With Worldly Insight at his disposal, casting a Fate Divination Technique only consumed a trifle, perhaps one or two Azure Wing Life Essences at most.
But in return, he could earn a single Blue-Blood Fate Fire, a terrifying profit margin of dozens of times over!
And the client before him… was clearly a major one.
The violet flame seemed to sigh before speaking:
"Fellow Daoist, if you are prepared, then please begin.
I am newly advanced to the Dragon-Elephant stage, preparing to condense my ancestral Cloud-Mother Goddess Dharmic Manifestation.
But my Life Measure is thin. The innate life-patterns I awakened were of low rank. To this day, I have only fused three: one Azure Wing, one Blue Blood, and one Violet Eye. My dharmic Manifestation has yet to take form.
I once sought out other fortune-tellers to measure my Life Measure. They said outright that my innate allotment was no more than four taels and five qian. Of what remains, at most I possess one tael and two qian, and at the least only a single tael.
I have long wished to refine a fourth life-pattern, in hopes of forging my Manifestation. Yet I cannot decide whether I should risk refining another Violet Eye pattern.
This matter concerns the very path of my cultivation. I have hesitated for a long time, still unable to decide.
If my Life Measure is truly less than one tael and two qian, then to rashly attempt forging a Violet Eye pattern will end in certain failure.
The wasted resources, the inevitable backlash, those are losses I cannot bear.
It was my younger brother, knowing of my worries, who sought you out and begged that you measure my fate once more. Please, Master, I implore your guidance!"
Jing Qian nodded. The other party's clarity in describing her situation revealed deep heritage and abundant knowledge.
Her Life Measure truly sat at a critical threshold. One misstep in choice, and her path would suffer disastrous consequences.
"Very well," Jing Qian said. "Release your spiritual defenses. Do not resist my art."
With that, he roused Worldly Insight and, for the first time, cast the Fate Divination Technique for another.
A wisp of his own mana pierced the violet flame's body, linking directly to the trace of her soul.
When she lowered her guard, her cultivation data unfolded before him in perfect clarity, stripped bare to the last secret:
[Fan Zhuoyi]
Lifespan: 138 years
Life Measure: 5 taels 3 qian / 6 taels 5 qian
Life-Essences: 7 (Azure Wing)
Spiritual Construct: Locking-Needle
Life-Patterns: Embroidered Rivers and Mountains (Violet), Weaving Brocade (Blue), Silken Hair (Azure)
Jing Qian drank in every detail greedily. Her cultivation stage was nearly identical to his own, an excellent point of comparison.
He mirrored her techniques against his own, watching how her mana circulated.
But one thing was clear: Fan Zhuoyi had a deep misunderstanding of her own path, leading to misjudgments.
She was lucky to have run into him. Any other fortune-teller, lacking the power of Worldly Insight, would have only led her further astray.
This single Blue-Blood Fate Fire she offered, far from a loss, was a bargain.
Jing Qian then turned his focus to her Spiritual Construct, the Locking-Needle, prying deeper:
[Spiritual Construct: Locking-Needle]
Category: Sacrificial Talisman / Roots of the Self
Rank: 8th Grade
Lifespan Cost: Ten Years
A remarkably unique construct. Left unmanaged, it was a sinister trap, one that shackled and suppressed two taels of Life Measure.
But if harnessed properly, it could be transformed into a Roots of the Self type, completing a special kind of Spiritual Construct Forging, and turning the lock into a foundation!
This Spiritual Construct had placed Fan Zhuoyi's cultivation into a rather peculiar state.
Even Jing Qian was left astonished after examining it, widening his horizons and reaping unexpected insight.
Maintaining the professional demeanor of a true fortune-teller, he laid everything out honestly:
"Daoist Fan, you carry six taels and five qian of Life Measure. Your talent is by no means low. Even after accommodating three life-patterns, you still have more than three taels and two qian of fate remaining. You are far from exhausting your potential.
