Buying Fate

Chu Xingchen gave a faint smile but didn’t respond to Xie Lingyu’s words. Instead, he asked,

"What’s the intel this time?"

Xie Lingyu pondered briefly before answering,

"According to Taidao Sect’s intelligence, a leader of the demonic cultivators emerged from this area. His cultivation progress has been alarmingly rapid—far exceeding the usual pace of demonic practitioners. Even with exceptional talent, it doesn’t seem like the progress of someone who stumbled onto this path without any foundation."

"Yuyang suspects that some of these demonic cultivators might have been specially selected. The demons may not be openly aiding them, but there’s definitely covert support behind the scenes."

"He also believes that since this place is so close to Fuyao Immortal City, if they’re truly testing something while avoiding detection, then monitoring information might be more critical than just finding a suitable location."

Chu Xingchen shifted his gaze. "What do you think of Yuyang’s theory, Lady Lingyu?"

Xie Lingyu glanced at him, noting the teasing glint in his eyes.

"It makes sense, especially with Taidao Sect’s intel backing it up. What, do you think I’m stupid?"

Chu Xingchen immediately straightened his expression.

"Not at all. I just figured Yuyang’s little brain wouldn’t piece things together so clearly. Only someone as sharp and insightful as you, Lady Lingyu, could analyze it so thoroughly."

Xie Lingyu knew Chu Xingchen was half-flattering, half-teasing, but she brushed it off and returned to the matter at hand.

"Let’s focus. We already have the target’s name and address. How do you plan to proceed? We should avoid alerting them, or it’ll complicate tracking the other leads."

"How? By knocking on doors and spreading goodwill, of course." Chu Xingchen sighed. "If I’d known we’d be handling this, I’d have brought Cui Hao along. That kid’s probably had enough of staying in Wanhua Ridge anyway."

Xie Lingyu didn’t object but nodded in agreement.

Over the past few years, even without deliberate interaction, she’d naturally come to recognize Cui Hao’s talents.

Zhou Ping might shrink back from Li Xingtian’s perpetually murderous glare, and Qinghe might dislike Lin Luoyu’s blunt way of handling things.

But Cui Hao? There wasn’t a soul inside or outside the sect who didn’t know him.

Even after being arrested by him multiple times and experiencing the wrath of the infamous Third Senior Sister, Cui Hao would act as if nothing happened—greeting Chen Baiqing with a smile the next day to ask for a cup of tea.

Cui Hao wasn’t some forgetful fool or a pushover. On the contrary, Qinghe often called him "Little Schemer No. 2."

He spent his days laughing and joking, yet somehow always managed to bridge the distance with others.

It was an innate gift. Whoever he chose to befriend, he could—even Bai Xuanling would clink cups with him without hesitation.

If infiltration was needed, Cui Hao would excel.

Li Xingtian might rely on his intimidating aura, but Cui Hao could blend in effortlessly through sheer likability—maybe even climb to a high position.

Talent like his was bound to shine, no matter where he went.

Chu Xingchen’s gaze settled on the small town ahead. Qulin, being near Fuyao Immortal City, had grown into a modest settlement rather than a mere village, thanks to merchant traffic.

He raised a hand, summoning Wanbian. A faint emerald spiritual energy enveloped him and Xie Lingyu.

Chen Baiqing’s illusion techniques had improved significantly, and with Wanbian’s enhancement, it saved them a lot of trouble.

"Don’t miss out! If you skip this, you’ll regret it for a lifetime! Not interested in street performances? Then how about free money?!"

Chu Xingchen had transformed into a middle-aged Daoist, holding a horsetail whisk in his right hand as he stood in the bustling market. With his left, he scattered a handful of silver fragments onto the ground.

The clinking of silver against stone echoed like a temple bell in the noisy street.

Where there had been no one moments before, a crowd now swarmed, scrambling to pick up the coins. Some even shouted,

"Immortal Master, throw some more!"

Xie Lingyu, now disguised as a young Daoist, stood to his right, holding a banner that read:

"A ten-thousand-year immortal fate is as elusive as mist, but the gold before you secures the next hundred."

Further to the side, a street performer—who had been lying on a bed of nails—stared wide-eyed, hesitating whether to push aside the stone slab on his chest and join the rush.

Damn it, thought they were competition, but they’re just handing out charity!

The noise grew louder as more people gathered.

Amid the clamor, Chu Xingchen spoke softly, yet his voice cut through the din effortlessly.

"Whether I scatter more silver depends on your manners. One more shout, and this Daoist takes his leave—along with the thousand taels of gold meant for the right people."

His words silenced the crowd instantly. Those tempted to speak were hushed by their neighbors.

Chu Xingchen pointed to the banner.

"To be frank, this old Daoist is no philanthropist. Think of me as a merchant. I seek immortality, but my own fate falls short—so I’ve come here to buy some of yours."

"Cultivation follows cause and effect. I trade silver for your fate—a fair exchange. The better your destiny, the higher the price. The most valuable? Ten thousand gold. The worthless? A few coins or a single tael."

"Value is heaven’s will. If it’s too cheap, don’t sell. If you seek a connection, don’t offer. But remember: the path of immortality is fraught with peril. Without backing or foundation, how far can you go? Bloodshed is routine. Yet the gold before you guarantees a century of security. Worth it or not? You decide."

"This old Daoist will be here for three days. After that, I’m gone. Those willing to sell their fate, line up here. One more rule: I won’t deal with those who break order."

As his words faded, Xie Lingyu swayed the banner, releasing a shimmer of golden energy that drew awed murmurs from the crowd.

To those in the know, it was just a basic Qi-refining trick.

With that done, Xie Lingyu watched as Chu Xingchen solemnly began his "fate-buying" act.

The whole premise was nonsense, of course. Reading fate was something even Tianyan Sect only managed vaguely—and only when luck was so overwhelming it couldn’t be hidden.

For ordinary folk to discern good from bad? Even Lv Xuan would be stumped.

Besides, fate alone wasn’t enough. Temperament and insight were just as crucial.

Chu Xingchen’s stall had one clear purpose: if searching openly drew attention, why not let the targets come to him?

If overt investigation raised alarms, disguising as a shady opportunist made for better cover.

Xie Lingyu found the situation somewhat peculiar, but seeing Chu Xingchen’s confident demeanor, she trusted him without question and stood by his side, holding up the small ceremonial banner like an attendant.

She noticed Chu Xingchen’s gaze seemingly fixed on the man selling his fate ahead, yet it didn’t seem like he was truly looking at him.

Chu Xingchen’s voice remained steady:

"Your celestial fortune is quite remarkable. Two taels of gold—will you sell it?"

"I will!" The man selling his fate was a slightly frail middle-aged man, his tone brimming with excitement.

With a flick of his wrist, Chu Xingchen produced two taels of gold and placed them on the table. A faint golden light, almost theatrical in its display, seeped into the gold before he declared loudly:

"This gold can only be spent by the one who sold their fate. Those who seize it by force shall suffer heaven’s retribution—ruin, loss of wealth, and death. Let any who doubt me try their luck."

At Chu Xingchen’s subtle nod, the middle-aged man cautiously took the two taels of gold. In a whisper barely audible, he murmured to himself:

"Mother… you’ll finally be saved."

With that, he hurried away.

Chu Xingchen watched the man depart, his expression serene.

It was never wrong for good deeds to meet some reward.

If heaven wouldn’t grant it, he would.