Chapter 49: Master?
Xu Shizhong, clutching his bruised face, returned to the Xu family. He gathered a group of household thugs, intending to reclaim his dignity. Yet, on the way back, he was intercepted by a gang summoned by Hu Qiang from a nearby branch hall.
Out in the streets, this was not the Song residence, nor were there any taboos against blood at funerals. The members of the Green Sand Gang showed no mercy, dragging Xu Shizhong and his hired muscle into a narrow alley and beating them thoroughly.
Meanwhile, at the Song family’s funeral banquet—
Guests, after their tea and meals, discussed stories of “Liu Shen of the Green Sand Gang,” never noticing that the man quietly eating at their table was Liu Shen himself.
Before the banquet ended, Liu Shen saw Pei Hongyu, already “rallied,” his gaze resolute as he strode out once more...
Not long after, Hu Qiang led a squad into the Song family courtyard, eager to claim credit. He and his brothers surrounded Liu Shen’s table.
The guests, who had just been gossiping about the Green Sand Gang, shrank like quails, barely daring to breathe.
It was obvious to all that these men were from the Green Sand Gang, but they wondered why such a group would come to the Song household.
Liu Shen put down his chopsticks, his brow furrowed. “Why have you made such a spectacle?”
“Heh…” Hu Qiang scratched his head sheepishly. “The brothers heard it was something you ordered, Lord Liu, and everyone rushed to come.”
...
Liu Shen, hearing that his own reputation was the cause, could only ask, “Is the matter settled?”
“It’s done!” Hu Qiang leaned in, whispering, “Lord Qian sent word: If you’re free, you might come by to see him slaughter the pig—and share a drink…”
“He’s thoughtful…” Liu Shen nodded, noticing that the presence of more than ten Green Sand Gang members was drawing attention. He cupped his hands, saying, “Thank you all for your regard. The funeral banquet isn’t over yet. If you haven’t eaten, perhaps bow at the spirit hall, then join the table.”
“Scatter, scatter…” Hu Qiang waved his hand, laughing, “The job’s done, Lord Liu’s seen to it, let’s bow to Master Song, eat, and stop blocking everyone’s view.”
The Green Sand Gang dispersed.
Liu Shen saw that those at his table were furtively glancing at him, clearly intimidated. He knew that Hu Qiang and his men had exposed his identity.
He had lost the appetite to continue. Rising, he cupped his hands and smiled, “I have personal affairs to attend to. Please enjoy the meal and the wine…”
With that, he left.
Those at the table watched his retreating figure with lingering dread, then buried their heads in their food, silent.
As the funeral banquet ended, Pei Xueyan broke the banner and shattered the tile, marking the start of the Song family’s procession.
Everyone in the Song household—servants, stewards, workers—donned mourning garb. Some scattered paper money, others carried memorial banners, others shouldered the coffin. The whole procession marched out of the city.
Since Master Song left no heirs, Pei Xueyan carried the soul-leading banner at the front.
---
On the road, pedestrians seeing the funeral procession instinctively moved aside, save for a shabby old Taoist who stood in the middle, staring dazedly.
He watched Pei Xueyan’s face intently, his brows knotted, muttering cryptic phrases.
Pei Xueyan saw the old Taoist blocking the way, unmoved, and stepped forward to ask, “Would you kindly let us pass, master?”
“Something’s wrong… This fate is wrong…” the Taoist muttered, ignoring her request.
Pei Xueyan, seeing his odd manner, suspected he was not in his right mind. She tried again, “Master, my family is in mourning. Could you allow us to pass?”
“I am Huayangzi, greetings…” the old Taoist bowed, smiling. “Madam, your destiny is extraordinary, a sign of great fortune. But your brow is darkened, bad luck gathers—yours is a dual fate: blessing within misfortune, misfortune within blessing.”
...
Pei Xueyan frowned, finding his words mysterious and unintelligible.
Huayangzi clicked his tongue, marveling, “Such a fate is rare in the world. It’s the first I’ve seen.”
“Oh?” Pei Xueyan’s eyes flickered with skepticism and contempt.
Her life had changed after a fateful prediction; Master Song, who trusted fortune all his life, ultimately smashed the idol in anger.
Everything is fate! Nothing is fate!
Now, she scoffed at the very notion, and asked, “So, master, what is so rare about my destiny?”
Huayangzi pondered for a moment. “Without assistance from a benefactor, you’ll likely endure hardship for half your life before your luck turns.”
To bolster his claim, the shabby Taoist continued, “If I’m not mistaken, those close to you these years have suffered misfortune—loss of wealth, disasters, some even losing their lives.”
“Though you suffer, you often gain from calamity. All is due to your fate and the dark luck gathered at your brow.”
“If the bad luck could be dispelled, your fortune alone would be most auspicious.”
...
The more Pei Xueyan listened, the more she suspected he was a charlatan. She raised her brows and asked, “So, master, are you my benefactor?”
“Not at all…” Huayangzi replied modestly, though his hand stroked his beard with an air of self-assurance.
“Our sect’s rule is to take one male and one female disciple per generation. I’ve already taken a female disciple years ago, but still lack a male.”
“Normally, you wouldn’t qualify, but meeting someone of your rare fate here is a chance not to be missed. If you wish, I can make an exception and take you as my second disciple!”
---
“If you join my sect, I’ll not only dispel your bad luck, but teach you cultivation…”
As Huayangzi boasted about his lineage, Pei Yingli strode out from the funeral procession, his face cold, and snapped, “Who is this crazy old man blocking the way?”
...
Huayangzi was stunned.
Pei Yingli, who had sold his daughter to the Song family because of a fortune-teller, now schemed for her inheritance. Guilt gnawed at him.
Seeing his daughter talking to a superstitious Taoist, he feared she would recall her painful past.
“Don’t you see this is a funeral procession?” Pei Yingli hauled the shabby Taoist aside, scolding, “If you’re going to con people with superstitions, at least pick your moment! This is a funeral! Are you so old you want to join the dead?”
...
Huayangzi’s face twitched, unable to reply before the extraordinary-fated lady spoke.
“Father, give the old man some silver. Let’s not waste time.”
...
Pei Yingli nodded, pulling a few silver beans from his pouch and tossing them into the Taoist’s arms. “Take the money and go. Don’t delay our burial.”
Pei Xueyan nodded to Huayangzi, then motioned for the procession to continue.
...
Huayangzi stared blankly at the handful of silver beans, his face twisted.
He watched the funeral procession recede into the distance and finally came to himself, muttering in disbelief, “I… have been mistaken for a charlatan?”
Those nearby burst into laughter, jeering, “Old hand, don’t be greedy. You’ve made a good haul.”
“Indeed, you’re seasoned—just a few words and you pocketed some silver.”
Another teased, “You said you need a male disciple? How about me? I want to earn silver with my tongue too—can I join your sect?”
“Hahaha—!”
Laughter echoed around.
Huayangzi smiled at the banter, paying it no heed. He gazed after the departing procession, clicking his tongue, “Clearly, we are fated not to meet. What a pity…”
With that, he turned away, and though he seemed to take only a few steps, his figure vanished from the street.
---
At the Green Sand Gang’s branch hall,
Ning Sanniang sat cross-legged in a quiet chamber, her skin radiant, true energy swirling above her head as she stabilized her freshly attained fifth realm.
Suddenly, sensing something, she opened her eyes and sprang up. Opening the door and seeing the shabby figure, her eyes lit up with surprise, “Master!”