Amid the steady stream of fortune-seekers at the neighboring stall, two familiar faces emerged.
One was Zhang Chunlin, the young master of the Hidden Mist Manor, carrying a sword case that housed four blades—likely *Chu Si*, *Seng Lu*, *Frostblade*, and *Rootless Skywater*. It was at Hidden Mist Manor that Xu Fengnian first encountered the white-robed immortals of the Guanyin Sect, including the infamous Coal-Selling Girl. Later, in the Western Regions, Xu Fengnian crossed paths with Zhang Chunlin again. To his surprise, the young man still regarded him as a benefactor, even naming his sword *Frostblade* after the famed *Water Dragon Chant* forge. Such defiance of orthodox swordsmanship was bound to stir controversy in the martial world. Fortunately, Hidden Mist Manor was now at its zenith, with the *Dragon Cliff* and *Water Dragon Chant* forges producing over a dozen renowned blades, propelling the manor into the ranks of the Top Ten Sects of Liyang—even surpassing the *Jia Drum Terrace* of Jiangnan and the *Fish-Dragon Gang* of Northern Liang.
The other was Wei Chi Duquan, the young mistress of *Rapid Snow Manor* by *Spring God Lake*. Unlike Zhang Chunlin, who wandered the martial world alone, she stood beside a plainly dressed yet imposing middle-aged man—her father, Wei Chi Liangfu.
Xu Fengnian watched the pair with an amused smile. They made a well-matched couple.
Zhang Chunlin showed no interest in drawing a fortune stick himself, content to stand beside Wei Chi Duquan as she playfully shook the bamboo cylinder. His gaze softened as he watched her.
The old fortune-teller was a master of flattery. Unless the stick was undeniably ill-fated, he could effortlessly spin a neutral fortune into an auspicious one—especially for guests he deemed wealthy or noble. After all, his stall on Wudang Mountain was a temporary venture, riding the wave of the recent martial arts spectacle. He had no need for repeat customers.
When the young woman handed him her stick, the old man beamed. “A rare and excellent fortune, my lady! *’All the heroes of the court stand here—who among them shall be the champion?’* This refers to the first imperial examination after the late emperor unified the realm. Seeing the hall filled with talent, he was overjoyed and posed this very question! This fortune suggests you are surrounded by worthy suitors. Truly, I need say no more—only that you should not let indecision waste your youth.”
Wei Chi Liangfu smiled faintly. As a seasoned figure in the martial world, he saw through the old man’s act. But since his daughter had drawn a favorable fortune, he had no reason to dampen her joy.
Wei Chi Duquan turned to her father excitedly. “Father, I told you the fortunes here are accurate!”
Wei Chi Liangfu’s eyes brimmed with affection. “Indeed, very accurate.”
She hesitated, then asked the old man, “May I keep this stick?”
The old man feigned reluctance—until he noticed her father reaching for his purse. “Of course, my lady! I can easily write another. No trouble at all.”
Wei Chi Duquan accepted the stick with both hands and winked at her father.
Wei Chi Liangfu sighed in mock exasperation and placed his entire purse on the table.
She raised the bamboo stick high, basking in the autumn sunlight, her face alight with joy. Beside her, Zhang Chunlin smiled as well.
As rising stars in Liyang’s martial world, *Rapid Snow Manor* and *Hidden Mist Manor* were natural allies—unlike the rivalries of old, such as the *Wu Family Sword Tomb* versus *Dongyue Sword Pool* or *Dragon-Tiger Mountain* versus *Wudang Mountain*. In fact, Wei Chi Liangfu had taken an immediate liking to Zhang Chunlin during their first meeting, seeing him as a perfect match for his daughter. The young man’s humility and solitary travels—despite his newfound wealth—only deepened Wei Chi Liangfu’s respect. Moreover, Zhang Chunlin’s parents, the esteemed couple of Hidden Mist Manor, were known for their integrity.
