"Sir, this mansion is so nice, how could there be a problem? Please don't make random accusations!" The dark-skinned young man protested miserably, seeing the deal about to go through—only for someone to suddenly jump out and cause trouble. His mood was easy to imagine.
The old man sneered, "Heh, I'm not making random accusations. I have solid evidence. Based on my observation and calculations, this is a cursed house—whoever lives here dies!"
Evan Yang looked at the old man with absolute reverence. "No doubts at all, sir—how could I ever doubt you? By the way, could you help guide me out of my confusion?"
"What? Not convinced? Then let me ask you: wasn't the previous owner of this mansion killed?" the old man pressed.
Evan Yang didn't dare argue. "Yes, yes, Master Heaven-Secrets, you're absolutely right. But that's truly all the authority I have. How about this: let's go back to the brokerage, and I'll report to my manager—maybe we can get a bigger discount!"
"Heh, you don't believe me? Then I'll give you a free reading!" As he spoke, the old man quickly formed hand seals. After a moment, he continued, "Kid, your current name is Paul Wu, but your real name is Evan Yang, isn't it?"
For a moment, Evan Yang's face was utterly shocked. He hadn't used the name Evan Yang in hundreds of years, and almost no one in the capital knew it.
Before he could speak, the old man went on, "You lost your father at three, your mother at five, became a beggar at six, and at eight were taken as a disciple by a rogue cultivator. Sadly, that master only taught you for ten years before being killed. You became a rootless wanderer again, changed your name to Paul Wu to avoid your master's enemies, drifted through the jianghu for years, and finally came to the capital... ending up as a clerk at the brokerage, right?"
"Yes, you're absolutely right!" Evan Yang stared at the old man, dumbfounded, and nodded instinctively.
"Let me tell you then. That owner and all three hundred sixty-nine members of his family were beheaded by the court, and even now, their souls are still imprisoned in the Heaven-Execution Pavilion."
Evan Yang rose at the command.
The old man smugly shook his tattered banner. "Take a look—what's written on it?"
"Heaven-Secrets Diviner!" Evan Yang couldn't help but read the four characters aloud.
"I know astronomy above, geography below, the past fifty thousand years and the next fifty thousand years—what in this world could I possibly not know?" the old man said disdainfully.
"Well, since you're so sincere, I'll give you some guidance." The old man calmly pocketed the Storage Ring, then began forming hand seals and calculating. After a while, he spoke slowly, "Kid, if you stay in the capital, you'll spend your whole life as a brokerage clerk. Your opportunity lies in the south—leave the capital and head south, and within a hundred years, your future will be limitless!"
"Heh, you don't believe me? Then I'll give you a free reading!" As he spoke, the old man quickly formed hand seals. After a moment, he continued, "Kid, your current name is Paul Wu, but your real name is Evan Yang, isn't it?"
So the group returned to the brokerage, and Evan Yang brought out the manager—a middle-aged man with late Soul-Split cultivation.
Before he could speak, the old man went on, "You lost your father at three, your mother at five, became a beggar at six, and at eight were taken as a disciple by a rogue cultivator. Sadly, that master only taught you for ten years before being killed. You became a rootless wanderer again, changed your name to Paul Wu to avoid your master's enemies, drifted through the jianghu for years, and finally came to the capital... ending up as a clerk at the brokerage, right?"
"Yes, you're absolutely right!" Evan Yang stared at the old man, dumbfounded, and nodded instinctively.
"So do you still doubt me now?" the old man asked proudly.
"Master Heaven-Secrets, the listed price for this mansion is twenty-three thousand top-grade spirit crystals. With my authority, I can only discount up to five hundred!" Evan Yang answered honestly.
"Selling a cursed house for over twenty thousand?" the old man sneered. "If I couldn't cleanse the baleful energy here, I'd have walked away ages ago!"
Evan Yang didn't dare argue. "Yes, yes, Master Heaven-Secrets, you're absolutely right. But that's truly all the authority I have. How about this: let's go back to the brokerage, and I'll report to my manager—maybe we can get a bigger discount!"
Suddenly, Evan Yang knelt in front of the old man, offering his Storage Ring with both hands. He said excitedly, "Old Immortal, this is everything I own. Please, show me my future!"
So the group returned to the brokerage, and Evan Yang brought out the manager—a middle-aged man with late Soul-Split cultivation.
At this, Evan was overjoyed and quickly kowtowed three times. "Thank you, Old Immortal! Thank you!"
"Manager Marks, what's the rock-bottom price for your cursed house?" the old man asked bluntly.
"Yes, sir!"
So he could only reply, frustrated, "Twenty-two thousand is the lowest."
"Kid, now tell me the lowest price for this mansion!" The old man glanced smugly at Ian Song as he asked.
"Old Immortal, the listed price for this mansion is twenty-three thousand top-grade spirit crystals. With my authority, I can only discount up to five hundred!" Evan answered honestly.
"But it's a cursed house!" the old man pressed, not letting go of the point.
Evan didn't dare argue. "Yes, yes, Old Immortal, you're absolutely right. But that's truly the extent of my authority. How about this: let's go back to the brokerage, and I'll report to my manager—maybe we can get a bigger discount!"
"Manager Marks, don't be rash! The Old Immortal is a true master—you can't afford to offend him!" Evan Yang pleaded nervously.
So the group returned to the brokerage, and Evan brought out the manager—a middle-aged man with late Soul-Split cultivation.
Manager Marks slapped Evan Yang aside, then glared fiercely at the old man. "Teach this old fool a lesson!"
At this, a flash of killing intent flickered in Manager Marks's eyes. He said coldly, "Sir, you'd better watch your mouth—or you might invite trouble!"
Manager Marks wasn't happy about the old man insisting on calling it a cursed house, but since the last three owners had died unnatural deaths, he couldn't really deny it.
So he could only reply, annoyed, "Twenty-two thousand is the lowest."
"Twenty-two thousand!" the old man sneered.
No sooner had Manager Marks spoken than four Soul-Split thugs swaggered in.
"But it's a cursed house!" the old man wouldn't let it go.
Hearing 'cursed house' again, Manager Marks grew irritated. "Fine, I'll drop another five hundred. That's the absolute lowest!"
"Heh, you call that a discount?" the old man scoffed.
"If that's how you feel, sir, then please leave!" Manager Marks snapped, finally losing his temper.
"Fine, I'll go. Just don't blame me if I spread the word about your haunted mansion!" The old man stood up and headed for the door.
At this, a flash of killing intent appeared in Manager Marks's eyes. He said coldly, "Sir, I advise you not to speak recklessly—or you might bring disaster on yourself!"
Hannah Murong cried out and tried to rush forward, but her speed was no match for the Soul-Split enforcer.
The old man turned around, smiling disdainfully.
"Guards!"
No sooner had Manager Marks spoken than four Soul-Split enforcers strode in, full of swagger.
"Manager Marks, don't be rash! The Old Immortal is a true master—you can't afford to offend him!" Evan Yang pleaded nervously.
"Out of my way!"
Manager Marks slapped Evan aside, then glared fiercely at the old man. "Teach this old fool a lesson!"
"Watch this!"
One of the enforcers grinned, stepped forward, and swung his palm at the old man.
"Grandpa!"
Murong Hongdou cried out and tried to rush forward, but her speed was no match for the Soul-Split enforcer.
Ian Song, meanwhile, watched coldly from the sidelines, not making a move. He was curious to see what the old man was truly capable of.