The small courtyard was filled with a jumble of peculiar scents.
There was the faint incense smell, like that of the Earth Temple, a warm stone-like aura, an odd earthy tang, and even a cold, metallic whiff akin to the Three Talents Demon-Suppressing Coin…
It felt like a cluttered shop of oddities.
These scents were subtle, clearly not from high-quality mystic items.
But they confirmed one thing: the owner was no amateur!
Li Yan's anger turned to excitement. Seeing the gate open, he stepped inside.
The courtyard was small but tidy. To the left stood a jujube tree, to the right a stone fish tank where a few red fish swam happily.
In the northwest corner hung an eight-trigram mirror, and at the center sat a stone pillar.
The whole yard exuded a clean, tranquil vibe.
With one glance, Li Yan understood.
Jujube for wood, fish tank for water, bronze mirror for metal, stone pillar for earth to anchor the house—a clear five-element feng shui layout, missing only fire.
He turned, a smile tugging at his lips.
The kitchen area, where the Stove God was enshrined, was the fire.
The main house's door was open, revealing an altar table with a deity statue and various offerings.
The statue depicted a three-eyed Taoist clutching a sword, his robe adorned with sun, moon, stars, and the four mythical beasts—dragon, tiger, phoenix, and tortoise—gaudy yet striking.
The plaque read: Seat of the Mysterious Qi Manifesting Lord Chen.
Li Yan didn't recognize it, but he could smell the incense aura clinging to it, similar to the Earth Temple's but fainter, with a touch more solemnity.
Inside, a middle-aged Taoist sat upright at a desk.
This was surely Wang Daoxuan. His attire was curious: a black shirt and white short jacket, an eight-trigram embroidered on the back, a square scarf crown on his head, and black cloth shoes with cloud patterns.
The outfit wasn't cheap, though faded from washing, still neat.
His appearance drew attention: lean and alert, with a long black beard, clear features, and gentle eyes. Not quite immortal-like, but likable at first glance.
The Taoist held a wolf-hair brush, scribbling on a piece of paper.
Across from him sat a young man, likely a scholar, his face etched with bitterness and worry.
Li Yan recognized it at once: a fortune-telling session.
This trade, in the martial world, fell under the Gold Gate.
The Gold Gate led the eight gates, encompassing nine arts: fortune-telling, face-reading, word analysis, spirit writing, scrying, underworld walking, astrology, ritual mastery, and shamanism. Hence the saying, "Nine golds, eighteen skins, seventy-two lone heads."
It was the foremost gate because Gold Gate practitioners were adept at reading people and silver-tongued, with many tricks. Mastering Gold Gate skills opened doors to the other eight.
For instance, Gold Gate tactics could be used in the Skin Gate's medicine trade, as they say, "Gold turns to skin in a single morning."
Moreover, the trade was a mixed bag—full of charlatans but also the occasional true mystic. Thus, martial world folks treated them with some courtesy.
Even Lan Family bandits had eight no-rob rules, one being the Gold Gate.
Seeing Wang Daoxuan busy, Li Yan stood silently at the door.
Wang had noticed him but paid no mind, setting down his brush. He studied the inked paper for a moment before speaking to the anxious young man, stroking his beard:
"You gave me the character 'gold.' Gold is the world's treasure, man's burden, refined through time."
"From your birth chart, you were carefree in youth, but recent years brought hardship, your family fallen…"
"And lately, your wealth's been poor, plagued by petty schemers…"
"Exactly, exactly! You're spot on, Master!"
The young man nodded eagerly, full of admiration.
Li Yan, watching, smirked inwardly.
Having seen mystic things firsthand, he was intrigued by the occult but skeptical of fate-reading. Even if fate existed, he doubted mortals could peer into the future.
Besides, he smelled no special aura.
His father had explained this trick: the "hitching post." First, hook the client, then reel them in.
The young man was frail, hands uncalloused, but his clothes were worn—a clear sign of a pampered scholar whose family had fallen.
Who, if life was smooth, would bother with fortune-tellers?
He'd chosen the character "gold." No need to dissect it to know he was broke.
As for schemers—who didn't have a few behind them?
Li Yan saw through it but held his tongue.
