As Fu Nanhua stepped out of the house, he noticed the delicate, quietly beautiful maid sitting on a small wooden stool in the courtyard. She was feeding chickens, a handful of corn in her slender hands. A mother hen pecked at the grains with her downy chicks in tow. Upon seeing her, Fu Nanhua offered a faint smile. The girl, whether shy by nature or simply aloof, gave a half-hearted tug at the corner of her lips—her version of a return greeting.
Opening the courtyard gate, Fu Nanhua found Cai Jinjan waiting in the alleyway, looking rather dispirited. He turned and gently closed the door behind him. Through the narrowing sliver of the doorway, he caught a glimpse of the maid's face as she looked up at him. Unexpectedly, this lowly girl—who by all appearances should've been steeped in the rustic aura of poverty—possessed eyes of rare and remarkable clarity. They reminded him of the tender green of spring's first bloom. Yet Fu Nanhua spared her no further thought. Women of stunning appearance, in all their varied charms and forms, had long since ceased to intrigue the young lord of Old Dragon City.
As he walked alongside Cai Jinjan, Fu Nanhua asked, "What's wrong? Encountered a setback? Fortunes and fated opportunities are often hard-won. Rarely does everything fall perfectly into place on the first try. There's no need to lose heart."
Cai Jinjan, born with a naturally graceful allure, had undergone spiritual cultivation that refined her body to a state as pure as crystal. Compared to worldly women, her form was now ethereal. Mortal beauties, no matter how dazzling at first glance, were ultimately but decaying flesh.
Her face, however, betrayed her mood—it was clouded, clearly showing just how troubled she was. She must have been fuming long before he arrived, barely holding back the urge to vent. At last, she spoke, "A more powerful figure beat me to it—Liu Zhimao, one of Book Lake's entrenched local powers, the so-called True Lord of the River's End. He didn't even bother negotiating. The moment we met, he invoked the name of my sect's grandmaster to pressure me. I barely managed a few words before being driven out of Gu Can's residence."
Fu Nanhua nodded thoughtfully. "Let's discuss this beyond Mud Bottle Alley."
Cai Jinjan frowned slightly. "Isn't magic entirely suppressed in this place?"
Fu Nanhua chuckled. "Anyone capable of seeking fate here is bound to possess some hidden trump card. For young cultivators like us, it may not be significant. But according to this town's rules, the stronger one's cultivation, the greater the suppression. Below the level of a sage, the closer one is to that realm, the weaker they become here—like infants, yes? But think: if a true expert was willing to risk damaging their own cultivation to exert divine power, do you really think they'd be weaker than novices like us?"
Cai Jinjan countered, "There's a sage here. Would Liu Zhimao dare to strike at me so brazenly?"
Fu Nanhua replied gently, "We're here to seek virtuous fate, not to sow enmity. Even if our lives aren't at stake, making enemies of senior figures is never wise."
Cai Jinjan was not one to be stubborn without cause. She nodded, "Brother Fu speaks wisely—sensible and prudent words indeed." Then, with a sorrowful expression, she added, "Still, I cannot reconcile with it. I already gave you ten pieces of Cloudroot Stone. If this all comes to naught, how will I explain myself to the ancestors?"
Once they stepped out of Mud Bottle Alley, both Fu Nanhua and Cai Jinjan felt their spirits lift. It wasn't merely due to the sudden brightness of light—the oppressive weight had lifted. They exchanged a glance, then quickly looked away.
Fu Nanhua, once so animated, grew more composed. He silently reflected on their foray into the alley. His alliance with Cai Jinjan had left no flaws. His transaction with the youth, Song Jixin, was by the book—a fair deal under all definitions. Surely, the sage watching over the tides of wind and water in this place would not stoop to interfere. Then where did this pressure come from? Could it truly be that obscure figure, the so-called True Lord Liu Zhimao?
Compared to Fu Nanhua's layered considerations, Cai Jinjan's thoughts were more straightforward. She believed Fu Nanhua was right—Liu Zhimao must've used some arcane technique to monitor her. The thought unnerved her. Thankfully, all she'd done was complain, not curse or threaten.
As they walked down the street, the further they moved from the alley, the lighter their hearts became. Fu Nanhua felt it was the weight of fate lifting; Cai Jinjan saw it as the burden of family expectations easing.
Gazing up at a distant archway, Fu Nanhua asked curiously, "The True Lord of Book Lake? Strange—I have no recollection of such a figure. Even if my Old Dragon City lies at the far southern edge of the continent, a True Lord's title is no trivial matter. I should've at least heard of him."
Cai Jinjan lowered her voice, sneering, "True Lord? He's no more than a mid-tier figure among the fringe sects. Full of sanctimonious airs, completely unworthy of the title. That flattery—nothing but the drivel of sycophants. The Yuanwu Emperor is no fool; he'd never bestow such a title on someone like him. True Lord titles are rare as hen's teeth—just two remain unclaimed. Given how lavishly the emperor's ancestors handed them out, there's no way he'd waste one on a self-aggrandizing rogue."
Fu Nanhua nodded in understanding. "So that's the truth."
Each True Lord held sway over a dynasty's fortunes. Among Daoist cultivators, a True Lord stood at the peak of secular influence—akin to a top general in the military, or a Grand Scholar among Confucians.
Feigning casualness, Cai Jinjan asked, "What do you think of that Song Jixin?"
Fu Nanhua replied lightly, "That boy? Ambitious, quick-witted, well-connected... though his scope…"
"Is narrow?" Cai Jinjan teased.
Fu Nanhua laughed, "Not narrow, just... not wide enough."
Under the archway, Fu Nanhua's spirit surged. He murmured, "When fortune arrives, even the heavens lend their aid."
Cai Jinjan looked up at the inscribed words: 'Seek Not Without.' Her heart sank with an inexplicable emptiness, as if the epiphany she gained in Mud Bottle Alley had quietly slipped away, leaving her vexed and unsettled.
Song Jixin's residence was among the grandest in the alley. It had a main hall with a plaque and two side wings. The plaque read Hall of Far Yearning, unsigned. Song Jixin always felt that judging by the calligraphy alone, it wasn't the work of any renowned master.
At that moment, he was rummaging through a chest in the main room, while his maid Zhi Gui stood by the door. She asked softly, "Young master, the deal fell through?"
Song Jixin put down a string of bells and slumped into the only chair, hands behind his head and legs crossed. "That Fu Nanhua from Old Dragon City—he's no fool. He didn't mistake me for some naive pushover. But he's not especially clever either. Tried to play me, as if a few cryptic gestures and a bit of thunderous flair would win my awe and submission. Compared to the inscrutable Mister Qi, he's a hundred thousand miles behind."
Zhi Gui giggled, "A hundred thousand miles? Young master, isn't that a bit exaggerated?"
Song Jixin made a face. "Then say ten Mud Bottle Alleys!"
He tossed a small pouch to her. "Look—these are the coins mentioned in the secret letter. That Chen fellow next door got a bag just like this. I knew from the start that having such fortune drop from the sky wasn't necessarily a blessing. And sure enough, it stirred up trouble with those two pairs of scheming lovers. I bet Chen's in for a rough time."
He leaned in, eyes glinting. "Oh, and Zhi Gui—guess who came to our home? Claimed to be the young lord of Old Dragon City. Judging by his tone and manner, he's no mere showpiece. And this jade pendant—he said it's the legendary Rainbringer of Old Dragon. Must be worth a fortune!"
Song Jixin patted the brilliant green jade, its glow…