“Pfft—”
A clear, crisp laugh sounded from the side.
Hearing this, Ning Rongrong couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer.
She stood to the side of the stall, holding several large and small bags, staring at the wooden signboard inscribed with the eight large characters “Foresight Like a God, Knowing the Future Before It Happens” for several seconds.
Then she looked at the honest-looking man kneeling on the ground, and finally at the young man sitting upright within, putting on the airs of a lofty master.
How to put it?
A scam this obviously fake wouldn’t even fool a beggar if set up outside the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
She glided gracefully to the front of the stall and, right in front of the fortune-teller, spoke bluntly to the honest customer:
“How can you be so foolish?”
The honest man was stunned.
Ning Rongrong tilted her head, her tone utterly sincere: “I’ve only ever heard of men being afraid others might steal their wives.
This is the first time I’ve seen someone actively pushing his own wife toward another man and begging to become his disciple.
Aren’t you afraid your wife will be pregnant again before long?”
As her words landed.
The air fell silent for a moment.
“You—”
The honest man’s face flushed crimson.
He sprang to his feet and shoved Ning Rongrong, making her stagger.
“Who are you?!” His voice rose three octaves.
“I’m warning you, you don’t know my situation, so don’t meddle in other people’s business!
Don’t ruin my good fortune!”
He turned and pointed at Yang Xing, his face filled with reverence.
“Do you even understand what kind of divine person Master Yang is?
Several times before, my own fortune-telling sessions were spot-on!
Who are you?
Don’t anger Master Yang, or I won’t be polite with you!”
Ning Rongrong stumbled a step before regaining her balance.
She looked down at the wrinkled sleeve of her white dress where she had been pushed, her face darkening.
She, the esteemed young lady of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
From birth until now, not to mention being pushed, there were scarcely any who dared raise their voice when speaking to her.
And now she had been shoved by an ordinary person who wasn’t even a Soul Master.
And been looked down upon.
She knew that right now, with just one wrong look from her, this fellow would be carried back home horizontally today.
But then she remembered the smile she had practiced thirty-seven times in front of the mirror before leaving.
Shrek Academy.
The ladylike persona.
Gentle and gracious.
She endured it.
Ning Rongrong shot a fierce glare at Yang Xing, who was sitting there watching the scene with an amused smile, then turned to the honest man, her tone suppressing her anger but still somewhat patient:
“I’m trying to help you!
How can you fail to recognize a good heart?”
She pointed her finger right at Yang Xing’s nose.
“This guy is obviously a fraud!
And you believe it was his guidance about some ridiculous position that got your wife pregnant?
What kind of foretelling the future is that in this world?
Even the Titled Douluos I’ve met don’t have that kind of ability!
If you got your wife pregnant in three months, that was definitely your own doing!”
The more Ning Rongrong spoke, the more convinced she became, wearing an expression that said “I’ve seen it all, you’re all fools”:
“I’ve seen plenty of these frauds.
They just use smooth talk to send you back to try your luck.
If your luck is good, they take the credit.
If it’s bad, they’re long gone.”
Having said this, Ning Rongrong lifted her chin, waiting for the scene where the honest man would have a sudden awakening and shower her with tearful gratitude.
What she got instead was an old farmer.
“Make way—”
An old man in a coarse cloth short jacket squeezed through the crowd, his face creased into a beaming smile, and pushed Ning Rongrong aside as he rushed toward Yang Xing’s stall.
“Master!
Master!” The old farmer’s voice trembled with excitement.
“You truly have divine foresight!
I really found a large pouch of Gold Spirit Coins right where you said—two steps left, three steps right, and five steps forward from the corner behind my back door!
It solved my child’s tuition problem!”
The old farmer was about to kneel down.
“I want to become your disciple and serve you for the rest of my life—”
Yang Xing glanced at Ning Rongrong with a faint smile.
That glance carried a hint of pride, a touch of innocence, and a clear message of “What were you saying just now?”
Then, with unshakable composure, he waved his hand.
“Ah—no, no.
That pouch of Gold Spirit Coins you found was always destined to be yours in this lifetime.
This humble Daoist merely guided you to obtain it earlier.
It was always your own fortune—no need for such grand gestures.
Besides, I only accept those with a predestined connection as disciples.
You may go now, good sir.”
Ning Rongrong’s eyes widened.
Beside her, the honest-looking man turned to her at just the right moment and spread his hands.
“Young lady, what more do you have to say?
The Master has helped more than just me.” He pointed at the old farmer.
“This gentleman here also received the Master’s help, right?”
The old farmer nodded repeatedly, clasping his hands together and bowing repeatedly toward Yang Xing.
