Li, the Great Philanthropist, Ink Cui Peng Appears, Stuttering Sister

The next day.

Li Mo woke at dawn to find Murong Manor bustling with activity, servants and attendants hurrying in and out.

As he reached the entrance, he saw Old Master Murong Hai personally directing the workers.

"Young friend Li, you're awake."

Murong Hai turned, his face showing no trace of yesterday's drunkenness:

"I've already arranged for grain from Hengtong Trading Company. We can set up the charity kitchen today."

"Thank you for your trouble."

Li Mo retrieved a prepared banknote from his sleeve.

"Since this is an act of charity in accordance with my family's teachings, I cannot be generous with others' resources. I hope you won't refuse."

"Being able to rely on the Murong family's reputation and manpower is already a great favor."

When it came to investing in goodwill, he preferred to handle it himself.

Silver was the last thing he lacked.

"Young friend, your kindness puts this old man to shame."

Murong Hai nodded and called over a passing steward:

"Go wake Xiao and have him come help."

"Also, send someone to spread the word throughout the prefecture—hm... let Xiao handle that."

"Yes."

......

That day.

Through the streets and alleys of Ziyang Prefecture City, a figure clanged a gong, drawing curious glances.

"Qingyuan Sect’s True Disciple Li Mo is distributing alms! Refugees and beggars, line up at Murong Manor for porridge and rice!"

Murong Xiao’s booming voice rang out, his face flushed with enthusiasm as he shouted.

Well...

To be fair, Li Mo hadn’t intended to make a name for himself.

But Murong Xiao was all too eager to let the world know that his friend Li was a kind-hearted soul.

The first half of the announcement was entirely his own addition.

In a nearby tavern, murmurs arose.

"A True Disciple of Qingyuan Sect?"

"That name sounds familiar—wasn’t he the one who obtained the Profound Armament?"

"Is he fulfilling some sect mission to aid the refugees?"

At the corner of the tavern’s entrance.

A gaunt, disheveled beggar slowly lifted his head, watching Murong Xiao’s retreating figure.

No one noticed the murderous glint beneath his wild, straw-like hair.

"Qingyuan Sect... True Disciple Li."

"Setting up a charity kitchen, specifically targeting refugees and beggars... Has my cover been blown?"

Cui Peng’s eyes flickered with cold light, waves of killing intent surging within him.

It made sense that Qingyuan Sect would issue a bounty for his capture.

But what puzzled him was this:

He had only disguised himself as a beggar after arriving in Ziyang Prefecture City—no one should have known.

Yet here was someone immediately offering free meals.

It reeked of a trap.

"Li Mo, newly promoted True Disciple of Qingyuan Sect, fresh to the sect."

"A mere Qi-Blood Realm cultivator, daring to take on a mission to capture me? Bold! Relying on the Murong family’s backing, treating me like prey already caught in a net."

"Or is Qingyuan Sect using me as a whetstone for their new disciple?"

"Tch... Let’s see who breaks the blade first."

Cui Peng’s murderous aura intensified.

The dagger hidden in his robes grew hot to the touch, and he instinctively gripped its hilt.

His martial arts revolved around the Blood Blade technique—each life taken sharpened its lethality.

At first, he had practiced in secret.

But when fellow disciples discovered him, he silenced them.

Now exposed, he had become a rat scurrying in the shadows.

"I have nowhere left to run."

"My only path is to join the Misty Rain Tower."

"If I can present this Qingyuan Sect True Disciple’s head as tribute, perhaps I can skip the Trial of Shadows..."

Indeed.

Cui Peng planned to join the Misty Rain Tower as an assassin.

His martial arts were tailor-made for killing.

A Qingyuan Sect True Disciple’s head and a Profound Armament sword would guarantee him a high rank upon entry.

Of course, this required careful planning.

Right now, he didn’t even know his target’s full capabilities.

"He likely only knows I’ve disguised myself as a beggar, not my exact location."

"I’m in the shadows; he’s in the light."

"Fool. Trying to lure me out, only to make himself the target..."

"Heh... Let’s see who walks into whose trap."

Cui Peng stood and approached a young beggar nearby.

He tapped the boy’s shoulder, making him turn.

"What do you want?"

