at first glance, but upon closer inspection revealed brick-and-tile construction with glass windows—a "fake-ancient" structure; paired with the barren wasteland around it and the broken bricks and tiles visible in the corners, it radiated a chilling aura.

"This place is packed with yin energy!"

"Alright, looks like it's not an illusion."

Hearing Bai She mutter suddenly, Feng Xue internally sighed and gently stroked the scale on his ring:

"You've been silent this whole time—I thought you'd fallen asleep!"

"You took me to a place like this and ask why I'm quiet?" Bai She's voice sharpened abruptly; Feng Xue had no idea which trigger he'd hit, so he ventured cautiously:

"What place? The proper herbalist spirit-mediums are the kindest White Immortals—didn't your fox spirit grandma become a protective spirit too?"

"How can that be the same? That was a hedgehog! It terrified snakes! When she looked at me, I thought I'd be eaten!" Bai She cried in terror; Feng Xue was speechless—how to put it…

"I just don't get animal fears."

To humans, isn't the snake the scarier one between snakes and hedgehogs?

After Feng Xue said that, Bai She shut down again; Feng Xue was used to it by now. He paused briefly at the gate, saw no "Master knew you'd come" trope unfold, then knocked three times on the door ring.

"Thud! Thud! Thud!"

The dull clank of the door ring echoed; even in daylight, Feng Xue felt a chilling aura.

Soon, footsteps approached from afar; resisting the urge to leap over the wall with a bird's-eye view, Feng Xue waited quietly for a few seconds before the heavy door creaked open on wooden hinges.

"Sir, are you…?"

The young man opening the door wore a long robe with two pockets on the chest; from one pocket extended a silver chain—likely a pocket watch.

The youth was slightly handsome but carried an air of gloom—not malicious or cruel, but as if he hadn't slept for nights, yet had no dark circles; crucially, in Feng Xue's over-the-shoulder view, this young man had only twenty years of yang life left.

The youth looked barely twenty; such a short lifespan immediately made Feng Xue question Qian Daoist's abilities.

But then he recalled Doctor Lan's mention of "nourishing the spirit with qi-blood" and "spiritual feedback," and politely said:

"Hello, I'm here to see Master Qian."

"I'm sorry, my master is attending to a yin dwelling and won't return for a couple of days—if you have a matter, I'll relay it to him later."

The youth stood at the threshold, offering no invitation to enter; given this was a mortuary, it made sense.

Feng Xue felt no disappointment—on the contrary, he was pleased; a retired old Daoist was harder to fool than a young one.

He weighed his options internally, then said aloud:

"So you're Master Qian's top disciple—surely you're also a high-level xuan cultivator!"

"No, no!" The youth clearly wasn't used to flattery; though he protested, his lips already twitched upward.

Just then, another voice came from inside the courtyard—

"Brother, did Master forget something… oh, who's this?"

A figure stepped into Feng Xue's view; this one was two years younger than the first, dressed in unranked Daoist acolyte robes, his gloom less intense, and his life span above his head…

"Fifteen thousand… about forty years—not much, but definitely not little." Feng Xue swiftly calculated, then said:

"I'm here to learn xuan techniques, but I have no access; I heard Master Qian is a great master—I don't seek to become his disciple, only to find a path to learn. I'm quite wealthy—I'll reward you handsomely if you help!"

"Ah…?" The older youth looked startled; the younger one had already reached the door and shook his head:

"Our master isn't here—he won't return for two or three days. Come back then!"

"So he's not money-driven?" Feng Xue muttered inwardly, wondering whether to invite them to the county's best restaurant to flaunt his wealth—when the older youth suddenly spoke up:

"What are you saying? Master said guests from afar must be treated well—look at how heavy his bag is! He traveled far; let him rest, have a drink!"

Hearing this, Feng Xue suppressed his smile, though inwardly thought—

"This might work!"

Regarding the issue of repeatedly grinding for Nine Lotus.

It's possible, but not nearly as simple as it seems. The protagonist drew it not because he cheated, but because he was lucky—pure Nine Lotus simply cannot be drawn through cheating.

The probability of pure Nine Lotus is less than one in 220,000—in other words, only one out of 220,000 mahjong games might yield pure Nine Lotus Lantern.

At five minutes per game (a half-round, or two rounds, takes about half an hour; five minutes per single game isn't long, even with online mahjong's burning tiles—face-to-face "bladder games" exist too), four people playing nonstop would need over two years.

But humans can't eat, drink, or sleep forever; add in finding partners, starting games, and mahjong hall conditions, even one-quarter of the day spent playing is ideal. In other words, if the protagonist wanted to extend his life via Nine Lotus Lantern, he'd have to play mahjong day and night, endlessly chasing Nine Lotus—this method of prolonging life is worse than just dying; at least then he'd have nine years to enjoy freely.

The same applies to other curses; most lifespan curses cause rapid, immediate death, because people rarely wish "may X die in ten years"—they wish "die now." Thus, curses usable for life extension are rare, with uncertain triggers, making them hard to activate.

As for the protagonist drawing it in just days—let's just say he was lucky, and I've already noted he prepared for failure; if he hadn't drawn it before his self-imposed deadline, he'd have gambled on luck anyway.





(End of Chapter)