However, a Locking-Needle Spiritual Construct has sealed away two taels of your fate.
If you do not resolve this, your cultivation will remain severely hindered.
Do you have any means of addressing it?"
Fan Zhuoyi froze on the spot.
Countless memories surged through her mind in that instant, and many doubts that had long troubled her suddenly found their answers.
She remained silent for a long while before suddenly bowing deeply to the ground:
"Thank you, Master, for lifting the veil of confusion from my heart.
I have never heard of this Locking-Needle Spiritual Construct, nor do I know how to undo it. I beg you to teach me the method!
I am a daughter of the Fan Clan of Brocade Hall in Yingdu. Whatever you may require, Master, say the word. I will do everything within my power to provide it."
With that, Fan Zhuoyi offered up five Blue-Blood Fate Fires, displaying her sincerity.
Jing Qian raised his hand, drawing the flames into his body. His white avatar instantly half-shifted into azure blue.
His fee had quintupled. A massive windfall!
He thought for a moment, then continued:
"To resolve this Locking-Needle tribulation is no simple matter. It cannot be done here within the Furnace Hall. It must be performed face-to-face, by my own hand.
And if I am to act, the price will not be small."
Fan Zhuoyi bowed again, her voice resolute:
"Please, Master, instruct me!
No matter which province you reside in, I can come to you. If you are willing to come to Yingdu, my Brocade Hall will receive you with every honor."
Then she sent a message along with her words:
"These are three seventh-grade Brocade Hall Treasure-Garments. I have the right to allocate them. Please, Master, select whichever you prefer."
Brocade Hall was a century-old weaving clan in Yingdu. With over a hundred refinement artisans and even two Thousand-Refinement grandmasters, their garments were prized not just for protection but for breathtaking beauty, hugely popular among female cultivators of the Divine Dynasty.
A single seventh-grade Brocade Garment often sold at the price of a sixth-grade magical artifact, pure luxury, the very definition of fleecing the wealthy.
The Fan Clan stood among the Divine Dynasty's top-tier merchant families. Though Fan Zhuoyi's branch had fallen on hard times, the resources she could casually mobilize still left this "country bumpkin" from Hunzhou stunned.
Yet Jing Qian declined the offer of garments, saying instead:
"These artifact-garments are fine, but too soft and ornate, hardly to my taste.
Here's my condition: since you hail from a weaving family, you must have ready access to spider-silk materials. Prepare for me one hundred bundles of eighth-grade Azure Wing Spider-Silk, of any variety. That shall be the first condition of our deal."
Fan Zhuoyi nodded immediately.
"A trivial matter!"
Jing Qian continued:
"Second, gather intelligence for me regarding Zhuoling Cave-Heaven and the Academy Feast."
Fan Zhuoyi thought for a moment, then agreed once more.
"Third, I have a junior who will soon travel to Yingdu to attend the Academy Feast. You must host and look after him.
This junior will act in my stead to resolve the issue of your Locking-Needle. That is the third condition.
If you can fulfill these three, I guarantee not only to remove the threat of the Locking-Needle but to turn it into a Spiritual Construct Forging, transforming your very foundation of cultivation.
What do you say?"
Fan Zhuoyi's heart trembled. It felt as though her collapsing path had suddenly found a way forward.
She bowed deeply again:
"Please allow me some time. I swear to fulfill all three conditions without the slightest compromise.
May your junior arrive soon. The Fan Clan of Brocade Hall will receive him with every courtesy."
Thus, the two struck a bargain, each securing what they most needed.
For Jing Qian, the deal solved urgent problems he could not have refused.
Having studied the Dao Book, he already knew at least three methods to resolve the Locking-Needle curse, none especially difficult.
From start to finish, it was pure profit, an astronomical return.
His first venture into the Furnace Hall had yielded a great harvest.
After giving Xili some instructions, he withdrew from the Furnace Hall.
