Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Chapter 512 Under the Candlelight

Shen Anzhi remained unmoved by the sword blade held against his neck.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on the tip of the sword. This bladeless sword had finally gained its edge.

He reached out and picked up the calligraphy written by Zhu Wuyao. The paper fluttered, revealing four characters in ink. Shen Anzhi didn't answer but asked instead:

"When you threw that coin away back then, you said you 'didn't know your fate,' so how come you say you 'know your fate and are not afraid' today?"

"Because I wasn't that lucky."

Zhu Wuyao replied coldly.

"Not knowing one's fate" is a kind of luck; it's about naively believing in the sword in one's hand and believing that miracles will happen. Without knowing, there is no fear.

However, she was a diviner, and even with her eyes and ears closed, she could always perceive the trajectory of destiny. Yet all her efforts were in vain.

If one knows that the general trend is irreversible and destiny cannot be defied, how can one not be afraid?

"I've come here to make a bet with you."

What if I refuse?

"You're already unable to refuse now that you're waiting here."

When Zi Zhu Wuyao glimpsed Shen Anzhi's future visit through the bright candle, an undeniable sense of crisis lingered in her heart, but the scene displayed by Wujinxiang still made her wait here.

She wanted to know what had happened to Shen Anzhi.

Therefore, when Shen Anzhi stood in front of the courtyard gate, she immediately used "Endless Form" to try to determine whether he was friend or foe.

It was at this moment that her barely perceptible worry for Shen Anzhi shattered instantly.

When she realized that Shen Xun's opportunity had been stolen, when she sensed the blood aura surrounding Shen Anzhi, when she learned that this person had advanced to the Nascent Soul stage, when Shen Anzhi revealed the object of her destiny...

She was finally absolutely certain—

This sense of crisis, which directly addresses his own situation, comes from Shen Anzhi.

Furthermore, the spirit pen whispered a reminder in my divine consciousness:

"He's dangerous, he's my nemesis."

Zhu Wuyao knew that Shen Anzhi had some unusual qualities, but she never expected that it would make Lingbi so wary.

Zhu Wuyao is now lacking in everything.

Her cultivation level was at the Great Perfection of the Golden Core stage, her Sky-Gazing Technique was close to the pinnacle but not quite there yet, she had not fully comprehended the final level of the Falling Leaf Sword Technique, her life-altering treasure had been revealed, and even her eyesight was inferior.

Therefore, Zhu Wuyao could not discern whether, when Shen Anzhi announced "Let's make a bet," she felt more hatred, anger, or confusion, or... a sense of luck.

Zhu Wuyao didn't back down then, but now he can't leave.

The past and old friends are like shackles, and she is the one bound by them.

The future that "Endless Forms" had unfolded before his mind surfaced. The news of Li Chengguan's death, the panicked people in the city, the displaced Mingzhu... Zhu Wuyao gripped the Wufeng Sword tightly, and in the next instant, the sword's light dissipated with the wind.

She slowly lowered her arms to her sides, her hard nails leaving marks in her palms.

Finally, he smiled and said:

"I'm a recluse with nowhere to call home, so what's wrong with taking a gamble with you here?"

Before Zhu Wuyao could finish her thought, Shen Anzhi had already set the tea table back up. Hearing this, he held up his cup and smiled:

"Junior Sister Zhu, are you perhaps plotting how to kill me?"

Zhu Wuyao shook his head seriously.

“You have shown me kindness and saved my life. As long as I do not kill innocent people, even if you want my life, I will still have to consider our past relationship.”

Some word caused Shen Anzhi to pause almost imperceptibly in his teacup.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Regardless of what Zhu Wuyao thinks.

In short, this small courtyard now has a second resident with poor eyesight.

Since Shen Anzhi moved in, she rarely stayed at home. She always carried a flag and went out to set up a fortune-telling stall, leaving early and returning late, as if she was deliberately avoiding him.

It was as if he was deliberately avoiding the betting game when it was pointed out.

"Is the fortune teller here again?"

In the past few days, Zhu Wuyao had become familiar with everyone, so he wasn't angry when he heard these teasing words. He just smiled and nodded.

Although the price is cheap.

But many people know that this so-called "fortune teller" was recently arrested by Lord Su for theft.

Therefore, no one wanted to have their fortune told by her.

Zhu Wuyao is not in a hurry.

Although she set up her fortune-telling stall with a bit of wishful thinking, hoping to earn back her "destined possession," it was something that could only be encountered by chance.

If the time isn't right, even if she consults the oracle a hundred times a day, she still won't find the right person in a hundred years.

If fate brings them together, even if she doesn't want it, the destined item will still appear before her.

She is blind.

Being blind, he naturally couldn't see the ridicule and contempt in other people's eyes, and continued to set up his stall as always.

Fortunately, she was blind, and the people of Changxiao Town were simple and honest. No matter what their true intentions were, they couldn't very well make things difficult for her in public.

The sound of storytelling from not far away reached my ears, every word audible.

"Chen Ke was unaware of his own extraordinary abilities, unaware that the visitors were all high-ranking and powerful figures in the cultivation world, and how could he possibly know just how valuable that small bottle of pills he had given away was!"

"Giving it away casually has now brought trouble."

"...At the critical moment, a furious roar came from beyond the heavens. Tianxiangzi, wielding his spiritual power, rushed to pay his respects to Chen Ke—'How dare you, a petty scoundrel, offend my savior, Tianxiangzi!'"

This is a book written by Zhu Wuyao, so of course she knows what happens next.

He shook his head, packed up his stall, and went home.

Among the listeners, someone chatted with their friend beside them:

"Do you think it's possible that cultivators, like Chen Ke, aren't actually that powerful, and we've just mentally 'Chen Ke-ized' them?"

"Then go and curse at Li Chengguan and see if she kicks you! Hey, why are you thinking such useless things? If I were Chen Ke, and I knew my own abilities, I would definitely make up a fake identity for myself and go around scamming people from various sects!"

The speaker has no intention, the listener has the heart.

Among the crowd, a man named Lu Youqi had a sudden thought—why couldn't he be Chen Ke?

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Walk to a secluded, deserted place.

Zhu Wuyao put the odds and ends into his storage bag, and carrying only the flag, slowly walked home.

"Since leaving the secret realm, my cultivation has made no progress and has stagnated for a long time."

Lingbi sighed and said:

"I told you long ago, your path of cultivation has come to an end!"

"To advance, you need to undergo a Heavenly Tribulation. If Heaven does not send a Nascent Soul Heavenly Tribulation for you, it means it will not allow you to enter the Nascent Soul stage, and you will not be able to overcome this hurdle."

"If Shen Anzhi wants my life, I can't even outrun him."

Lingbi realized the seriousness of the problem and, after thinking for a moment, said:

"Steal the purple energy! Seize the opportunity! Disrupt his mind! Find a way to pull him down from the Nascent Soul stage, and then beat him up!"

“Shen Anzhi can directly see the cause-and-effect relationship. Whoever plots against him has a karmic connection with him, and he can know it beforehand.”

They chatted idly for a while.

Zhu Wuyao walked to the outskirts of Changxiao Town, where her residence was not far ahead.

She walked forward, suddenly frowned, and then immediately activated her escape technique.

In the blink of an eye, they arrived at the courtyard gate.

He reached out and pushed open the courtyard gate.

In the candlelight, Shen Anzhi, holding a brush dipped in ink, was diligently teaching Mingzhu to read. Hearing the door open, he looked up and smiled:

“The neighbor’s child came looking for you, but you weren’t there. I happened to be free, so I chatted with her for a bit.”