The next day, before the sky even turned light, Old Smoke Bag was already pacing back and forth impatiently in the courtyard, waiting for the sunrise.

He had waited for a good hour and a half before he finally saw a hint of dawn's glow light up the eastern sky.

Today, Old Smoke Bag had changed into clean clothes and, unusually, did not carry his smoking pipe with him. He had already warned his son not to come to the backyard before noon.

In the center of the courtyard, he had placed a stone he had found elsewhere, as big as the head of a hunting dog.

Originally he had wanted to find a stone as big as a millstone, but considering it was his first attempt at casting, he should not be too greedy, so he had not actually done so.

After straightening his clothes, he did as Yuan Ming instructed, lighting a stick of incense to the east first.

Then, Old Smoke Bag started imitating Yuan Ming's movements from the day before, pacing the courtyard with the Gang Step, muttering under his breath while respectfully bowing to the heavens and the earth in all four directions.

After completing a round, he came to the specially selected stone, placed both hands over it, closed his eyes tightly, and sincerely prayed.

Moments later, he took a deep breath, slowly opened his eyes, expecting a miracle to occur.

However, there was no glint of golden light from the stone beneath his hands; it remained dark, filthy as ever.

"Failed?"

Old Smoke Bag felt a "buzz" in his head, his vision suddenly darkened, and he nearly fainted.

It took him quite an effort to steady his mind, but he still felt somewhat dazed.

"The Immortal Master wouldn't deceive me; it must be a mistake somewhere... Yes, yes, I must have messed up the steps... Let's try again, one more time." Old Smoke Bag mumbled in a bewildered tone and immediately began casting again.

After going through the ritual once more, the result, of course, was still a failure.

The stone remained a stone; it did not turn into gold.

Old Smoke Bag glanced around and then at himself, suddenly slapping his forehead.

"The Immortal Master said he was stark naked at the time; that's right, it must be that my clothes are too luxurious, just like gold and silver wealth." Old Smoke Bag muttered as he stripped himself bare.

"This time it must work." He silently encouraged himself, completely forgetting Yuan Ming's admonition that there was only one chance.

If the first time did not work, it would never work afterward.

Old Smoke Bag could not care less about that now; if he failed, it meant he would lose everything.

He could not afford to lose.

At this moment, the stark naked and dark-skinned Old Smoke Bag looked like a monkey from the Ten Thousand Mountains, comical and ridiculous.

He repeated the ritual that was doomed to be ineffective and once again worshiped the heavens and earth.

But when he opened his eyes, all his hopes were once again cruelly shattered; the stone was still just a stone.

"Why is this happening..." Old Smoke Bag slumped to the ground, unable to accept reality.

It was then that a commotion suddenly erupted in the front yard.

Following this, he saw his son, rushing in from outside at a trot.

"You good-for-nothing, didn't I tell you not to come into the backyard before noon?" Old Smoke Bag bellowed angrily.

Tu Lei also froze upon seeing his father's stark naked form.

Old Smoke Bag picked up the clothes from the ground, and before he could get dressed, he saw seven or eight burly men dressed in black rush in.

"What are you doing?" Old Smoke Bag quickly fastened his belt and scolded furiously.

After shouting, he realized that these people were all enforcers from the Fortune Gambling House.

"Father, they insisted on forcing their way in, claiming they were here to take over the shop; I... I couldn't stop them." Tu Lei said with a mournful face and a voice full of grievance.

"You know about the relationship between your boss and me, don't you?" Old Smoke Bag softened his tone, puffed out his chest, and stepped forward to ask.

No sooner had he spoken than a hearty laugh came from outside.

"Old Smoke Bag, no matter how good our relationship is, even brothers must settle accounts clearly, right? This shop of yours now belongs to me." You Zhuzha walked in from outside, waving a paper with an official seal, which turned out to be a property deed.

"What did you say?" Old Smoke Bag was stunned, disbelief filling his eyes.

You Zhuzha pulled out several papers from his sleeve and said:

"I said, your grocery store and inn, along with those few plots of land, are now mine. Get out of my inn before noon."

Old Smoke Bag walked over to You Zhuzha, took a careful look, and saw that the property deeds he was holding were indeed all his own.

He felt a surge of blood rushing to his head, his eyes instantly filling with blood vessels.

"No, it's not true, you're lying to me..." Old Smoke Bag lost his wits and reached out to grab the property deeds from You Zhuzha's hands.

You Zhuzha was already on guard and dodged to the side.

The surrounding enforcers immediately swarmed up and restrained Old Smoke Bag.

"Eat bitter for refusing the wine toast, throw him out." You Zhuzha waved his hand, then walked into the backyard and looked around.

The young man from yesterday had sold these properties and lands to him for a very fair price, with only one condition that he must not come to collect the property until after sunrise.

This transaction was a windfall for him, and he naturally had no reason to refuse such a minimal request.

...

In an alley beyond the main street of Iron Tiger Town, Old Smoke Bag's family of three sat on someone else's stone steps, each face somber and filled with an expression of suffering.

The old lady who had been in charge of looking after the grocery store still couldn't comprehend how their shop and fields had suddenly become someone else's property.

Old Smoke Bag himself hadn't yet recovered from the shock, looking utterly dispirited.