He had little capital and no star product yet. For now, there was no need to sink too much into this marketplace.
But he ordered Xili to keep an eye out for more clients like Fan Zhuoyi, cultivators not yet too high in rank, but knowledgeable and with potential. Reading their fates could bring a steady stream of profit.
Back at the Buddha-Tower yamen, Jing Qian once again sat before the three Life Furnaces, silently contemplating his next step.
His cultivation advanced steadily. With every passing day, his foundation thickened, his strength grew.
Yet after witnessing the likes of Ling Mingji, Chi Ling, Wujian, and Xiang Yu, all true heirs of great dharma lineages, he could no longer stay content in Hunzhou.
Hunzhou held many resources to exploit, true. But its ceiling was far too low.
Across the entire prefecture, not a single Spiritual Construct Disciple could be found. Even Spiritual Constructs themselves were few and far between.
For Jing Qian, newly advanced to eighth rank though he was, there remained little true challenge here.
His nature compelled him to seek higher trials, to meet true prodigies.
Beyond that, though he carried the unique Sumeru Dao Stele, progressing swiftly on rare fortune wandering alone beneath the Divine Dynasty without a strong backing was never entirely safe.
Especially now, having inherited the Dao Book of the Nether Cycle of Yanfu, darker karmic entanglements were already stirring.
He needed a larger stage upon which to hide himself.
Among the twelve great dharma lineages ranked upon the Academy's roll, each one had at least a fourth-rank Star-Seizer cultivator to anchor their sect's destiny.
Jing Qian thought back to that single earth-shattering sword strike, which had obliterated She Dizang Island, a sword art so boundless in power that he longed for a chance to witness such mastery up close.
He drew from his Void Realm a piece of eighth-rank Azure-Gold ore.
Then, from within the Void Furnace, he summoned forth two Whitefang Fate Fires and began refining the metal treasure.
The Azure-Gold slowly melted into liquid under the flames, before, under his spiritual force, condensing into a finely crafted rectangular gold plaque.
Upon its surface, he carefully engraved several lines of script:
"Among Hunzhou's worthies stands Jing Qian bone of bamboo, jade of brilliance."
"Now, with the Academy Festival approaching, banners unfurl and music swells."
"I respectfully recommend this talent to honor the grandeur of the Divine Dynasty."
Afterward, he produced his bronze official seal, activating its authority as Scholar-Monitor, and pressed the imprint upon the plaque.
At once, the entire Hunzhou Yamen gave a subtle tremor.
The shadow of the Merit Abacus silently appeared before him.
Its countless beads clattered in swift calculation until the result emerged: Hunzhou still retained seventy-nine Great Merits in accumulated "world-merit."
Jing Qian, leveraging his office as Scholar-Monitor, directly borrowed twenty-one Great Merits to round the total to one hundred and from it forged a single Academy Writ.
This writ was of prescribed form and costly refinement.
Its sole purpose: to recommend one gifted youth, representing Hunzhou, to compete in the selection at the Academy Festival.
Every military prefecture possessed such rights, nominating candidates according to the world-merits tallied by the Merit Office.
Though Hunzhou lay remote and weak, it remained one of the twenty-four military prefectures of the Divine Dynasty.
Its accumulated merit was meager, but Jing Qian, bearing the office of Scholar-Monitor and the soul-legacy of the late Prefect Luo Yaozhi, showed uncommon foresight.
He was willing to risk debt and deficit, all to advance education.
This, too, was one of the reasons why, even under risk, he would not resign his post.
Without Hunzhou's Academy Writ, gaining even a single chance to enter the Academy Festival was nigh impossible.
Jing Qian cradled the Writ reverently, studying it once more before carefully tucking it away.
Then, he summoned his ghostly avatar once again.
Gently, he removed the mask-artifact that had always covered his face and handed it to the avatar.