First, martial world etiquette: exposing someone's game was smashing their rice bowl, unless it was egregious.
Second, the trick was hardly unique.
In his past life, fake slogans, emotional manipulation, and luring with profit to scam capital—weren't those all hitching posts?
The martial world hadn't changed; human nature was the same, just dressed differently.
As expected, the harvest came next.
Sure enough, without Wang Daoxuan prompting, the young man sighed bitterly: "To be honest, I'm from Xingping County. My family ran a silk shop, but a swindler cleaned us out."
"My father died of rage, my mother cried herself blind, and I've got no prospects from studying. Truly, a scholar's useless."
"My wife and kids suffer with me, mocked by old classmates. I can't go on—what should I do…"
Li Yan listened, almost rolling his eyes.
In hardship, people often ramble, seeking someone to vent to.
But this young man laid his whole life bare. Even a novice could play him like a fiddle.
A lamb walking into a tiger's jaws.
Wang Daoxuan, unfazed, listened calmly, stroking his beard.
When the young man finished, he studied the paper again, then spoke thoughtfully: "There's a way out."
The young man's eyes lit up. "Please, guide me!"
Wang pointed to the paper. "Look at your 'gold' character. The 'man' atop is upright and strong, showing the solution lies in 'man'!"
"A noble person?"
The young man pondered. "You mean someone will help me?"
Wang nodded slightly. "Indeed, a noble person—but not another. It's you."
"Me? Impossible!"
The young man was stunned.
Wang stroked his beard. "You face a trial in this life, but as they say, no gold is perfect, no man flawless. True gold needs fire to refine. Endure this ordeal, and fortune will turn. You may not gain riches, but you'll live steadily."
"And the 'man' atop also points to schemers blocking your luck. Avoid them, and misfortune will fade."
Hope flickered in the young man's eyes, but he hesitated, asking cautiously: "Master, a yin-yang master came to our house, saying my mother should worship a dark immortal to change our fate…"
"Nonsense!"
Wang's eyebrows shot up. "Even Confucius said, befriend the virtuous, avoid the petty, respect ghosts and gods but keep them at a distance. Inviting spirits is easy; sending them away is hard. Welcoming those types is no different from inviting schemers into your home."
"If your true gold fears the fire, how's it different from rubble?"
"Cutting your own fate—that's the real hopelessness!"
The young man flushed with shame. "You're right, Master. I was wrong."
He fumbled in his pocket, looking troubled. "About the fee…"
Wang raised three fingers, calm. "Your luck's blocked, so I won't take much. Three coppers. If you endure the fire and prosper, come back to make it up."
The young man's face filled with gratitude, bowing deeply. "Thank you, Master!"
He handed over three coppers and left, his eyes now resolute.
Li Yan watched, a bit stunned, respect rising in his heart.
Ghosts and gods can't change fate—only the heart can.
He saw it now: the young man's fate might have already shifted.
This was true guidance through the maze!
With that, he strode in, cupped his fists, and grinned. "Master Wang, you set the hitching post, rang the chained bells, but let the lamb go. Smashing your own pot, eh?"
His slang signaled his identity and referenced the scene.
Wang laughed heartily, standing and shaking his head. "My words can sway life and death, or build hidden virtue. I don't dare act rashly."
"Besides, that skinny lamb's got no fat to take."
Li Yan nodded slightly. "You're a kind man, Master."
But Wang seemed to ignore the compliment, glancing at the blade at Li Yan's waist, then out the window, sighing. "Last night, I dreamed of an evil ghost clinging to me. Today, a magpie held a flower in its beak, signaling a visitor. But whether it's fortune or doom, I can't tell."
"A swordsman at my door—who wants my life?"
"No misunderstanding, Master."
Li Yan quickly cupped his fists. "I've come with questions. If you can solve my trouble, I'll pay handsomely!"
With his divine power out of control, the Lu family matter was secondary.
Wang quietly exhaled, stroking his beard with a smile. "Are you here for a reading or feng shui?"
Li Yan's voice was low. "Tell me, what's a Cold Altar Ghost Soldier?"
Wang nearly yanked his beard off, his face shifting. "Who are you, exactly?!"
*(End of Chapter)*