“It’s all thanks to the Master, truly all thanks to him.
My son now has the money to attend a Soul Master academy—the Master is practically a living deity—”
Yang Xing narrowed his eyes in Ning Rongrong’s direction, the corners of his lips curling upward slightly as he slowly waved his hand again.
The gesture looked unmistakably like a provocation.
Ning Rongrong felt her anger surge, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.
She pointed at the old farmer.
“That pouch of Gold Spirit Coins must have been buried there by him too!
To deceive you—”
“Ah.”
Yang Xing spoke up.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut in precisely halfway through Ning Rongrong’s sentence, effortlessly deflecting her accusation.
“Young lady.” Yang Xing looked at her calmly, his tone even carrying a hint of tolerance.
“If you say other matters were just my guesses, I won’t argue with you.
After all, you don’t understand—ignorance is no crime.”
He paused.
“But when you accuse me of burying Gold Spirit Coins to deceive this elderly gentleman, that I cannot tolerate.”
Ning Rongrong tilted her head.
“Why?”
Yang Xing smiled.
The smile was utterly open, utterly sincere, even carrying a trace of self-mocking ease—
“Because I charge only one Copper Soul Coin for each divination.”
He raised an index finger and wagged it in front of Ning Rongrong.
“One.
Copper Soul Coin.”
“How could I possibly bury an entire pouch of Gold Spirit Coins for this elderly gentleman, all for the sake of earning just one Copper Soul Coin?”
“Young lady, do I look like someone who would make such a loss-making deal?”
After speaking, he deliberately glanced at the old farmer.
The old farmer slowly nodded at Ning Rongrong.
“It’s true.
The Master only charged me one Copper Soul Coin.”
Ning Rongrong opened her mouth, stunned, momentarily at a loss for words.
Her mind raced.
One Copper Soul Coin for a divination, versus the cost of an entire pouch of Gold Spirit Coins—the math indeed showed a clear loss.
But she still didn’t believe it.
“Hmph.” Ning Rongrong lifted her chin again, her willow-like brows knitting into an elegant knot, her tone firm.
“You might not necessarily be after money—you could be after fame.
By giving this old man a Gold Spirit Coin, he’ll spread the word everywhere for you.
Soon, everyone in Suotuo City will come to you for fortune-telling, and won’t you earn it all back then?
Losing money to gain reputation—I’ve seen plenty of this kind of trick in Tiandou City.”
After speaking, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, adopting a posture that seemed to say, “Let’s see how you explain this.”
Yang Xing didn’t move.
Leaning back in his chair, the cattail-leaf fan resting on his knees, he squinted at Ning Rongrong for two seconds, then smiled.
“Miss,” he extended a finger and wagged it leisurely, “have you ever done the math?”
“One Gold Spirit Coin equals ten thousand Copper Soul Coins.
My fee for one fortune-telling session is one Copper Soul Coin.
If I were to lose money to gain reputation as you say, I’d have to tell fortunes tens of thousands of times just to break even.”
He tilted his head, his tone utterly sincere.
“Suotuo City only has so many people.
Whether ten thousand people would even be willing to come to me for fortune-telling is still up for debate.”
“Do I look like the kind of person who’d stake such a huge investment on an uncertain outcome?”
Ning Rongrong’s lips twitched.
She wanted to say more, her pretty brows furrowing even tighter.
Reason told her the whole situation was inexplicably strange.
Those seeking children, those seeking wealth—they all seemed like characters straight out of a storybook.
And this young fortune-teller before her, whose looks were neither particularly handsome nor ugly, whose features were perfectly ordinary, had “fraud” written all over him.
Yet she couldn’t find the needle to burst his bubble.
Because her thinking had been boxed in from the start.
Yang Xing was a fraud, and those two were victims.
She couldn’t conceive of a third possibility.
Yang Xing watched Ning Rongrong’s expression—clearly unable to swallow her anger yet having nowhere to vent it—and understood perfectly.
Ten years of experience in recruiting disciples had taught him to see right through people.
That was why he had tailored this disciple-recruitment feast specifically for Ning Rongrong.
Of course, at this point, the chips he had accumulated weren’t enough to successfully recruit her yet.
For a pampered young lady like her, the more you begged, the more she’d look down on you.
You had to do the opposite.
Once enough chips were accumulated…
He’d add one final, heavy bet!
He yawned, waved his cattail-leaf fan, and leaned back in his chair.
“Alright, alright, if there’s nothing else, you can all disperse.” He waved dismissively at Ning Rongrong, his tone casual as if shooing away flies.
“And you, young miss, if you’re not here for fortune-telling, you should leave too.
This humble Daoist should pack up his stall.”