Chapter 32: Safety Demands Vigilance

At dawn, Jiugu performed her morning rites before the ancestral tablet, then replenished the incense for the villagers before lazily taking her seat and picking up a boiled egg from beside the teapot for breakfast.

Crack…

The eggshell struck the table, and a circle of cracks spread outward. Jiugu reached out—then a sudden surge of intuition struck her. She instantly formed a hand seal with one hand, murmured incantations, and her gaze grew slightly unfocused.

Without warning, her body froze in place. Her eyes returned to the cracked egg, and she frowned.

“Strange. Where did this karmic debt come from, out of nowhere?”

As a Xuan cultivator, Jiugu never dismissed sudden intuitions as coincidence—and the cracks on the egg carried meaning. Though divination was not her forte, a spirit medium had to know at least a little.

At this moment, through mystical perception and interpretation, the cracks on the egg clearly indicated…

“Good morning, Jiugu!”

Jiugu looked at Feng Xue—the same young man she’d met just yesterday—and her expression darkened slightly. Over these past few days, he was the only person she’d interacted with deeply, and his weary face…

“I told you to moderate yourself! You’re just a rumor dealer—why did you have to push yourself to the brink and make me pay the price? Even if you’re desperate for windfall luck, you could’ve gone to the madam… Could that merchant have swindled me? That makes no sense!”

Jiugu’s mind raced with muttered curses, but she dared not voice them outright. Instead, she spoke with as much concern as she could muster: “You haven’t slept all night, have you? Wait—I’ll brew you some divine tea. You’re young; learn restraint. Even cultivators—”

“Where do you get that idea? I rode back all night from Shenshuigang,” Feng Xue cut her off, knowing exactly what she was thinking. Jiugu hesitated internally but said nothing, instead asking:

“Then why did you rush back here all night? Let me be clear—I don’t take jobs handling ghosts!”

Feng Xue had long given up correcting Jiugu’s stubborn misdirection. He cut straight to the point:

“I want to buy two Hu Tian spell pouches. What’s the price?”

“Oh? I thought you planned to make your own!” Jiugu perked up instantly. In truth, offering Hu Tian spells for sale was itself an implicit hint that she handled related services—after all, such spells couldn’t be learned from a mere manual.

Feng Xue merely shook his head:

“I’ll learn it eventually—but does that mean I can’t buy furniture until I finish learning carpentry? Do you have any? If not, I’ll ask that foreign monk.”

“No, no, no! That foreign devil knows nothing about the microcosm within the macrocosm, the universe in a gourd!” Jiugu panicked at the mention of the foreign monk and snapped:

“I have two options for Hu Tian pouches. One: a pair of Yin and Yang pouches sold together for two guan, but the internal energy lasts only three months—you’ll need to replenish it yourself or come back here for a top-up at 100 wen per month. The other: leave the Yin pouch here, keep the Yang pouch with you. I’ll replenish the Yin pouch’s energy and devotional power monthly—you just use it. Each pouch costs one guan, but there’s a 300-wen monthly storage fee. The Yin pouch is one zhang square—enough to fit a small room inside.”

Having bought Hu Tian spells before, Feng Xue understood immediately. He pulled out ten banknotes of one guan each:

“I’ll take the second option—with three years’ storage fee.”

“Straightforward!” Jiugu’s eyes lit up at the ten one-guan notes. She gestured, and the black ghostly shadow she’d seen before appeared instantly to fetch the goods. Yet she didn’t forget her earlier intuition and asked:

“You’re paying for three years at once—have you run into trouble?”

“Nothing serious. You know I’m just traveling. I’ve stayed in Pingan County for a few days—it’s time to move on.” Feng Xue didn’t know what Jiugu suspected, but he had no intention of mentioning the Port Gang. He gave a vague reply.

