Volume One, Chapter 2: Pretending to Be a Heavenly Master?

How strange, Jiang Chen thought. He noticed that the two people were both dressed quite well. Though not in international couture, they were at least wearing luxury brands. Why would they be seeking out an old man who looked so ragged and shabby?

Moreover, the title of Celestial Master—apart from his own master, only he himself was worthy of being called that in the whole world. For this man to call himself a Celestial Master was nothing short of an insult to his master and the reputation of Mount Longhu.

Jiang Chen moved closer and heard the old man joke, “Just a few days ago, I told you your father was attacked by evil energy and didn’t have long to live, but you refused to believe me. Now you come looking for me.”

Tong Wuji replied with a sycophantic smile, “Forgive us, Celestial Master. My father misjudged things the other day. I’ve brought him to apologize to you in person.”

The old man snorted, his voice turning cold. “You wouldn’t pay thirty thousand the last time. Now you want me to come out of retirement? Thirty thousand won’t be enough to move me.”

Tong Wuji said, “Don’t worry, the price will satisfy you. Fifty thousand has already been transferred to your account.”

The old man looked surprised for a moment, then said, “Fifty thousand? Do you think you’re giving alms to a beggar? That amount is an insult.”

He held up three fingers.

Tong Wuji frowned slightly. “Another thirty thousand?”

Eighty thousand was still within his acceptable range. After all, if he could save his father, eighty thousand was nothing.

But the old man suddenly waved his hand and barked, “Three hundred thousand! Not a penny less, or I won’t treat him.”

“Three hundred thousand?! Old man, are you trying to rob us?”

“Tong Yan, mind your manners!” Tong Wuji snapped.

The old man looked the girl up and down, a hint of delight flickering in his eyes.

“Sir… three hundred thousand is really too much. My father…” Tong Wuji tried to reason further, but the old man turned away, refusing to listen.

“Can’t you understand? Not a penny less, or I won’t do it!” the old man retorted.

In the end, Tong Wuji gritted his teeth. “Fine—three hundred thousand. But I want you to treat my father right now!”

The old man smiled and nodded. “A teachable young man. Let’s go.”

Tong Yan stomped her foot furiously on the side.

At that moment, Jiang Chen stepped forward and said, “Well, well, Celestial Master, I’ve heard so much about you. The moment I saw you, I knew you must be an inner disciple of Mount Longhu. Would you mind letting me join you to observe?”

Elder Wang was briefly taken aback. The young man before him looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place him. Still, being flattered as an inner disciple of Mount Longhu put him in high spirits—especially since he’d never even set foot in the mountain gate.

“Ahem, I didn’t expect to meet someone who knows the trade here. Very well, you can come with me. I happen to need an assistant. If you perform well, I wouldn’t mind taking you as a disciple.”

Jiang Chen grinned. “That would be wonderful. Thank you for your guidance, Master!”

“Guidance is nothing—such generosity is the mark of a true Celestial Master,” Elder Wang said, unable to hide his smile. He relished this kind of flattery. He’d made plenty of money under the title of Celestial Master and felt no qualms about it.

Jiang Chen got into the car, sitting at the back with Tong Yan. The girl showed him no kindness, glaring at him from time to time. If she hadn’t resembled his own seventh senior sister, Jiang Chen wouldn’t have bothered with this troublesome affair.

They drove to another villa district. Jiang Chen observed that this villa was a far cry from the Tianyun Villa he’d just left; in terms of class, Tianyun Villa was much more upscale.

He hadn’t expected that the wife he’d married only yesterday would turn out to be a wealthy woman.

After getting out of the car, Jiang Chen followed the group. Tong Wuji led Elder Wang into the villa.

On the second floor, a beautiful woman greeted them. She looked to be in her forties, but exhaustion had left its mark on her face, giving her a weary appearance.

Even so, she was still a graceful, elegant lady.

“Master, you’re finally here. Please, help my husband,” she pleaded, her voice hoarse and her eyes brimming with tears.

Elder Wang approached and said with a laugh, “I told you before—what thirty thousand could have solved, now you have to pay three hundred thousand. Who’s to blame but yourselves?”

Tong Wuji’s face darkened at the words, and Tong Yan’s cheeks flushed with anger. But with their hopes pinned on him, they had to swallow their indignation.

The lady bowed slightly. “Please, Celestial Master, help us.”

Elder Wang waved his hand, signaling them to step back as he began his ritual.

Jiang Chen noticed a black aura swirling around the man lying in bed. This sinister energy wasn’t visible to the naked eye—it could only be seen by those like them, Celestial Masters who had opened their spiritual eyes.

Elder Wang did know a thing or two, at least enough to attempt a basic exorcism. But with only that knowledge, it was impossible for him to remove the evil energy from the man’s body. If he made a mistake, the black energy could spread from the abdomen to the limbs, and not even a deity could save him then.

Moreover, this was not ordinary evil energy, but baleful energy—deliberately cultivated using human means. If not expelled in time, the man would become a puppet, manipulated by whoever was behind it.

Five minutes passed, and beads of sweat formed on Elder Wang’s forehead. He’d tried every folk remedy he knew, but nothing worked.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes snapped open.

Tong Wuji and his wife both looked overjoyed.

“Master, you’re a true expert! Has my father recovered?” Tong Wuji asked in surprise.

Even Tong Yan’s expression grew noticeably softer.

Elder Wang frowned. He didn’t know what had happened—the man had simply opened his eyes.

But he was used to bluffing and quickly seized the opportunity. “Your father is awake. In no time, he’ll be fully cured. Let’s settle the bill, shall we?”

Tong Wuji pulled out his phone. Elder Wang, anxious yet pretending to be calm, casually took out his own phone.

Just then, Jiang Chen, who had been silent, spoke up. “Master, are you sure he’s really cured?”

Tong Wuji was about to enter his password when he froze at Jiang Chen’s words.

He turned. “What do you mean? Are you saying my father isn’t cured after all?!”

The façade of Elder Wang’s immortal demeanor crumbled. “Boy, it’s one thing to joke, but watch your tongue. His eyes are open, aren’t they?”

Jiang Chen chuckled. “So opening his eyes means he’s cured? If he closed them, would that mean he’s dead? Shouldn’t we at least see if he can speak?”

“Hmph! I’ve never failed in a case. Seems you’re looking for trouble!” Elder Wang had once worked in a shop at the foot of Mount Longhu in his youth, learning a few tricks. He was more than a match for a greenhorn.

He was about to teach the impudent youth a lesson when Tong Yan stepped in angrily. “He’s not awake yet! If he can’t even speak, how can you call that cured…”

Before she could finish, fear spread across her face.

Elder Wang turned in confusion—only to see the man on the bed standing, his eyes now blood-red. In an instant, a pair of withered, purplish hands clamped down around Elder Wang’s throat.

“Help… help!”