The air froze.
Ning Rongrong’s pupils contracted sharply.
“Liar, do you know what you’re saying?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but each word seemed to carry shards of ice.
The layer of carefully maintained gentleness and grace on her face shattered completely the moment those words landed.
Replacing it was a chilling coldness she herself hadn’t even realized was there.
Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda transforming into Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda.
To others, these seven words might just be an empty boast.
But to Ning Rongrong, this was her father Ning Fengzhi’s lifelong obsession, the ultimate pursuit that generations of sect masters in the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect had strived for over a thousand years, giving their all until death.
It was an obsession carved into her bones from the day she awakened her Innate Level Nine Spirit Power at age six.
Something the entire sect had failed to achieve in a thousand years.
Was now casually uttered by this roadside stall vendor in a light, offhand tone.
As if he were commenting on the nice weather.
Ning Rongrong narrowed her eyes, staring at Yang Xing.
She narrowed her eyes when angry, but those eyes remained excessively beautiful, like two crescent moons covered in frost.
Yang Xing mentally gave himself a thumbs-up.
Beautiful, truly beautiful.
This fierce, milk-threatening look was much more pleasing to the eye than her earlier feigned gentleness.
Truly worthy of being system-certified super looks—even anger was a sight to behold.
The matter of taking a disciple was looking a bit more stable.
But on the surface, he remained unmoved.
The palm-leaf fan still swayed idly in his hand, his body still leaned against the chair back.
He slightly lifted his eyelids, looking at Ning Rongrong with a gaze bordering on tolerant calm.
“This humble Daoist naturally knows what he’s saying.”
His tone was firm.
He paused for a beat, tilting his head to look at Ning Rongrong with a faint, ambiguous smile.
“Or is it that Miss Ning Rongrong doesn’t understand this humble Daoist’s words?”
Ning Rongrong’s expression darkened further in that instant.
She didn’t speak immediately.
The air remained quiet for three seconds.
Yang Xing keenly caught the dangerous signal in this silence.
He knew Ning Rongrong was likely wavering between two options right now.
One, continue speaking with him.
Two, directly summon the hidden guards to deal with him.
He had to bet she’d choose option one.
Take a gamble, turn a bicycle into a motorcycle.
Yang Xing maintained his outward composure, but internally he was wound tight as a string.
Fortunately, after ten years of acting, his face and acting skills had long surpassed human limits.
Ning Rongrong looked him up and down.
Her gaze practically scraped across his face inch by inch, filled with scrutiny and speculation.
Finally—
She spoke.
“Do you know the consequences of deceiving this young lady with this?”
Ning Rongrong’s voice had regained its calm, but that calm was more chilling than anger.
“If you retract those words now, this young lady will consider you not in your right mind and not hold it against you.”
She paused.
“If you insist on deceiving this young lady with this matter—”
The young girl tilted her head, revealing a very sweet smile.
“This young lady guarantees that within the entire Heaven Dou Empire, you’ll find no path to heaven and no door to earth.”
After hearing this, Yang Xing steeled his heart.
He only had ten days left in his life.
After ten days, he’d either become a Titled Douluo or the system would abandon him and he’d return to being trash.
Either way, it was a dead end—what was there to fear from threats?
So he smiled.
It wasn’t the profound, mysterious smile from before.
He suddenly threw his head back and laughed heartily.
The laughter echoed before the stall, drawing sidelong glances from several passersby.
Ning Rongrong was completely bewildered by his sudden outburst, her willow-leaf eyebrows knitting into a tight knot.
Yang Xing laughed his fill, then lowered his head to look at Ning Rongrong, his tone carrying a mix of helplessness and amusement.
“Miss Ning Rongrong, have you perhaps misunderstood?”
He waved his hand dismissively.
“When I said I know how to turn the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda into the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda, I was merely citing it as proof of my abilities.”
He raised a finger and wagged it in front of him.
“This,” he said, “is not included in the service covered by your one Gold Spirit Coin.”
Ning Rongrong was stunned.
Yang Xing continued, his tone light and airy: “Whether you care if it’s true or false, what does that have to do with me?
Rest assured—”
He stood up and began to pack away the sign that read “Foresight Like a God.”
“—I won’t be telling you anyway.”
Ning Rongrong’s expression changed instantly.
“You—”
The word “you” escaped her lips, but the rest of the sentence got stuck in her throat.
Yang Xing gave her no chance to continue.
He deftly began dismantling the stall, speaking as he worked: “The one Gold Spirit Coin service is complete, Miss Ning.
This humble Daoist has reached his divination quota for the day and is closing shop.”
He didn’t even turn his head.
“Take care on your way, Miss Ning.”
Ning Rongrong stood rooted to the spot, her expression changing four times within three seconds.
Bewilderment, anger, resentment, hesitation.
She watched helplessly as Yang Xing, with his back to her, stuffed the items on the table one by one into his bundle.
Once his back was turned, Yang Xing deliberately slowed down every movement threefold.
Slowly folding the cloth, slowly putting away the brush.
A fine layer of sweat seeped into his palms.
He was gambling.
In his scenario, Ning Rongrong taking an interest in this question and pressing further was the situation with the lowest risk and the greatest reward.
If Ning Rongrong turned and left now, there would surely be chances to lure her back later, but that would introduce far too many variables.
At most within a day or two, every word of today’s conversation here would be faithfully reported to Ning Fengzhi, thousands of miles away.
By then, the one seeking him out might no longer be this little loli who could be both cute and fierce, but rather the Sword Douluo, the Bone Douluo, or even Ning Fengzhi himself.
Then he would truly have to reincarnate and start over.
Call me back.
Hurry up.
Yang Xing chanted silently in his heart.
One second.
Two seconds.
Thr—
“Stop.”
Ning Rongrong’s voice came from behind him.
A mental explosion went off in Yang Xing’s heart—
Secured!
But his physical reaction was flawless.
His movements paused slightly, as if somewhat surprised, before he slowly turned around.
A perfectly measured look of confusion was plastered on his face.
“Hmm?
Does Miss Ning have further business?”
He blinked.
“Did you find this humble Daoist’s previous service insufficient?”
Looking at Yang Xing’s expression—clearly deliberate yet feigning ignorance—Ning Rongrong felt her teeth itch so badly she could grind sparks from them.
She strongly suspected this man was doing it on purpose.
But she held back.
Because uncontrollable images flashed through her mind…
That old farmer really did find the Gold Spirit Coins.
That old man’s wife really was pregnant.
This person really did recite all her information in one breath, even knowing secrets she had never told anyone, like her desire to become an Attack System Spirit Master.
What if…
What if it were true?
What if he really knew how to turn the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda into the Nine Treasure one?
This “what if” was like a thorn stuck in her heart, impossible to pull out.
Ning Rongrong gritted her teeth.
Thump.
The golden silk pouch was slapped onto the table for the second time.
“The method to evolve the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda into the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda,” she stared into Yang Xing’s eyes, “how many Spirit Coins?”
Yang Xing was already doing somersaults of joy in his heart.
But on his face, he showed a troubled expression.
He shook his head, his tone as calm and breezy as ever, yet carrying a hint of helplessness.
“Miss Ning, this problem cannot be solved with Gold Spirit Coins.”