He was extremely annoyed by the old lady's ceaseless questioning; the pent-up frustration within him seemed impossible to swallow.

Old Smoke Bag suddenly stood up, his gaze fixed on the courtyard wall ahead, and charged toward it head-first.

Fortunately, his son, quick-witted, grabbed his clothes and pulled him back.

Tu Lei hugged Old Smoke Bag tightly and kept calling out, "Father, no, you can't die."

"The house is ruined, what's the point of living..." Old Smoke Bag wailed in agony.

"Father, I still have money, I still have money; we can still make it," Tu Lei cried out urgently.

At these words, both Old Smoke Bag and the old lady were taken aback.

Seeing that he stopped struggling, Tu Lei's heart relaxed. He quickly took out a cloth bag from his sleeve and poured out ten shiny silver coins.

"Father, you are always so careful with money; this is the private stash I saved up," he said with a bit of embarrassment, scratching his head.

"Oh, my good son..." the old lady almost cried out.

However, Old Smoke Bag just stood there stunned.

After a long while, his face full of bitterness, he knocked the silver coins from Tu Lei's hand and slumped onto the ground.

"It was you... my son, you've made my life miserable, it's all your fault..."

Heartbroken, Old Smoke Bag collapsed on the ground, crying uncontrollably.

...

By this time, Yuan Ming had long left Iron Tiger Town.

Old Smoke Bag's encounter was just a minor incident he came across while descending the mountain; seeking incense was the most important matter at hand.

Following the direction given by the gambling house owner, he left Iron Tiger Town and traveled north for twenty or thirty miles until a tall mountain loomed ahead.

According to the map Yuan Ming had bought in the town, he knew that the mountain was called "Jiuli Mountain," named for the nine-mile distance from the base to the summit. There was a fairly large temple nestled within the mountain, known as "Jiuli Temple."

While walking on the mountain path, Yuan Ming noticed that the Southern Border folk heading up the mountain to offer incense were endless, and the scent of incense and candles wafted from a distance.

"This must be the place!" Yuan Ming thought to himself, blending in with the crowd of incense burners and stepping into the temple.

Jiuli Temple was quite spacious, with four or five courtyards front and back, many of its walls streaked with age, obviously having seen years.

Passing through two gates, Yuan Ming crossed a bustling square and arrived outside the main hall, where a tall Divine Statue stood. It was entirely black, with a human body and dog's head, holding a long sword in its right hand, and a strange fan in the left, in a pose of howling up to the sky.

The incense burners went up in turn, knelt before the Divine Statue, offered incense and prayed, with the incense smoke curling up.

After listening in the crowd for a moment, Yuan Ming basically grasped that this human-bodied, dog-headed deity was known as "Lord Quan Ya."

During his time seeking incense in the Southern Border, he had come to understand that each of the five clans of the North Territory revered their own gods; nearly all of the residents near Jiuli Mountain were of the Kasi Clan, and this temple was dedicated to the Kasi Clan's "Dog Teeth God."

It was said that the temple's Divine Statue granted remarkably efficacious wishes, deeply revered by the locals around, with its incense offerings never ceasing year after year.

Following the crowd, Yuan Ming offered a bundle of incense to the Dog Teeth God, then tossed a handful of copper coins into a side chest.

"Thank you, benefactor. Lord Quan Ya will bless you with safety and good health," a temple priest beside Yuan Ming said with a bow.

This man was quite tall, with long hands and feet, calluses on his palms, seemingly practiced in swordsmanship.

"Thank you, temple priest. I have come here today not only to pay tribute to Lord Quan Ya but also to seek help, if it's convenient?" Yuan Ming returned the bow and said.

While speaking, he slipped ten copper coins covertly into the temple priest's pocket.

The temple priest's brows lifted with a hint of a smile, noncommittally saying, "To be charitable to others is to be charitable to oneself."

"May we step aside to speak?" Yuan Ming asked, glancing at the still ceaseless stream of incense burners.

The temple priest gestured an invitation and led Yuan Ming to a corner.

"What does the benefactor wish to discuss? Please speak your mind," the temple priest said.

"I am looking for someone named Wu Sang. If you happen to know his whereabouts, could you tell me?" Yuan Ming asked.

"I have not heard of someone within the temple by the name mentioned by the benefactor," the temple priest replied after a brief thought.

"The man I seek came here about half a year ago, in his thirties, with a square face and large ears, especially skilled in Incense Making. He might have used a different name. I hope you could recall carefully, as I will be greatly thankful," Yuan Ming said, and, reaching for a silver coin, attempted to hand it to the temple priest.

"I have been in this temple for a good three to four years now, from the head monk to the young novices, I am quite familiar with them all, and indeed have not seen the person the benefactor speaks of. I suggest the benefactor inquire elsewhere." This time, the temple priest slightly shifted his stance to avoid Yuan Ming's silver coin offering, excused himself with a word, and walked away.

Yuan Ming watched the temple priest's retreating figure, walked slowly back to the entrance of the hall, thoughtfully scanning around, and then turned to walk towards the square. Just as he rounded a corner, a black raven flew out from his person and headed towards the eaves of the hall.

Without pausing, Yuan Ming walked straight toward a nearby side hall.

This place was meant for incense burners to drink tea. Yuan Ming found an empty seat, sat down, fetched a teapot and cup from the table, and began to drink by himself.

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