Sure enough.
Ning Rongrong’s eyes immediately narrowed.
In her life, there were two words she absolutely couldn’t stand—being ignored.
If you argued with her, she thought it was normal.
If you knelt before her, she thought it was expected.
But if you treated her like air?
Thud.
A delicate gold-threaded silk pouch was slammed heavily onto the fortune-telling table, emitting a dull, weighty sound.
Ning Rongrong arched her willow-like brows, a playful smirk curling at the corner of her lips as she raised her voice crisply:
“I have business.
Since you’re so skilled, Master, how about telling my fortune too?”
Yang Xing raised an eyebrow.
Unhurriedly, he reached out, took the gold-threaded silk pouch, loosened the drawstring, and peeked inside.
Gold Spirit Coins.
A full pouch.
He glanced for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Ning Rongrong, half-questioning, half-stating: “It seems the young lady comes from a wealthy family.” He paused.
“I recall you mentioned Titled Douluo earlier?”
Hearing him bring this up, a trace of pride finally surfaced on Ning Rongrong’s delicate face.
She crossed her arms, straightened her back, lifted her chin slightly, and looked at him with full mockery:
“Are you scared now, Master?”
Yang Xing chuckled and shook his head.
He pinched out a single Gold Spirit Coin from the pouch, deftly retied the drawstring, and pushed the pouch back toward Ning Rongrong.
“Not scared.
It’s just that the young lady has given too much—I can’t make change.”
He held up the Gold Spirit Coin between his fingers, twirling it.
“Since the young lady is from a wealthy family, I’ll accept just one Gold Spirit Coin.
In return, I’ll answer a few more questions for you, ensuring you get your coin’s worth.”
Ning Rongrong snorted with laughter, not even bothering to hide her disdain.
“Then I hope you keep your word, Master.”
Her eyes fixed on Yang Xing, a hint of chill seeping through her gentle demeanor.
“Otherwise, this young lady isn’t someone you can easily fool.”
Yang Xing naturally sensed the sharpness in her words.
But his expression remained unchanged.
He picked up his cattail-leaf fan, leaned back in his chair, and assumed an overly relaxed posture.
“Go ahead, what would you like me to divine?
One Gold Spirit Coin is enough for me to reveal quite a few heavenly secrets.”
Seeing his attitude, Ning Rongrong felt a surge of anger shoot straight to the top of her head.
She maintained a dignified and composed expression on the surface, but her teeth were already itching with irritation.
“Fine.”
She took a deep breath and began—
“Since you’re so skilled, Master, then help me divine: What is my name?
How old am I?
What is my status?
What are my hobbies?
What is my background?
Why have I come here—”
Her words spilled out faster and faster, one after another.
“What is my father’s name?
What does my father do—”
Finally, she stopped, tilting her head to look at Yang Xing, her playful and adorable pose laced with obvious provocation.
“And also, divine what I’ll do to you if you can’t figure it out—or if you get it wrong.”
She curved her eyes into a smile.
“Guess what this young lady will do to you?”
With that, Ning Rongrong crossed her arms, waiting confidently.
The twelve-year-old girl was certain the other party wouldn’t be able to answer.
One second.
Two seconds.
Yang Xing didn’t respond immediately.
Ning Rongrong’s smile deepened.
She was already planning in her mind how to deal with this fraud once he failed to answer—
Then she saw Yang Xing raise his right hand.
His index and middle fingers pressed together, lightly pinching the air.
He made a divining gesture.
So pretentious.
Extremely pretentious.
But then, he spoke.
His tone was flat, as if reciting a menu.
“Young lady’s surname is Ning, given name Rongrong.
Age twelve.”
Ning Rongrong’s smile froze.
“As for identity, daughter of Ning Fengzhi, Sect Master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.”
At this point, Yang Xing deliberately paused.
He adopted a perfectly measured expression of surprise, the fanning of his palm-leaf fan halted for half a beat.
His voice lowered intentionally, taking on a grave tone.
“The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect…
hoh.”
Then he continued.
Under Ning Rongrong’s wide-eyed, stunned gaze, he droned on as if chanting scriptures—
“Hobbies, mischief.
Though a Support System Spirit Master, always wants to be an Attack System.
Background: one of the three great sects under heaven, the only one truly wealthy beyond measure—the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.”
Ning Rongrong’s breathing noticeably quickened.
“Purpose for coming here: to enroll in a certain academy called Shrek…
hmm, a no-name academy.”
When he said “no-name,” he even gave a slight nod, his expression one of complete agreement.
“Your esteemed father, Ning Fengzhi, the current Sect Master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
If I haven’t miscalculated, without you needing to order it, those things your father gave you—”
“Enough!”
Ning Rongrong abruptly cut him off.
Her face darkened.
Completely darkened.
Because she could already feel the gazes of the onlooking passersby, landing on her one by one.
Her identity, her sect, her father’s name—
Having these things loudly announced by a fortune-teller in a public place was equivalent to being stripped bare.
Ning Rongrong took a deep breath.
The gentle, proper demeanor she had maintained earlier on her face was now utterly gone.
Replacing it was a cold, scrutinizing gravity, like that of a predator eyeing its prey.
She stared fixedly at Yang Xing.
“You know me.”
Not a question, but a statement.
Yang Xing shook his head.
“Or—” Ning Rongrong lowered her voice, her exquisite little face leaning close to the table, her waistline tilting forward, almost pressing right up to Yang Xing.
As she spoke, a faint fragrance accompanied her words, but the uttered phrases were wrapped in chill.
“My father sent you.”
Yang Xing still shook his head.
He continued to squint mysteriously, his smile undiminished.
“I truly figured it out myself.
Miss Ning Rongrong, if you really don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do.”
His tone even carried a hint of helplessness.
The kind of helplessness that was truly infuriating.
Ning Rongrong’s pupils contracted slightly.
She completely withdrew all her playfulness and naivety; her entire aura changed in that instant.
The twelve-year-old girl now revealed the side of herself that everyone in the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect and Tiandou City called the “Little Devil.”
“Then there’s only one possibility left.”
Her voice was extremely soft and low, confined to a range only the two of them could hear.
“You are a scheming villain who has been waiting here for me.”
She stared into Yang Xing’s eyes, enunciating each word clearly: “Admit it now, and I can pretend nothing happened.”
A pause for a beat.
“Otherwise, don’t blame this young lady for being impolite.”
The exquisite smiling face up close radiated genuine, palpable coldness.
Yang Xing felt it.
To be honest, Ning Rongrong’s guess was spot on.
He was indeed a scheming villain who had been waiting here for her.
But so what?
Whether this reaction stemmed from Ning Rongrong’s genuine cleverness in discerning the truth or was mixed with a desire to flip the board in frustration—
The bargaining chips Yang Xing wanted had already been accumulated.
His expression remained unchanged, calm as usual, and he even had the leisure to appreciate the close-up view of this truly good-looking face.
Then, instead of answering, he asked a question in return.
“Then, Miss Ning Rongrong, what would make you believe that I’m not a fraud?”
The palm-leaf fan swayed gently.
“Or rather, how can I prove that I haven’t deceived you?”
Ning Rongrong’s gaze turned completely cold.
In the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, in Tiandou City, she was known by everyone as the “Little Demoness.” Those who provoked her never met a good end.
She was about to speak.
But Yang Xing beat her to it.
His tone remained as calm as ever, as if commenting on the pleasant weather:
“Or rather—”
“What if I told you that I know how to turn the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda into the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda.”