Chapter 86: Could This Brat Be My Human Calamity?

“Could there be something wrong with my Golden Fingers? That’s impossible?”

After a brief moment of shock, Feng Xue forcibly steadied his breath; though under the gaze of his Golden Fingers, this man’s head showed no Yu Shou response, he likewise bore no cultivation aura—no matter how he looked, he appeared nothing but an ordinary beggar.

He tried shifting the scope of [Observing Heavenly Lifespan] from “the beggar before him” to all surrounding lifeforms, and without doubt, it was a flood of numbers, nearly filling his entire field of vision.

“So the problem isn’t my Golden Fingers… then it must be this man? Or perhaps—actually a ghost?”

Feng Xue swiftly entertained this thought, then, as if naturally ending his practice upon hearing a sound, slowly opened his eyes; as his vision confirmed the man’s presence, the answer “ghost” was immediately dismissed.

He had never learned any technique like Heavenly Eye or Yin-Yang Eye—his naked eyes could not perceive spiritual forms at all—and though the man’s skin bore a sickly dullness, it differed clearly from the stiff, bluish-purple rigidity of a zombie; he was surely not a corpse or anything similar.

This was the first time Feng Xue had ever encountered a living being with no Yu Shou visible; in his mind, if this wasn’t a puppet remotely controlled by someone, then it must be a master who had transcended life and death.

“If this were a puppet, it should still have some cultivation aura!”

As Feng Xue reached this conclusion, he made up his mind and called out behind him:

“Yunxi!”

“Huh? What’s up?” At Feng Xue’s call, the window on the second floor of the mansion burst open; Liu Yunxi, who had just been meditating to refine the Taiyin energy gathered the previous night, leaned out, looking down in confusion.

“Prepare some easily digestible food for this old man!”

Feng Xue gave the order as if casually, but internally he had already linked with Mo Ying—

“Is there something wrong with this man?”

“Huh? He’s just an ordinary person!” Mo Ying didn’t understand what Feng Xue meant by “problem”; seeing this, Feng Xue said no more, merely instructed Mo Ying not to actively observe the man, while maintaining his standing posture as if still in cultivation and too occupied to move, waiting silently for Liu Yunxi to come down.

Meanwhile, the demonic cultivator at the gate was shaken to his core—he had assumed this was merely a wealthy young master, but his household actually kept a great demon?

Though his aura seemed weak, this was clearly someone pretending to be a fool—after all, who among the transformed demons would feign only four or five years of cultivation? Such a low level couldn’t even guarantee full transformation, let alone whether their spiritual awareness had even awakened! And your Taiyin energy is so pure… damn, did you grow up soaking in your sect’s Moonlight Pool?

“Looks like the world’s truly at peace—now even the direct disciples get fools as guardian spirits! But this kid’s clever. Then again, without some skill, how could he treat a thousand-year-old demon as his maid?”

The demonic cultivator was no fool—he had noticed Feng Xue using a spirit ghost to probe him—but clearly, the boy had detected nothing; now summoning the demon, it was likely another layer of precaution.

Though he didn’t know where he’d slipped up, the demonic cultivator dared not leave immediately; the youth was merely suspicious—if he were certain, he wouldn’t have ordered the demon to prepare food, which would only expose him to danger. As long as he waited here, he was just a beggar; if he ran, he’d confirm he had something to hide.

Preparing to flee at any moment, the demonic cultivator kept uttering blessings like “May your longevity be endless” and “May your household prosper,” playing the beggar’s role perfectly; soon enough, the demon emerged carrying a bowl of thick porridge.

“Thank you, Young Master! Thank you, Young Master! May you enjoy long life and good health!”

Watching the beggar eagerly slurp down the porridge, Feng Xue’s doubts grew sharper—this man showed no flaw whatsoever, yet the fact that his Golden Fingers revealed no Yu Shou still gnawed at him.

After finishing the bowl of meat porridge with salt and greens, the beggar thanked him profusely and left; Feng Xue remained motionless until the man vanished completely from sight, then called out to Liu Yunxi, who was about to return to wash the bowl:

“Did you notice anything strange about that man just now?”

“Nope! He clearly looked starving,” Liu Yunxi shook her head, making Feng Xue momentarily wonder if his Golden Fingers had malfunctioned.

Shaking off the thought, Feng Xue resumed his morning practice, but silently noted this lifeform with no Yu Shou, wondering if he’d encounter others like him elsewhere.