Yet Wei Chi Liangfu had deeper considerations. With the decline of the Northern Faction’s *Dragon-Supporting Scholars*, rumors swirled that Zhang Chunlin’s mother hailed from the *Nanhai Guanyin Sect*—a prodigious cultivator in her youth. If the two manors allied through marriage, what seemed like a slight advantage for Hidden Mist Manor now might prove to be *Rapid Snow Manor*’s foresight in the long run.
Of course, if his daughter and Zhang Chunlin proved incompatible, Wei Chi Liangfu would never force the match. His daughter’s happiness mattered more than the manor’s standing—even to a man as ambitious as him, who had remained unmarried since his wife’s passing.
Wei Chi Liangfu never denied the ruthless measures he had taken to elevate *Rapid Snow Manor*. But he held one conviction: his machinations in the martial world were all so that his daughter would never have to scheme for herself.
As they walked away, Wei Chi Duquan suddenly leaned in and whispered, “Father, how much longer will you keep Aunt Liu waiting? She’s not getting any younger.”
Wei Chi Liangfu’s face flushed. Though the woman had never set foot in the manor, rumors had clearly reached his daughter’s ears. His eyes narrowed. Whoever had leaked this would soon find themselves feeding the fish of *Spring God Lake*.
Wei Chi Duquan, oblivious to his darkening expression, added airily, “Just marry her. What’s the big deal? Hiding it makes you seem so unheroic. I might stop admiring you.”
Wei Chi Liangfu exhaled. “Understood.”
She tacked on, “And don’t be angry.”
He smiled. “I know.”
As Zhang Chunlin turned to follow the father and daughter, his gaze caught a figure in the crowd. His eyes widened as if seeing a ghost—until the man raised a finger to his lips. Zhang Chunlin composed himself and walked on.
Xu Fengnian, having finished his *Wudang Spring Pancake*, dusted off his hands and prepared to leave. His little clay figure, having failed to locate him while sword-riding, had stormed off in a huff. By now, she’d likely cooled down—at least enough not to greet him with a blade.
A few harsh words or a closed door? To Xu Fengnian, whose face was thicker than *Jubei City*’s walls, it was nothing.
But just then, the crowd between *Ancestor Lü’s Pavilion* and *Elephant-Washing Pool* suddenly parted—as if split by *Wang Chonglou*’s legendary *River-Splitting Finger*.
Xu Fengnian rubbed his temples and stood, though he made no move to leave.
It was *her*—the woman from *Huishan Mountain*. Though she wasn’t wearing her signature violet robes today, someone sharp-eyed had recognized her.
Like a dragon plunging into an anthill, the crowd instinctively made way.
Wei Chi Liangfu stopped and clasped his hands. “Alliance Leader Xuanyuan.”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng ignored him, brushing past the trio without a glance.
Wei Chi Liangfu, unfazed, waited until the *Snowy Plateau’s Moonless Tower* master had walked a dozen paces before continuing.
Wei Chi Duquan couldn’t resist looking back at the woman who had subdued countless heroes beneath her violet skirts.
*The Thirteen Paragons of Xiangfu*—she claimed three.
Rumors said she had barred the current emperor from her door and attained enlightenment in a single night atop *Guniu Ridge*, watching the snow.
Wei Chi Duquan murmured, “So beautiful. Just… icy.”
Wei Chi Liangfu shot her a warning glance.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng strode to the old fortune-teller’s stall. The man gulped, frozen in place.
She looked down at the trembling “Immortal Wu” and asked coolly, “Are they accurate?”
The old man was neither blind nor deaf. Knowing who she was, he dared not even entertain a stray thought—let alone try to deceive her.
Xuanyuan Violet Robe’s mercurial temper was legendary.
She had halted *Wang Xianzhi* on the *Guangling River*, barred *Xu Fengnian* at *Xia Mawei Posthouse*, and stopped *Cao Changqing* outside *Tai’an City*.