The boy eyed him warily.

"You’re heading to Murong Manor for the porridge, right?"

"Yeah, but don’t ask me to bring any back for you."

The boy shook his head.

"I don’t want the porridge."

Suppressing his killing intent, Cui Peng forced a friendly expression and pulled out a string of copper coins.

The boy’s eyes locked onto the money, desire flashing in them.

"All you have to do is touch the Qingyuan Sect True Disciple’s robe when you get your food, and this string of coins is yours."

"If you come back to East City’s Mud Corner Alley and describe what he looks like, I’ll give you another string."

The coins were coated with a special scent—one only trained rats could detect.

"Deal!"

The boy snatched the money and scampered off happily.

......

Outside Murong Manor.

A long line of ragged, malnourished figures—refugees and the destitute—stretched before the bamboo charity tent.

"Wow, this porridge is thick!"

"Not just porridge—we get a bag of rice too! And... half a salted fish?!"

"Hah, I thought this Li guy was just putting on a show for reputation. Didn’t expect him to be this generous."

"Who cares if he’s after fame? We’re getting real food."

"Shh, he’s handing it out himself. Made sure all us beggars got in line too."

Amid the chatter, Li Mo worked like a spinning top—personally distributing food while scanning the crowd with his Heavenly Eye.

He was puzzled.

He hadn’t announced his identity, yet everyone seemed to know.

By tomorrow, he’d probably be known as Ziyang’s greatest philanthropist.

"Who told them I’m running this?"

Handing out another portion, Li Mo glanced back:

"Brother Murong, any ideas?"

"No... clue..."

Murong Xiao’s voice was hoarse, barely audible.

Sighing, Li Mo ladled more porridge.

At the same time, his Heavenly Eye activated:

[Name: Lu Ning]

[Age: 21]

[Root Bone: None.]

[Cultivation: Mortal.]

[Fate: Gray.]

[Evaluation: Ambition outweighs talent.]

[Recent Circumstances: From a wealthy family, secretly ventured into business, lost everything, and now lives as a beggar too ashamed to return home.]

Handing a bag of rice to the beggar hiding his face, Li Mo said softly,

"Go home. Bowing to family is better than bowing for a meal."

The man’s hands trembled as he accepted the rice, murmuring thanks.

"Have you seen a beggar with a chest wound, bright eyes, and a stutter?"

"Sorry, Great Benefactor Li, haven’t seen anyone like that."

"Alright, move along."

Young Li was starting to worry.

All morning, he’d checked countless beggars—still no sign of his target.

There were those pretending to be poor to receive charity rice, and scholars who had failed the imperial exams—truly a glimpse into the myriad facets of human life.

Yet, the person he sought remained nowhere to be found.

Could it be that the little beggar wasn’t mingling with the others?

Or was the information from that "ice block" flawed?

Just as these thoughts crossed his mind—

"Kind Sir Li, thank you."

He looked down.

A frail little beggar, no more than seven or eight years old, stood there timidly.

"Can you carry the rice?"

"Mhm."

As he handed over the sack, Li Mo noticed a small, grimy handprint left on his robe.

The little beggar, lips pressed together and eyes shut tight, seemed braced for a beating.

"It’s fine. I’ll wash it later."

Li Mo chuckled.

"You... you’re really kind..."

"Have you seen a beggar who stutters, with bright eyes and a wound on their chest?" Li Mo asked casually.

"Huh? You know Stutter Sister?"

The little beggar’s eyes widened.

"Stutter Sister?"

Li Mo’s brow arched.

Before he could probe further, the child suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth, as if realizing a grave mistake, and fled into the crowd in panic.

But under Li Mo’s Heavenly Eye of Destiny, every detail of the boy was laid bare:

[Name: Meng Can]

[Age: 7]

[Root Bone: None.]

[Cultivation Realm: Mortal.]

[Fate: Black.]

[Evaluation: Life like wild grass, fate thinner than paper. Though meeting a noble, destined for no noble end.]

[Recent Circumstance: Stutter Sister fell ill. He ventured out alone to beg, crossed paths with the bandit Cui Peng, and unknowingly left a mark for Li Mo—a true disciple of the Qingyuan Sect. Now marked for death.]