GRMFBS CH67

Luan Jin hadn’t even had the chance to declare his “stand-in” before being interrupted.

The lights in the banquet hall shifted, the music changed, and all eyes turned to the stage.

Today’s birthday star, Old Master Luan, had taken the stage.

Zhan Yan looked up—wasn’t this the old man who bought antiques? The eldest son standing beside him was the same person who had taken the old man away from the teahouse.

Back then he was still wandering the streets in a short jacket, looking like an ordinary retired elder. But now, dressed in formal attire, he suddenly seemed every bit the spirited patriarch of a wealthy family.

The old man’s gaze swept across the crowd, as if searching for someone, but there were too many people, and he didn’t find them.

Zhan Yan focused intently on digging up gossip. He blamed himself—he had been so absorbed in talking about dreams that day that he forgot to check out the old man’s gossip profile. No wonder the old man had looked so meaningfully at him when he said he was attending a birthday banquet…

So engrossed in gossip-digging, Zhan Yan missed what was happening on stage until suddenly they started calling numbers.

Oh—there was a raffle! When they had registered at the entrance, everyone was assigned a number, and now those numbers were being drawn, each with different prizes.

Luan Da, a stern-looking middle-aged man, held up the last card his father had drawn and read aloud: “Number 66, Zhan Yan.”

Zhan Yan froze for a moment, then walked onto the stage.

The old man leaned close and whispered cheerfully in his ear, “Well? Surprised?”

Zhan Yan: “You sure there wasn’t any shady business with the draw?”

The old man: “Of course it was shady business! I rigged it myself!”

And he even looked proud.

“Don’t leave later—I’ll show you my collection.”

The old man’s collection was all related to the things from his dreams. He had indeed been tricked into buying fakes before, but anything that made it into his collection room had been authenticated, and was worth seeing.

After some necessary greetings with others, Old Master Luan handed over the social duties to his son and dragged Zhan Yan upstairs to the third floor. He said mysteriously, “I’ll introduce you to someone!”

On the third floor, outside the collection room was a small tea room. Inside sat an old man in long robes with his hair tied up in a bun.

Old Master Luan introduced the two.

The tea-drinker was named Weng Yan, said to be a man of cultivation and an old friend of Master Luan.

When Weng Yan saw them enter, he set down his teacup and gave Zhan Yan a once-over, frowning: “Old Luan, I told you not to bring just anyone here.”

Old Master Luan explained: “Xiao Yan has had dreams similar to mine!”

Weng Yan looked suspiciously at Zhan Yan again. No matter how he looked, this kid seemed like someone who couldn’t even open the most basic yin-yang eyes.

“Could it be you just casually told your dream, and someone overheard and tricked you?”

Zhan Yan: Heh. Who’s the scammer here isn’t even clear yet.

He started digging for gossip.

Oh… this one’s real. From the Chiyang Sect, with proper lineage and genuine cultivation.

So he just doesn’t like me because I lack spiritual talent… lack spiritual talent…

Zhan Yan felt stabbed in the heart. Sob, sob—it was true he couldn’t even open yin-yang eyes…

Old Master Luan testified firmly: “Impossible! I’ve never told anyone about the dragon tying itself in knots!”

Weng Yan looked at Zhan Yan again, skeptical.

Zhan Yan searched further—Chiyang Sect… sounded familiar. He checked.

Oh—so you’re from the very same Chiyang Sect with that scandal: “Disciple tricks the spirit deer, scumbag fathers ten children at once.”

No wonder he’s so irritable. Understandable, understandable.

Even after staring for a while, Weng Yan still felt this was an utterly ordinary person without a shred of spiritual talent. Normally, someone who could dream of those hidden events twenty-six years ago shouldn’t be like this.

After a few more glances revealed nothing, Weng Yan lost interest and followed them into the collection room with a snort.

“Weren’t you the one telling me to stay humble and nurture longevity? Why are you so irritable yourself?” Old Master Luan teased.

Weng Yan’s mood had indeed been bad lately.

The Chiyang Sect had always been neither big nor small—unremarkable, but not destitute. Life was quiet and peaceful, and that was fine.

Sometimes they envied the great sects next door with all their resources, and they’d idly wonder when they might produce a genius disciple to bring glory to the sect. But it was always just idle talk.

Then came Zhao Qingnan, that little bastard.

After Zhao Qingnan’s scandal broke, Chiyang Sect became infamous overnight!

Now whenever they introduced themselves, saying they were from Chiyang Sect, people gave them strange looks. Some blunt ones would even ask: “Is that the sect with the ten children from one pregnancy?”

Damn it! One pregnancy, ten children! Zhao Qingnan’s mess, and yet the whole sect had to bear the shame?!

Weng Yan’s fury burned nonstop. He wanted nothing more than to drag Zhao Qingnan out and thrash him three times a day.

Their sect leader—his senior brother—was always soft-hearted and protective. At first he stopped Weng Yan, saying they’d punish him after he gave birth. Beating a… a pregnant father was too much.

Later, Weng Yan dragged his senior brother out for a walk, and when they returned, his brother had thrown Zhao Qingnan to the mob of furious female cultivators at the gate. He had never been so ruthless before.

At the time, Zhao Qingnan knelt before the ancestral tablets, sobbing uncontrollably.

His master slowly clapped: “Qingnan… I, your master, am a mediocre man. For years I’ve never been able to raise our sect’s status. I always hoped a brilliant disciple might bring renown to our sect.