She dared such madness because she was *Xuanyuan Violet Robe*.
In all of Liyang’s vast martial world, how many such lunatics existed?
Sweating, the old man stammered, “Honored Alliance Leader… not very accurate.”
He truly didn’t dare boast. If his words displeased her, he’d be digging his own grave.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng arched a brow. “Oh?”
Panicked, the old man amended, “Mostly accurate! Just… not every time!”
Xu Fengnian, watching nearby, admired the old man’s quick wit. In swindling, the key was leaving no loose ends—a skill few possessed.
Pity he was too broke to tip.
Expressionless, Xuanyuan Qingfeng picked up the cylinder holding 108 marriage sticks. She lifted it slightly and shook.
Her wrist, smooth as jade, turned slowly.
Each rotation made the old man’s heart skip.
Normally, it meant a hundred coins earned. Now, it might cost his life.
Finally, a stick leaped out.
She plucked it and read, “*‘Two lives, one body—yet alone in shadow.’* Which number?”
The old man wished for death. Did this even need interpreting?
Slumping on his stool, he whispered, “The eighty-fourth.”
In desperation, he blurted, “Alliance Leader! This—this is one of the inaccurate ones!”
Bystanders held their breath.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng tossed the stick back and shook again.
The old man stared, praying to every deity he could name—from *Zhenwu the Great* to his hometown’s *Earth God*.
But when she read the second stick—*”Climbing a tree for fish—futile in the end.”*—his heart sank.
“Which number?” she asked.
Drenched in sweat, he sighed. “The fifty-fourth.”
Holding the stick and cylinder, she neither returned it nor spoke. Her phoenix eyes narrowed.
The old man bowed his head. “My sticks… aren’t accurate.”
He no longer dared call himself “this humble Daoist.”
After a glance elsewhere, she hesitated—then shook a third time.
A stick clattered onto the table.
The old man shut his eyes, ready to die.
Her voice came, cool and clear: “*‘Divination resolves doubt—no doubt, why divine?’*”
Dazed, the old man didn’t react.
Someone else answered for him: “The eleventh. A neutral fortune.”
The old man’s face lit up. “Alliance Leader! Neutral! Truly neutral!”
He wept with relief.
Having narrowly escaped death, even cold water and stale bread would taste like ambrosia.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng pondered, then—to everyone’s shock—shook a fourth time.
This time, the old man rallied, scanning the crowd for his mysterious savior.
But in the sea of faces, it was hopeless.
When she drew the fourth stick, she didn’t read it aloud. Instead, she handed it to the old man. “Interpret.”
Trembling, he took it and babbled, “Neutral! Neutral! Neutral…”
He kept repeating it like a mantra.
Unfazed, she waited until he calmed. “Interpret.”
Wiping his tears, the old man stood shakily and bowed. “Alliance Leader, this is the ninety-sixth: *‘Perhaps ten years, perhaps seven or eight, perhaps five or six, perhaps three or four.’* It means… in matters of love, haste brings failure. Patience is needed.”
He hastily added, “But it might not be accurate.”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng said nothing, extending her hand.
The old man hurriedly returned the stick to this living nightmare of a woman.
Then she stunned everyone: “Your sticks are quite accurate. Good.”
She set down the cylinder, plucked three sticks, and crushed two to dust between her fingers—leaving only two.
Looking at the old man—who seemed freshly dragged from *Elephant-Washing Pool*—she said, “You interpreted four sticks for me.”
The old man’s eyes bulged, lips parched.
She continued, “Choose one: a hundred taels of gold, a Daoist manual, a mansion in *Lingzhou*, or a first-rank guest seat on *Huishan Mountain*.”
The old man burst into tears again. “I choose *Huishan Mountain*! A guest seat on *Snowy Plateau*!”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng turned and walked away without a word.
Carrying the two marriage sticks with her.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage