Chapter 20: Old Yang
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As he strolled casually to clear his mind, a clear, bright voice suddenly rang out not far from the street, seemingly calling to him.
“Come see, come see! Fortune-telling here—no charge if I can’t predict it right!”
Su Ling halted his steps and turned toward the fortune-telling stall by the roadside.
At the stall stood a tall, lean Taoist clad in a gray robe, his gaze pointedly fixed on Su Ling.
The man’s handsome features exuded an aura of profound mystery. Wearing a Taoist crown, he was striking to behold, yet surprisingly, passersby paid him little mind.
At the very first glance, Su Ling recognized this seemingly erudite Taoist as Lu Chen, the Taoist Immortal and the third favorite disciple of the Patriarch.
Hearing the call, Su Ling knew Lu Chen was indeed beckoning him—perhaps feeling a destined connection?
Intrigued and in good spirits after recently resolving a matter, Su Ling approached, drawn by Lu Chen’s pointed look.
“How much for a fortune-telling reading?”
“Ah, fellow cultivator, I’m straightforward. But I, Lu Chen, never charge for readings—it all depends on fate.”
Upon hearing this, Su Ling recalled the original story where Liu Xianyang, caught in a web of schemes, was caught by Lu Chen on the street and had his wool pulled.
With a playful expression, Su Ling turned to Lu Chen, whose own surprise suggested he wondered if Su Ling actually knew him.
“Don’t trust me, fellow cultivator?”
“…Then why don’t you tell me what you see?”
Unbothered by Lu Chen’s displeasure, Su Ling directly asked about himself.
At this, Lu Chen’s brows twitched slightly, his sharp eyes reflecting Su Ling’s tall figure.
“Fortune-telling has its rules and etiquette. What would you like to know?”
“In that case… tell me about my future achievements in martial cultivation.”
“You’re really… straightforward, fellow cultivator.”
Though hesitant, Lu Chen did not refuse. His eyes, sparkling like stars, closed gently.
His thin lips murmured softly; his nose creased slightly as a majestic and enigmatic aura enveloped him. He appeared utterly absorbed, as if a celestial being.
About three minutes passed. Just as Su Ling began growing impatient, Lu Chen finally opened his eyes, weary and filled with astonishment.
“I have divined that your future martial achievements… are but emptiness.”
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“Oh?”
Su Ling was somewhat taken aback but did not dwell on the meaning. He fully trusted Lu Chen’s divinations, yet even he found this result surprising.
In a certain sense, Lu Chen’s reading was not wrong. Fortune-telling rarely shows such chaotic omens unless the subject is fated to die soon.
Lu Chen’s truth was that Su Ling’s future would not unfold long in this world; thus, the visions were empty—no death, no past.
“But... I seem to glimpse a faint, concealed form of a Martial God’s body within the void?”
At this point, even Lu Chen seemed puzzled by what he had divined, utterly baffled.
Without waiting for Su Ling’s response, Lu Chen lifted his hand, his slender fingers tapping together with a sound like thunder roaring through tiger and leopard.
Su Ling remained silent, watching the Taoist’s serious frown and solemn expression, refraining from interrupting, and naturally turned away from the fortune-telling stall.
Judging by the time, Chen Ping’an should have finished delivering all the letters by now.
With this thought, Su Ling’s interest was piqued. He quickened his pace, moving with the grace of a dragon and the power of a tiger, heading toward the town’s famed medical hall.
This was the legendary place known as the Shrine of the Azure Youth Heavenly Lord in the original tale, reputed for its mysterious strength.
Why did he choose to go to such a perilous place? After all, the divine master there, known as Old Yang, was hardly approachable.
In truth, Su Ling sought only a clue about the mysterious loss of his life-essence porcelain three years ago.
Old Yang, hidden deep within the Pearl Cavern Heaven, surely held some information about the life-essence porcelain.
Why hadn’t he searched there earlier? As a proud disciple of Ruan Qiong, he respected the master’s connection with Old Yang.
Besides, Old Yang’s complex character—neither wholly good nor evil—made him difficult to deal with. Three years ago, Su Ling’s strength was nowhere near what it is now.
Seeking help at the medical hall then was risky, so he delayed until now, finally recalling Old Yang’s extensive divine skills.
After all, the town was on the verge of collapse; soon, Old Yang might no longer remain in Pearl Cavern Heaven.
Still, Su Ling held little hope. Even after three years of searching by the sword cultivator Ruan Qiong, no trace of the life-essence porcelain had surfaced.
The mastermind behind the theft must be at least a top-tier cultivator, perhaps even stronger than Ruan Qiong.
If Old Yang had no leads, Su Ling planned to move on to other places—he was unhurried.
After three years of relentless physical training without depletion, his strength was comparable to the legendary “One Punch Baldy.”
His only weakness, his spirit, had been tempered to unyielding resilience. Even a top-tier cultivator’s covert attacks could not harm it.
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His body was a furnace; his spirit forged into a thousand-times-hammered iron cast, fully formed.
Moreover, to strike his spirit directly, one must first shatter his extraordinarily robust physique.
Unless wielding divine powers or using celestial artifacts infused with supreme divine force, it was nearly impossible to strike his spirit.
After three years of training, he had armed himself to the teeth, short of donning a full set of battle armor.
Now, feeling invincible—at least to himself—he was uncertain just how powerful he had become.
Encounters allowing him to unleash his full strength were rare, but one thing was certain: no one could withstand his full-power strike head-on.
To put it in perspective, a normal attack from “One Punch Baldy” could slay a dragon-level peak monster, let alone a serious punch.
If his opponent was a cosmic emperor-level being, his full strike would only reveal a fraction of his power.
After that, the enemy would simply vanish into ash.
Though this vast world was not a modern, tech-oriented one, the power of strong cultivators was not so different.
After all, they were humanoid beings, and death upon killing was a universal truth here.
...
At the town center,
Su Ling stepped through the medical hall’s entrance, his gaze casually sweeping over the interior.
Though not bustling, the hall was steadily busy, evidence of thriving business.
Soon, guided by a clerk, Su Ling passed along a wooden corridor to a secluded courtyard within the hall.
The front courtyard was a pharmacy dealing with mortal suffering; the expansive back courtyard was Old Yang’s leisure spot.
“Boy, I hear you’re looking for me?”
A deep, resonant, and aged voice spoke. Su Ling looked toward the courtyard center to see an elderly man reclining on a wooden chair beneath the shade, leisurely puffing on a dry tobacco pipe.
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