Jiugu couldn’t press him further. But unresolved karmic debt only grew heavier. After a moment’s thought, she took a sheet of yellow paper, scooped a pinch of incense ash from the altar’s censer, folded it into a triangle, and handed it to Feng Xue:

“You’re a major customer. This protective talisman is my gift—may your journey be smooth.”

Feng Xue stared at the talisman, hesitated, then accepted it. He tucked it into his pocket alongside the Hu Tian pouch and took his leave.

“Now the debt’s settled.” Watching Feng Xue depart, Jiugu felt a sudden release—her whole body grew lighter. Yet this very relief made her feel stranger still:

“In all my years in business, I’ve never encountered a transaction so willingly agreed upon that still left a karmic debt. No—I must find that merchant and ask. I won’t be cheated without retaliation!”

…

Ignoring Jiugu’s turmoil, Feng Xue had returned to the house he’d rented for months but only stayed in for days. He stuffed all the rice, flour, oil, and provisions inside the Hu Tian pouch—no larger than a palm.

Though the pouch’s opening was no bigger than a fist, anything placed against it would shrink as if distorted by a funhouse mirror.

But the Hu Tian pouch could only hold inanimate objects—or things without sentience. Otherwise, it would’ve made an excellent weapon against enemies.

“Still, if the principle of the Hu Tian pouch relies on devotional energy, wouldn’t filtering that energy make it possible to create a treasure like the Purple Gold Gourd—one that can trap living beings?”

Feng Xue had cultivated too briefly to know whether Xuan cultivators in this world had mastered such techniques. He simply shoved all his belongings into the pouch, feeling instantly lighter, then left Pingan County.

…

A white mountain bike rolled along a bumpy dirt road. Feng Xue mentally reviewed his recent “failure.”

At first glance, the biggest mistake was his clothing. After arriving in Pingan County, his windbreaker had earned him special treatment, leading him to assume everywhere operated the same way. He never changed into local attire—and that’s why he was easily spotted in Shenshuigang.

But upon deeper reflection, many details emerged. For instance, he entered the antique shop right in front of the rickshaw driver—meaning, whether dressed well or poorly, he carried money or valuables.

From this angle, his real mistake was revealing his destination to a rickshaw driver while utterly unfamiliar with the area?

Of course, this isn’t to say he shouldn’t have hired a rickshaw—but he shouldn’t have chosen those waiting near brothels. As low-income workers, those who loiter by the roadside waiting for customers differ from those who actively roam for fares—let alone those parked near brothels. Even a transplant like Feng Xue, if he thought about it, couldn’t miss the parallel to modern “professional beggars” and “Beggars’ Sects” who monopolize begging spots.

“So, I was truly too careless!”

Regarding character personality: Those who’ve read my previous works should know I dislike flat, direct descriptions like “the protagonist is a XX person.” Even when I do describe traits, I embed them in context—not dump them as static traits. My protagonists evolve. To understand how he became who he is, you must trace his experiences.

Take my last novel, Dream Inquiry: readers watched the protagonist grow from “trembling at the sight of corpses” to “when in doubt, just die, damn it”—a hardened, ruthless man. But no one found his transformation jarring, right?

I believe a character’s personality must evolve with his experiences. The reason this novel’s protagonist became decisive and ruthless isn’t because he was born a killer—it’s because of those dozen days I skipped.

This protagonist was born with only sixty days left to live. Every day was a countdown. Unlike the protagonist of the horror tale, who also counted down but had clear methods to extend his life and a decent power-up path, he wasn’t panicked—he could just follow the routine.

But this protagonist was transplanted into a low-magic world with no visible supernatural forces. Though he constantly sought ways to extend his life, every option demanded a final leap—either crash headfirst into a truck, or gamble on a 1-in-220,000 chance. After holding on for over a dozen days, his personality naturally hardened: more decisive, more resolute, more ruthless, even bordering on madness.

Why didn’t I write those days in detail? Because they’re boring. Nothing worth writing. Better to leave blanks for readers to imagine.





(End of Chapter)