Chapter 42: Guidance and Meeting

Feeling the weight in his hand, Fang Can judged it to be about half a kilogram, though silver scraps made up only a small portion.

From the corner peeking out of the money pouch, he could see silver notes tucked inside.

After all, a hundred taels weighed several jin—carrying that much openly through the streets was still too absurd.

“Mr. Fang, no need to count,” Ye Yonglie said earnestly. “One hundred taels is your fee for making the trip; the remaining four hundred are our token of respect—more than what the last inspector received, and this amount will be monthly from now on.”

Hearing this, Fang Can’s eyes narrowed, his smile growing even brighter.

He hadn’t expected extra pay—five hundred taels total—this was an unexpected windfall.

As he felt the weight of the money, Fang Can was about to take his leave when the director’s voice reached his ear: “Young Fang, shall we follow the usual routine?”

‘Usual routine? What usual routine?’

Fang Can swallowed his farewell, wondering silently: Could there be some unspoken rule he didn’t know?

With a hint of unease, he smiled and nodded. “Of course. We’ll follow the Tiger Demon Sect’s tradition.”

“Good. Now, please, our newly graduated senior disciple from the Tiger Demon Sect will instruct our students.” The director turned to the guard. “Go summon all the disciples—have them rise and prepare for instruction.”

At Ye Yonglie’s order, bells and drums soon clanged. Before long, one by one, the Yangyang Martial Arts Hall’s disciples, urged on, rose, donned their uniform training robes, and lined up before Fang Can.

“Young Fang, these are our less talented disciples—none higher than Xuanguan Second Stage.”

Ye Yonglie gestured to the dozen or so young disciples before him and smiled. “I know your time is short—just an hour’s guidance will suffice.”

‘Damn.’ Fang Can felt the heavy pouch in his hand. So this protection money wasn’t so easy to collect after all—he’d have to act as a private tutor.

He now understood the Tiger Demon Sect’s intent: to flex their muscle before every faction in the territory. After all, even one of our disciples can instruct you—what of our managers, hall masters, and sect lord?

Yet five hundred taels for just an hour of tutoring? That was a massive profit. Fang Can couldn’t refuse—but now he had to figure out how to teach.

After all, his own realm was only Xuanguan First Stage. Though he could kill any Transformation Body expert without a Mind Phase one-on-one, he was still only Xuanguan First Stage.

If he revealed his true level in combat, these people would immediately suspect his origins—and then they’d have to be wiped out, blood by blood, to silence them. Not worth it.

Thinking this, Fang Can smiled faintly. “Since Director Ye says so, I’ll do my best to guide your disciples.”

“Due to my sect’s prohibition against teaching outsiders our arts, I cannot instruct you in technique. So instead, I’ll merely hone your willpower.”

As he spoke, an inexplicable aura of dominance erupted from Fang Can, crushing down upon every heart.

“This… is a Mind Phase!” The mental pressure left them all frozen in shock.

Gazing at Fang Can’s youthful face, they realized: such a young man, already above Xuanguan Sixth Stage—stronger than the director himself. It was terrifying.

Facing their intense stares, the young Fang Can flushed slightly, smiling shyly. “My martial skills are humble—I hope you won’t find this beneath you.”

“Beneath us? Five hundred taels? Worth every copper!” Ye Yonglie exclaimed, gazing at Fang Can with awe, voicing the thoughts of every disciple.

This was a rare chance—a Mind Phase user releasing their power not for battle, but to let them feel its details. In an age of secretive arts, this was worth a thousand gold.

Fang Can had simply misjudged his own value—or perhaps, because his first encounter was with the Tiger Demon Sect, his perspective had become too lofty.

Merely possessing a Mind Phase meant he could affiliate with any martial hall, offering Mind Phase training to harden disciples’ wills—and earn a hundred gold a month without effort. Plenty would pay for such insight.

‘Is this what a Mind Phase feels like?’ Ye Yonglie closed his eyes, greedily absorbing Fang Can’s Mind Phase along with every disciple.

Even as director, after twenty years of grueling cultivation to stabilize his realm at Sixth Stage, he still had not awakened a Mind Phase.

Feeling the aura that made their hearts pound wildly, the disciples gasped for breath, as if trying to swallow and digest the Mind Phase itself.

Technique instruction was common—but encountering a Mind Phase? A lifetime might pass without such a chance.

Between having it and not having it lay a vast barrier; most cultivators with mediocre talent never crossed it.

Now, here stood a Mind Phase master, letting them experience it freely—this would greatly aid them when they eventually reached the threshold to awaken their own.

‘Do these guys really need to go this far?’ Fang Can leaned back in his armchair, propping his cheek on his hand, silently grumbling.

Watching the disciples before him, faces rapt with ecstasy, Fang Can thought they looked like masochists hooked on green tea—and all men, yet wearing philosophical expressions. It was too abstract.

As he observed patiently, Fang Can noticed a boy whose expression remained calm within the range of his Mind Phase.

While others were overwhelmed, this one was unnaturally composed—his stillness drew Fang Can’s attention.

‘Hmph. Another trick—trying to fool this bunch of country bumpkins with a Mind Phase.’ Yuan Dang sneered inwardly.

As a reincarnator who’d read the legends written about Fang Can, he knew this Fang Tian Di was only Xuanguan First Stage—using a Mind Phase to fake power.

But even knowing this, he dared not expose it.

Because the fact that someone at Xuanguan First Stage possessed a Mind Phase was even more outrageous—unprecedented in history. Speaking it wouldn’t harm Fang Can—it would only expose himself.

“What are you thinking?” A curious voice suddenly sounded beside Yuan Dang.

He opened his eyes slightly to see a boy with sword-like brows and starlit eyes, casually perched on a chair, arms crossed, gazing at him with curiosity.

It was none other than Fang Can.

‘Fang…’ Yuan Dang recoiled a step, barely stopping himself from shouting “Fang Tian Di.”

The psychological trauma Fang Can had inflicted on him in his past life was too deep. Now, face to face with the man himself, even if he loathed and raged against him, his knees instinctively bent—and he knelt before Fang Can.

‘How could this happen? This didn’t occur in my past life—did I alter history?’

Yuan Dang’s mind churned with fear. He forgot to rise, terrified Fang Can would sense his ill intent, and hastily bowed his head. “I… I…”

“Yuan Dang, cease your insolence! Don’t disrupt Master Fang’s instruction!” Ye Yonglie’s sharp rebuke rang in Yuan Dang’s ear.

(End of Chapter)