Wen Shuangbai calculated the timeline of the plot, humming a self-composed tune about artifact forging while cracking melon seeds as she deliberately took the long way around the outer peaks.
This detour led her past the Sky-Questioning Pavilion.
The disciples of the Sky-Questioning Pavilion specialized in four arts: divination, curses, talismans, and formations.
A stone bridge spanning a towering cliff connected the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion and the Sky-Questioning Pavilion.
On any ordinary day, no fewer than fifty fortune-tellers would set up stalls here, if not a hundred.
But today, the Sky-Questioning Pavilion side was unusually quiet and deserted, with only a single stall left on the bridge.
A sign on the stall read: "Fortune-telling—880 spirit stones per reading!"
The handwriting was scrawled like a dog’s paw prints, hideously messy.
Wen Shuangbai subtly averted her gaze, pretending disinterest as she walked past without a glance.
"Fellow cultivator, wait!" The young stall owner, with a face as fair as a pretty boy, grinned and stopped her. "I see an extraordinary aura about you, unlike ordinary folk. Would you like your fortune told? I can divine your luck or predict your future."
Wen Shuangbai refused bluntly, "No. My future isn’t worth 880."
"..."
The stall owner’s smile froze.
Wen Shuangbai nimbly sidestepped him, but he blocked her again. "Wait, since we’re fated, I’ll give you a discount—"
Seeing her unmoved and about to leave, he hastily amended, "Pay what you like! Just listen to my reading, and you can decide the price! ...Hey, hey! Don’t go! You don’t even have to pay!"
Wen Shuangbai paused, her skirt swaying as she gracefully took a seat in front of the stall, looking perfectly agreeable. "That works."
Free opportunities were too good to pass up.
The stall owner: "..."
He sat back down, cleared his throat, and adopted the air of a reclusive master. "What would you like me to divine?"
Wen Shuangbai tucked the melon seed shells into her storage pouch and pondered. "A month from now, will I take first place in the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion?"
The stall owner wondered if he’d misheard. "What first place?"
Wen Shuangbai smiled faintly. "First place in the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion."
His expression turned incredulous. "No."
Wen Shuangbai: "?"
She frowned. "Did you even cast the hexagram before saying no?"
Even if he wasn’t charging, he should at least uphold some professional ethics.
The stall owner looked even more exasperated than her. "You’re a disciple of the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion? Then you can’t possibly not know Bai Lijue."
Of course, Wen Shuangbai had heard of him.
Bai Lijue, of the Bai family, was the undisputed top disciple of the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion.
In the book, he was indeed the winner of the upcoming competition—and, of course, one of the many proud geniuses infatuated with the heroine, Yu Xiaoxiao.
The stall owner leaned closer. "And you? You’re only at the third layer of the Lingchu Realm."
Wen Shuangbai pressed a hand to his forehead and pushed him back. "Just divine it for me."
The stall owner’s smile vanished, his mood souring instantly. "Pick something else, or get lost."
Just as the book described—his temperament was as unpredictable as the weather, flipping moods faster than pages.
But as long as the price was cheap enough, Wen Shuangbai didn’t care about service quality.
Especially when it was free.
She obliged amiably. "Fine. Then divine my luck for the next few days."
The stall owner snorted, producing an ink-black tortoise shell.
He murmured an incantation, and golden spiritual threads flickered across the shell’s surface.
After a moment, his eyes lit up with glee. "Fellow cultivator, this reading is extremely ominous!"
Wen Shuangbai: "Oh? How ominous?"
Propping his chin on his hands, he blinked mischievously and declared, "Signs of financial loss—and a blood calamity."
Wen Shuangbai remained unshaken, nodding calmly. "I see."
She didn’t believe a word.
Because the man before her was Shen Hefeng—just like her, a villain from the book.
Shen Hefeng had a terrible reputation. His divinations were accurate, but whether he told the truth depended entirely on his mood.
Disappointed by her lack of fear, Shen Hefeng pouted and began packing up.
Just then, Wen Shuangbai spoke. "Brother Shen."
His hands stilled. His gaze turned sharp. "You know me?"
Wen Shuangbai: "I do."
She’d known all along and pretended otherwise.
Shen Hefeng was furious. "You were toying with me?"
"I don’t have time for games." Wen Shuangbai felt she’d wasted enough time here and cut to the chase. "But I’d like to offer you a favor."
Shen Hefeng scoffed. "You?"
"Rumors say traces of the Divine Wood Talisman have appeared in the Daoyi Secret Realm. I hear many Sky-Questioning Pavilion disciples have already left." She met his eyes. "I assume you’re heading there tonight. But I can tell you—"
"The Divine Wood Talisman isn’t in Daoyi. It’s in Ningyuan Mountain."
Shen Hefeng was the eternal second-best in the Sky-Questioning Pavilion, forever overshadowed by Yu Xiaoxiao’s loyal follower.
With the competition a month away, Yu Xiaoxiao—a sword cultivator—would soon depart for Ningyuan Mountain to seek her destined sword, hoping to excel in the trials.
In the book, her devoted admirer abandoned the Daoyi Secret Realm to accompany her, fearing for her safety. Yet by sheer luck, he obtained the Divine Wood Talisman in Ningyuan Mountain instead.
After careful consideration, Wen Shuangbai concluded that if she wanted to win the 30,000 spirit stone prize, the talisman couldn’t fall into Yu Xiaoxiao’s faction.
