The sudden message froze Wang Haoran mid-bite. He blinked and quickly opened the system log to read the full details. A look of disbelief spread across his face.
Was that even possible?
He was dumbfounded at first, but after thinking it through more carefully, it didn’t seem so far-fetched. Any guy who could openly wear women’s clothing without shame probably had a trace of that kind of tendency in his heart. It would be something faint—barely noticeable in daily life, often even unnoticed by the person himself.
But after what Ling Nanxu had just gone through, that buried tendency had clearly been dragged out and magnified.
If there was any way to describe it, it would be this—he had opened the door to a brand-new world.
That said, it was still just a faint shift. Under normal circumstances, Ling Nanxu could probably suppress it. However, if someone were to deliberately lead him further down that path… well, that would be a different story entirely.
Wang Haoran started to feel like Jiang Gaoxuan might not be as necessary to this operation as he initially thought.
Finishing his food quickly, he contacted Zuoqiu Chenyu to discuss a few plans.
In the imperial capital, nestled within a quiet, refined courtyard.
The pavilions and walkways stretched like poetry in stone. On one such terrace, a calm young woman sat gracefully, her jet-black hair cascading like silk down her back until it brushed against her waist. She looked to be only around twenty years old, her face bare of any makeup, yet still breathtaking. Her long lashes framed a pair of obsidian-like eyes, still and serene, without a single ripple of emotion.
She should have been in the full bloom of youth, yet her bearing was unusually calm and mature for someone her age. That very contrast gave her an air of mystery, making her seem like someone untouched by the mundane world.
With a gentle motion, she extended her pale, slender hand and pushed a freshly poured cup of tea toward the man seated across from her.
The man’s features were twisted and unsightly, his face disfigured with scars that cut jagged paths across his skin. He looked like a demon from hell. Yet in the capital, no one dared underestimate him. That was because he was a master of physiognomy. Powerful figures constantly sought his insight and feared his predictions.
He went by the Daoist title—Tianjizi.
“You’re too polite, junior sister,” Tianjizi said as he raised the cup and took a sip.
“What brings senior brother here today?” the woman asked gently, her lips the color of rose petals. Her voice was as clear as a mountain spring, soft and pleasant to the ear.
“I had a sudden premonition and cast a divination,” Tianjizi said slowly. “It revealed that our master has come down from the mountain and is currently in a city called Qingling.”
She didn’t seem surprised. Her expression didn’t shift at all. “I know.”
Tianjizi was stunned. “You knew? Did you divine it too?”
He practiced the art of heavenly prediction through facial features, while she specialized in feng shui, and numerology. The two disciplines were connected in principle but vastly different in practice. Logically speaking, she shouldn’t have been able to calculate such a thing.
“I didn’t need to divine anything,” she replied. A strange look crossed her face, and for a moment she hesitated, unsure how to explain. After some thought, she simply stopped trying and instead opened a certain app on her phone.
Then she handed it over.
Tianjizi looked confused, but he took the phone. The moment he saw the video clip, his eyes widened.
“That’s Master!”
He recognized him immediately. But after watching for a few more seconds, his expression also turned strange.
Now he understood why his junior sister had been reluctant to explain.
It was that short video of Qin Fan, the one where he showcased his skills. Thanks to certain people fanning the flames, the video had gone viral across the internet. Anyone even slightly connected to social media had seen it.
Tianjizi, being old-fashioned and still using a basic flip phone, hadn’t caught wind of it until now.
Both of them once trained under Qin Fan in the deep mountains. Though they learned different arts, they were disciples of the same master. After descending the mountain, they each went their separate ways and only reunited in the capital later.
Tianjizi became renowned for his flawless fortune-telling, helping others avoid disaster and seek prosperity. His name soon spread across the city.
The woman’s name was Mu Nanzhi. She mastered feng shui and numerology, which had practical applications that brought her just as much fame. People called her the female geomancer of the capital.
She was only twenty years old, yet her looks were rare even among beauties. That, combined with her quiet and ethereal temperament, made her the target of affection for countless prominent young men in the city.
Unfortunately for them, every one of those suitors failed. Not a single one managed to win even a smile from her.
Rumors began to spread. People claimed that Mu Nanzhi was born frigid, with no desire for men. Whether that was true or not, only she knew.
“I really didn’t expect Master to have such interests,” Tianjizi said, breaking the awkward silence after a long pause. “I never saw it coming.”
Mu Nanzhi’s expression did not change. Her black, gem-like eyes remained placid as she replied, “That is Master’s personal matter. No matter how much it may conflict with how we once saw him, the debt of having received his teachings can never be denied.”
Tianjizi nodded, a faint smile forming on his scarred face. “Agreed.”
He lifted his cup again, then suddenly said, “Since Master is in Qingling, and we’re aware of it, one of us should at least go.”
Mu Nanzhi looked at him calmly. “Then you should go.”
Tianjizi’s expression froze, and he shook his head. “I cannot.”
Mu Nanzhi arched a brow slightly, not speaking but clearly waiting for him to explain.
He exhaled slowly. “Years ago, I was pursued to the brink of death in Qingling. I was saved by a man, and in return, I swore a venomous oath that I would never step foot in that city again. Just before I came here, I divined my own fortune. If I go to Qingling, I will most likely never return.”
Mu Nanzhi looked at him for a long moment, then quietly set her teacup down. “Understood.”
“Could you tell me what happened?” she asked, her calm eyes flickering with curiosity.
“It’s too embarrassing,” Tianjizi scratched his head. “If I tell you, you’ll laugh at me.”
Mu Nanzhi didn’t press him. Instead, after a moment of thought, she said, “Then why don’t you tell me what awaits me in Qingling?”
She paused, then added, “And for the record, I’m not paying you for the reading.”
“You’re joking. I’ll never dare charge you,” Tianjizi laughed, then composed himself and began calculating.
Mu Nanzhi waited patiently, sipping her tea between quiet breaths, savoring each taste with unspoken appreciation. Her love for tea seemed to belong to someone far older than her years.
After a long moment, Tianjizi finally opened his eyes.
Mu Nanzhi had drained her cup. Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Well?”
“You may encounter… a calamity of blood.”
His tone was serious, slow, and careful. But deep in his eyes, a subtle flicker of something perverse briefly surfaced and vanished.
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