…

“Interesting little brat—so cautious!” Though the demonic cultivator had moved far away, his former Grand Master’s spiritual sense was no joke; though he couldn’t hear Feng Xue’s exact words, he knew for certain the boy was inquiring about him.

“He didn’t move a single step the entire time—first, pretending to still be cultivating; second, keeping distance from me. His spirit ghost has been guarding his side the whole time—if I so much as twitch, he’ll flee with a teleportation technique. The demon added tonic herbs to my porridge—tonify the root, nourish the blood—eat this one bowl, and unless I do hard labor, I won’t feel hungry for a day or two. If I come begging again tomorrow or the day after, I’ll have confirmed I’m no ordinary man.”

The demonic cultivator raised his estimation of Feng Xue slightly, yet felt no surprise—in his ancient eyes, if this boy lacked such tactics, his sect elders would never have allowed him to descend the mountain with all those treasures.

After a moment’s thought, the demonic cultivator sought out a wealthy household he’d previously targeted, his form flickering as he slipped inside.

He didn’t kill anyone—just stole a few garments, changed into them, and began wandering the county town.

As the saying goes: clothes make the man, saddle makes the horse; dressed in fine attire and with subtle adjustments to his physical form, he instantly transformed from a dying beggar into a slightly indulgent, kidney-deficient old master.

Following his century-old experience, he traded gold coins for cash and strolled the streets, occasionally bantering with old and young men at roadside tea stalls, casually probing for information about the county’s famous courtesan-tea masters, then treating them to tea and snacks—relationships formed instantly.

Middle-aged men’s conversations always revolved around women, politics, and local gossip—and these three topics were precisely what the demonic cultivator needed.

His method of separating spirit and flesh made him appear spiritually depleted; without using cultivation techniques, he could only play the role of a debauched man—he needed to understand women, politics to fill the knowledge gap from his century-long slumber, and local gossip was urgently needed—for instance—

“You didn’t see it! Master Feng’s Five Thunder Art was earth-shattering, ghost-rending! The thunderlight was visible clearly even miles away! That blood-drenched zombie puppet that had evaded capture even by Master Yijing and Daoist Chen—Master Feng struck it once and left it critically wounded! He only spared the local experts face—he could’ve killed it himself, but let Daoist Zhang handle it!”

“What? The house I’m staying in belongs to that kid?” The demonic cultivator feigned interest as he listened, but inside, his mind churned violently.

Cause and effect—few cultivation practitioners truly understand it—but thousands of years of cultivation history have told every cultivator: it truly exists!

Now, the trigger for his awakening was the zombie puppet defeated by that young master; the place he awoke in was the courtyard where that young master fought the puppet; the first cultivation practitioner he formally encountered after entering the city was that same young master—such coincidences made it impossible not to suspect cause and effect.

“Could this brat… be my human calamity?”

Continuing from last time: the essence of metaphysics is classification. Feng shui is a good example.

For instance, everyone knows water governs wealth—this is essentially an empirical summary. In the past, when transportation was inconvenient, those who traveled frequently were either the wealthy or merchants, and transport relied on waterways; thus, regions with waterways and navigable rivers had better transportation, denser human traffic—in modern terms, higher foot traffic and more wealthy people. Doing business in such locations naturally led to better profits—that’s what “water governs wealth” means (though this is only part of it; many sub-theories exist, but they’re too complex to cover here).

Then what is “sha”? Feng shui masters often say a corner intersection has clashing sha energy, causing blood disasters and making business difficult. Is this sha metaphysics? No.

Simply put, it’s a corner intersection facing directly into the sun’s path, creating a visual blind spot—passersby exiting buildings collide with those turning the corner. That’s called “clashing sha.” In modern terms, it’s like a “ghost peek” effect.

Why do we place mirrors to resolve clashing sha? Not because the Eight Trigram Mirror is a magical artifact—no need to elaborate. Just think: why do so many modern garage exits have large mirrors?

Many of our traditions aren’t superstition—they’re summaries of experience. Do these feng shui masters (I mean the real ones, not frauds) not understand this? They know it perfectly well! But if they explained it clearly, would you still buy their mirrors? Could they still sell them at high prices? Would others still come to them to resolve sha?

To ensure themselves and their descendants could keep eating this meal, they must call it “sha.”

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(End of Chapter)