“And you’ve done it…”

Zhao Qingnan, belly swollen, wept that he had been wrong.

Weng Yan had to avert his eyes—it was too much.

How had Chiyang Sect produced such a disgrace?

Unable to bear it anymore, Weng Yan came to his old friend’s place to find peace. There he learned about the recurring dream.

The collection room was kept at a steady 18°, so Old Master Luan put on a coat. After showing Zhan Yan around the collection, he left him to wander and returned to the tea room with Weng Yan.

Zhan Yan was crouched by a wooden carving, reading the item descriptions one by one. All the items depicted dragons or serpents, some one-eyed or bearing fire. They were all authentic, but ordinary objects, containing little useful information.

[This is a stone containing a trace of demonic energy. Parsing…]

Hmm?

The description was for the stone base of the wooden carving.

It was a dark red stone, full of natural holes, like a miniature Taihu rock, with its bottom polished flat.

The system hadn’t finished parsing—it kept showing: [Parsing… Parsing…]

Zhan Yan became interested and stayed crouched there.

In the tea room, Old Master Luan murmured: “Every time I dream this dream, I feel like I’m about to die in it.

“My third son was still a boy then, crying while digging through the ruins beside me.

“And I thought, what’s the point of crying? Run!”

Weng Yan was counseling him: “This dream isn’t entirely false.”

Zhan Yan pricked up his ears.

“Have you heard of parallel worlds?”

Zhan Yan: …

Wow, trendy.

If he hadn’t confirmed with his gossip system, he really would have thought Weng Yan was a conman.

“You mean my dream is from a parallel world?” Old Master Luan asked.

“Something like that,” said Weng Yan. “But what happens in a parallel world has nothing to do with you now. Don’t dwell on it. If you don’t want to dream it anymore, I can give you a talisman to place under your pillow. Within three months you won’t dream it again.”

Zhan Yan was digging for gossip again.

He figured this “parallel world” explanation was just Weng Yan deceiving Old Master Luan!

[Weng Yan worried that Luan Hanyi awakening a superpower at his age would harm his health and shorten his life, so he used the story of ‘parallel worlds’ to placate him and seal off his spiritual sense.]

Zhan Yan dug deeper and pieced it together: anyone who dreamed of the knotted Candle Dragon from twenty-six years ago had a high chance of awakening a superpower. But such abilities, not gained through cultivation, consumed the body heavily during awakening—sometimes killing the person outright.

At nearly seventy, even in decent health, Old Master Luan almost certainly couldn’t survive it. Best case, he’d lose years of life; worst case, he’d die.

While Weng Yan reassured Luan Hanyi, he also didn’t forget about Zhan Yan.

“Young man, how exactly did you… what are you looking at?” He turned and realized Zhan Yan wasn’t even listening, but squatting in the corner intently studying something.

Zhan Yan turned back: “Oh, I thought this stone was interesting.”

Old Master Luan glanced over: “That wooden carving?”

Zhan Yan: “The red stone underneath.”

Weng Yan also looked—and stopped short.

“Hm?”

That stone was unusual.

Old Master Luan set the carving aside and placed the stone on the table. All three studied it together.

Weng Yan stared seriously, Zhan Yan blankly—he was waiting for the gossip system to finish parsing. Seeing the two so focused, Old Master Luan also peered closely.

After two minutes, he couldn’t help but say: “Should I have someone scrape off a piece for testing?”

“Don’t talk!” Weng Yan snapped.

[Weng Yan suspects this is a fragment of Candle Dragon’s Tears.]

Zhan Yan’s system confirmed this first, and then the long-stalled description finally updated:

[This is a stone containing traces of demonic energy, solidified from drops of Candle Dragon’s Tears. It carries a wisp of the Candle Dragon’s mysterious power. Parsing…]

Zhan Yan glanced at Weng Yan—this guy was like a human accelerator!

As long as he spoke the right keywords, Zhan Yan’s system would instantly make progress.

Weng Yan examined the stone with his hand, then shook his head in regret: “It contains a bit of demonic energy, but far too little to be useful. At best, it’s a collector’s piece.”

He finished his study, but Zhan Yan kept staring—the system still hadn’t finished parsing!

Seeing his interest, Old Master Luan said generously: “Take it then!”

Zhan Yan: “No, no, I’m just looking.”

“You haven’t gotten your raffle prize yet.”

“But that was rigged…”

The old man waved grandly: “It’s my birthday! If I want to rig it, I’ll rig it! If I say you take it, you take it!”

Weng Yan was still watching Zhan Yan. He looked once, then again, then asked: “So how exactly did you dream it? And how many times?”

“Just once. I didn’t see myself or anyone else—just the dragon tying itself in knots, with a burning candle encircled inside. Was that dragon the legendary Candle Dragon? Does it mean something?” Zhan Yan asked.

Weng Yan frowned again, puzzled, casting doubtful glances at him: “That’s strange. Normally you’d see yourself in the dream.”

Old Master Luan explained: “Xiao Yan is only nineteen. He wasn’t even born then.”

Weng Yan was still baffled. He asked Zhan Yan to put his arm on the table and checked his pulse.

After a minute, he still felt this was just an ordinary person with no spiritual sight whatsoever!

But if he were just a liar spinning tales, how could he have picked out that stone among a room full of antiques at first glance?

Could it be that I’m not skilled enough?

For the first time, Weng Yan began seriously doubting his own cultivation.