Activating the divine might of his Flesh-Bud Life Pattern, Jing Qian's physical body began to twist and reshape.
This was his first time using the life-seal's power to restructure his own body.
The Flesh-Bud Life Pattern, forged to strengthen flesh and blood, could consume spiritual power to purge afflictions, heal hidden wounds, and optimize the organs of the body, keeping it in peak health and vitality.
And the very first full-body optimization proved astonishing.
In but a moment, Jing Qian felt his body's resilience double, and even his lifespan increased by five years.
After the adjustment, his height shrank back down to just over four feet, and his entire appearance shifted.
He conjured a mirror from spiritual force, gazing at his new self with satisfaction.
His eyes shone bright, his figure slender yet taut with power.
His bearing exuded an ineffable aura, a blend of calm, conviction, and purpose appearing both relaxed and solemn at once.
Here in Hunzhou, he knew so few people that no one could imagine this young man was the same newly-appointed Scholar-Monitor still confined within the tower.
The identity of "Jing Qian" had already fulfilled its historical purpose.
From this moment, the ghostly avatar would remain in the tower, continuing to play the role of Scholar-Monitor.
If exposed, the cost was little more than offending the Prefect. He intended to drag the role out as long as possible.
Meanwhile, the true Jing Qian left behind his one and only Sumeru Beacon within the avatar.
With but a thought, he could return at any time.
Thus, his true body was finally unbound, free to act across Hunzhou as he pleased.
With a flash, he slipped into the dimensional void and, from there, forced his way out of the tower's restrictions.
The prohibitions left by Xiang Yu revealed flaws under the gaze of the Sumeru Life Pattern, and Jing Qian slipped right through.
In the blink of an eye, his Bian'an Weiyang light carried him across half of Hunzhou Island, descending at last upon the long-neglected Hunzhou Seaside Market.
The place had suffered upheaval and now lay desolate.
Where once bustling streets had thronged with life, now only scattered figures wandered.
The so-called Twenty-Four Official Shops had all been devastated under Xiang Yu's hand.
Though their structures still stood for now, without the Yamen's support, it was only a matter of time before new powers seized them.
Jing Qian strolled unhurriedly to his own holdings: a towering edifice looming in one corner of the market.
The craftsmen of Earth-Dragon Reef Island had done fine work indeed, constructing the building even grander than he had imagined.
Yet as he stood before its doors, his gaze froze.
For thereupon the great archway hung a freshly made plaque, its gilded characters gleaming:
"Elephant-God Monastery."
Jing Qian let out a light chuckle. These foreign monks do have a good eye and went straight for the best spot on the island.
But he hadn't come to Hunzhou's market for a polite visit.
With a casual flick of his wrist, a thread of sword-light swept across the plaque.
The three characters "Elephant-God Monastery" shattered instantly into splinters.
Such a blatant act of provocation was like kicking a hornet's nest.
A swarm of gray-robed monks stormed angrily out through the great doors of the tower.
The leader, a Dragon-Elephant Great Accomplishment cultivator, was tall and broad, his aura fierce. He opened his mouth to roar:
"Who dares violate the Prefect's dao-lineage?! Do you have a death wish? Come"
Before he could finish, his head was already flying skyward, landing with a thud and rolling across the ground.
His thick neck had been sliced through cleanly by a single sword-thread, no ragged edge, no stray fiber.
Even if someone picked the head up and pressed it back on, the cut would match perfectly.
And not just him, the eight Dragon-Elephant monks following close behind also lost their heads in the same instant, collapsing lifelessly at the monastery's gates.
For a moment, nine headless bodies gushed fountains of blood, drenching the ground.
Jing Qian remained spotless, not a drop upon him, only stretching out dozens of sword-threads to rifle through the corpses, searching for valuables.
Soon enough, nine storage treasures fell neatly into his hands.
His mood soared at once.
