Chapter 541: Inquiry

Pan Yun's smile faltered slightly; she tapped the wooden table and called out loudly, "Neighbor, you said Yang Ji was killed—do you mean Yang Ji, the eldest son of Prime Minister Yang?"

The neighboring room fell silent.

Pan Yun's gaze swept over the table: osmanthus cake, red date cake, sunflower seeds, and peanuts—all things they liked to eat. She lifted the inner lining of her robe to wipe her hands, about to brush her mouth with the back of her hand when Seeing Miao Zhen silently handed her a cloth.

Pan Yun stiffened, reached out to take it, and wiped her mouth: "Didn't you run out of handkerchiefs?"

Seeing Miao Zhen: "I've grown taller; my old clothes won't fit anymore, so I cut them up to make handkerchiefs—they're still fine for wiping my hands."

Pan Yun stopped moving, silent, and stared at her.

Seeing Miao Zhen assured: "It's been washed clean."

Seeing Miao He can vouch for it.

Pan Yun tucked the cloth away, pulled a dust whisk from her space, flicked it onto her arm, and rose to head to the neighboring room.

Seeing Miao Zhen and Seeing Miao He exchanged a glance and immediately followed.

"Hey!" Tao Yan Bai watched them leave, wanting to follow but hesitating, glancing instead at Hong Yan and Xiao Hong.

They had no interest in this; they were focused on eating roasted sunflower seeds.

As soon as Pan Yun stepped to the door, it swung open—inside, the master and his two servants hurried out, nearly colliding with her.

Pan Yun frowned, studying the young man in the center: he was in his early twenties, old enough, yet his face revealed every emotion plainly.

Pan Yun pinched her fingers, bowed slightly: "Fusheng Wuliang Tianzun. Why are you running, good sir?"

She stepped forward slowly; the young man, startled, stepped back slowly, soon retreating into the private room.

Pan Yun's gaze swept their table: she snorted inwardly—this meal, and they still claimed to have no money? A single talisman costs only twenty taels—how could they not afford it?

Clearly, their hearts aren't sincere.

Pan Yun withdrew her gaze, sized up the young man from head to toe, and smiled faintly: "Good sir, you're from Ji'an, Jiangxi, and your surname is Li?"

The young man's eyes widened: "How do you know?"

You must have been forced to flatter Yang Ji because you lived in the same place; I didn't want to see that huge "Li" on the inside of your sleeve—but I saw it anyway.

Pan Yun smiled: "I am a disciple of the Long Hushan Academy. Your origins are written all over your face."

The two servants leaned forward, scrutinizing their master's face—still just as pale and clean, clearly a wealthy young master—but how could anyone tell his origin or surname from this?

The old servant grew wary, suspecting Pan Yun and her companions had researched them in advance to swindle money.

But when Pan Yun pinched her fingers and said, "I've divined your household has recently faced misfortune. I overheard your words just now. Tell me what I wish to know, and I'll give you a talisman for safety—free of charge."

The old servant's eyes lit up instantly, interrupting his master: "Free?"

Pan Yun nodded: "Free."

The old servant tugged at his master's sleeve.

Young Master Li paused, then said: "Master Daoist, you wish to ask about Yang Ji?"

Pan Yun nodded: "Yes."

Young Master Li: "You're a Daoist Priest—you can divine my origin and name, yet you can't divine Yang Ji's?"

Pan Yun smiled: "Can you provide Yang's birth year, month, day, and hour?"

That, of course, he couldn't—whose birth details would just give away?

Young Master Li understood: without the person present and no birth details, divination was impossible.

Young Master Li cautiously studied Pan Yun: "Why do you ask about Yang Ji?" Pan Yun, tired of his hesitation, said bluntly: "I had a small grudge against him. I heard he died next door, so I came to inquire—just to cheer myself up."

Young Master Li immediately grew enthusiastic: "That's right—Yang Ji was executed by strangulation, died horribly. Master Daoist, your grudge is settled."

Pan Yun: "What about Prime Minister Yang?"

"Prime Minister Yang died of illness," Young Master Li said dismissively. "He died on the second day of the month; Yang Ji was executed on the fifth. Everyone says he was angered to death by Yang Ji."

Pan Yun looked dazed: "The second day? That was the day after I left the capital…"

Though she'd expected it, she still couldn't help feeling stunned.

"Indeed," Young Master Li shook his head. "His lifelong reputation ruined—all just retribution."

Pan Yun snapped back to attention, raised an eyebrow: "How so?"

"If he hadn't enabled him, how could Yang Ji have terrorized Ji'an for so many years?" Young Master Li complained. "We had land and shops—we were doing fine. But Yang Ji was tyrannical: if we didn't send him festival and birthday gifts every year, he held a grudge. Our small business couldn't survive."

"Today's outcome is just karma—and it dragged us down too," Young Master Li sighed heavily. "Bad luck. Terrible bad luck."

Seeing Pan Yun's face showed no joy, the old servant quickly changed the subject: "Master Daoist, you said you'd give us a talisman…"

No mistake! One word, one stroke, one detail—everything visible!

Pan Yun snapped back, pulled out a talisman, and handed it to them: "Yes, here's your safety talisman."

Seeing the simple, palm-sized paper, the master and servants frowned: "Is this really the talisman?"

Pan Yun blinked: "Then what kind of talisman did you expect?"

The old servant pulled out one: "Look—this one costs forty taels. Is yours just some hastily drawn thing to fool us? Even a temple sells talismans for a hundred copper coins!"

The talisman he pulled out was twice the size of a palm—long and wide, its edges dusted with gold powder, shimmering brilliantly…

Pan Yun studied the talisman's script: yes, it contained primordial energy, locking celestial qi within—it was a second-grade safety talisman, equal to hers.

Pan Yun glanced at her own humble-looking talisman, then said seriously: "Though my paper is inferior, my script is no worse—the effect is identical."

The master and servants fell silent; finally, the old servant reluctantly accepted it.

Whatever—it's free. What more could they ask for?

Pan Yun returned to her own private room. Tao Yan Bai looked up: "Little Master, weren't you going to sell talismans while you were over there? Why did you come back?"

Pan Yun: "They didn't believe in it. Forget it—I'll find another opportunity."

Pan Yun rubbed her chin: "I didn't expect that just one Spring Festival away from Long Hushan, new talismans had appeared—and spread so widely. To do business, you must keep up with the times."

The waiter brought the dishes in.

Pan Yun immediately picked up her chopsticks: "Let's eat. Afterward, we'll visit the Immortal Tower and see what new treasures they've got."

The few people and yao acknowledged.

Last year, several batches of exceptionally high-quality talismans had appeared at the Long Hushan market, drawing away some of their customers.

Although those customers were so few as to be negligible to the Immortal's Tower, they still felt a sense of crisis and immediately improved their talisman paper.

They also sorted all the talismans they had collected and repriced them.

For talismans drawn by someone like Pan Yun, the purchase price was lowered by around one to five taels, depending on actual quality;

while talismans of the same quality as hers from the Immortal's Tower itself, owing to the change in talisman paper, had generally risen by one to twenty taels. (End of chapter)