And the only person capable of competing with the protagonists for it was Shen Hefeng.
She didn’t know if he’d heed her advice and change course.
But she’d done all she could—the rest was up to fate.
Even if she failed this time, there would be other chances.
Wen Shuangbai returned to her quarters in high spirits and resumed her artifact forging as usual.
This commission was for "Thousand Leaf Blades," a rare concealed weapon on the Xuantian Continent. Resembling a flower, its petals were sharp blades that could fly unseen to strike lethally.
If coated in poison, its deadliness multiplied.
At her current level, Wen Shuangbai could only craft a seventh-grade version—seven blades at most.
Even so, the task was far from simple.
The Thousand Leaf Blades were among the most challenging artifacts in the Hundred Artifacts Compendium, requiring immense patience, precision, and spiritual control.
A fraction too much fire-attribute spiritual energy would make the blades brittle; a fraction too little would leave them too soft.
On the first day, after twelve straight hours of forging, all 113 attempts ended in failure.
Wen Shuangbai was grateful she could recycle materials—otherwise, the cost alone would’ve bankrupted her.
Midway, her junior sister burst in, gasping, "Second Senior Sister, you’re bleeding from all seven orifices!"
Wen Shuangbai blinked dazedly. "Am I?"
No wonder everything looked crimson. She’d thought it was just exhaustion.
Yet her hands continued channeling spiritual energy without pause, her gaze still fixed on the tiny leaf enveloped within the glowing aura.
Wen Shuangbai said, "It's fine. I feel like I'm close to succeeding."
Her junior sister opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated before turning to fetch a clean towel. With practiced ease, she wiped the blood from Wen Shuangbai's face, even standing on tiptoe to stuff paper wads into her nostrils as a precaution. "Then I'll leave you to it, Senior Sister," she said obediently. "I'll go rest now. Call me if you need anything."
Wen Shuangbai nodded. "Mm, alright."
Her intuition wasn’t wrong. After hundreds of failed attempts, Wen Shuangbai finally grasped the technique for crafting the 'Thousand-Leaf Blade.'
A faint, blood-streaked smile curved her lips as she painstakingly shaped one leaf every two hours—agonizingly slow progress. But as time passed, her movements grew swifter.
Another day drew to a close.
Late at night, silence blanketed the world.
Seven blazing crimson flames hovered midair, each cradling an exquisitely crafted leaf.
Wen Shuangbai had reached the final step.
Guided by her spiritual energy, the seven leaves began converging, destined to merge into a single blossom.
Yet the leaves resisted, trembling violently as they repelled one another.
Her gaze softened, her movements delicate and deliberate.
But just as success seemed within reach—
A violent surge of energy clashed within her meridians. An inexplicable heat erupted inside her, and with a choked gasp, she vomited a mouthful of black blood.
The blood splattered onto the leaves.
The delicate fusion was disrupted.
In an instant, the seven leaves shot outward in chaotic directions, completely out of control.
Whoosh—Bang—Crash—Whoosh—Boom—Thudthudthud!
In the blink of an eye, the entire courtyard was reduced to rubble.
As darkness swallowed her consciousness, Wen Shuangbai stared at the swirling dust with one final thought:
I’m done for. The house is gone. This is going to cost a fortune.
A financial disaster!!!
She didn’t remain unconscious for long—voices discussing money soon dragged her back to awareness.
"...Senior Brother Xie, what’s wrong with my second senior sister? Is she alright?"
"What did she eat?"
"Second Senior Sister didn’t eat anything today."
"Then it must’ve been yesterday."
"...I don’t know. She had the same meals as me... When will she wake up? Senior Brother Xie, please save her..."
"She won’t die. If you want her awake now, two True Essence Pills—two hundred spirit stones. Will you pay?"
"Yes! But... can we owe it for now? Our eldest senior brother will repay you later—"
"Cough—cough—No—" Wen Shuangbai forced her eyes open, her voice frail but resolute. "...Don’t... use them!"
"Second Senior Sister, you’re awake!" Her dust-streaked junior sister rushed over joyfully.
Once conscious, Wen Shuangbai realized she felt remarkably better—light-bodied, brimming with energy.
She sat up on the medical cot and immediately repeated, "Junior Sister, no medicine!"
The junior sister fretted. "But... are you really okay?"
"I’m fine," Wen Shuangbai insisted. "I just overexerted myself crafting artifacts. A short rest is all I need."
A soft scoff cut through the air.
Wen Shuangbai glanced up to see Xie Ziyin standing nearby, his expression dripping with disdain.
Overexertion from crafting?
More like overindulgence in pills.
But a patient’s condition was their own business. If she wanted to lie, so be it.
Xie Ziyin only said coldly, "If you’re awake, leave."
Wen Shuangbai scanned her surroundings and realized she was in the medical hall.
Expressionless, she swung her legs off the bed and grabbed her junior sister’s hand. "Let’s go."
"Wait." Xie Ziyin’s voice halted them. "Payment. Twenty."
Wen Shuangbai nearly laughed in outrage. "For what? I didn’t take any medicine."
Xie Ziyin remained unmoved. "Night consultation fee. Twenty."
"You glanced at me and that’s worth twenty?" she snapped.
He lifted an eyebrow, silent, but his eyes spoke volumes.
Yes.
He was absolutely worth it.
After all, in modern terms, Dr. Xie’s expert consultation fee would be 150 a pop.