Ah, human cultivators really are the best. My Void Realm can finally welcome another wave of expansion. If every monk from Wuchang Temple carries a storage treasure like this, I'll have to pay each one a personal visit and "make friends."
At that moment, a vast surge of power dropped from the top floor of the tower, rolling down like a tidal wave toward him.
It was the sole Longevity Monk Xiang Yu had left behind to guard the island.
Jing Qian had paid this one extra attention.
Facing the man's assault, he simply unraveled it with Worldly Insight and sent a sword-thread slicing toward him.
This Longevity Monk bore the Vajrapani dharma-body, famed for its impregnable defense.
As the sword-thread descended, he instantly expanded the manifestation to its fullest, pouring in torrents of Blueblood Life Essence until the vajra warrior seemed alive.
But the very next second, Jing Qian's sword-thread slipped in from a subtle, uncanny angle, striking at a tiny discordant flaw in the flow of power.
The vaunted dharma-body he had cultivated for decades split wide open under that one cut.
And from the rift slipped a shadow, following the sword-thread like a phantom, piercing straight into the monk's back.
Blood sprayed violently, and the Longevity Monk staggered, gravely wounded.
He had no time to recover. A second sword-thread crashed down, brimming with overwhelming sword-qi, and the vajra dharma-body shattered like glass.
A dignified seventh-rank Longevity master, yet with no spiritual construct to aid him, had been reduced to nothing but a chicken awaiting slaughter.
And like a chicken, he too was decapitated in a single strike, his blood soaking the ground.
Jing Qian exhaled with relief.
So, no Spiritual Construct on him. Against my sword, he really was just meat for the cutting board.
The Qingping Sword Casket, raised to its current strength, had reached the point where breaking a seventh-rank cultivator's defenses was no longer difficult.
Unless facing a lineage heir, one of the great sect's Spiritual Construct Bearer, Jing Qian could now kill across realms as easily as chopping melons.
Carefully rummaging through the corpse, he claimed yet another storage treasure, the tenth, and this one of the eighth rank, a priceless find.
Thus, every subordinate Xiang Yu had stationed upon Hunzhou Island was annihilated by Jing Qian alone, in a single bout of sword-light.
Had Xiang Yu himself still been present, Jing Qian would never have dared such recklessness.
But with Xiang Yu away in the Sea of Resentful Souls, digging pits to ensnare him, it was only fair for Jing Qian to treat Hunzhou as his personal hunting ground.
After cutting down ten monks, he left his property behind and shot outward, racing beyond Hunzhou Island.
Every time he returned to the Jing Clan's official shop, it seemed the first order of business was slaughter. Strange fate indeed, he had come to do business, yet earned not a single coin, while dozens of lives had already been poured into the venture.
For a long while after his departure, Hunzhou Island lay in a power vacuum.
The Prefect's core subordinates were dead, the two remaining ninth-rank officials imprisoned by Xiang Yu.
In desperation, the twenty-three surviving merchant families of the official shops managed to catch their breath and cobble together a Hunzhou Self-Governance Council, an oddly comical form of local autonomy.
And yet, because of this, the Hunzhou market gradually began to revive.
Hidden in the dimensional void, Jing Qian streaked away at full speed.
With Bian'an Weiyang power pushed to its limit, he nearly reached twice the speed of sound.
By the time he crossed thirty thousand miles of ocean to descend upon Earth-Dragon Reef Island, only half a day had passed.
There, before the mission island, the Hunyi ship lay docked.
A squad of twenty monk-soldiers had already landed, confronting the local master builders.
At their head, a Longevity monk gestured and barked orders, imposing Xiang Yu's will.
But from afar, a fine sword-thread drifted in, piercing through sky and air.
It stabbed through the monk's protective dharma-body and sheared away half his skull.
This was Jing Qian's test striking from a hundred yards away.
Yet his blade strayed, cleaving only half the man's head.
Crude swordsmanship is too imprecise. I still need more practice.
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