Chapter 15: The Fate-Severing Technique Has This Use?
Lu Si Si fled in tears, leaving no reason for Chen Yan and Little Zhao to visit the hospital any longer.
Little Zhao simply returned to the scenic area to continue playing his assigned role, while Chen Yan, after sending him off, allowed a subtle smile of satisfaction to emerge on his face—
His vital energy had increased once again!
The moment he had “helped” Lu Si Si meet her calamity ahead of time, when the girl choked on water, a portion of the dark aura surrounding her—the foreboding sign of a drowning fate—dissipated.
At that instant, Chen Yan once again experienced the same sensation he had felt on the airplane a few days ago. The flow of fate around him shifted, and a gentle trickle of vital energy seeped into his being. It was smooth, effortless—like the touch of spring rain upon his face, cool yet soothing. The sensation was incredibly refreshing.
[So… I can gain cultivation by helping others escape disaster?]
[Am I cultivating vital energy… or is this some grand path of karmic virtue?]
Chen Yan stood in contemplation for a moment.
If aiding others in avoiding catastrophe could elevate his cultivation, then he had no qualms about spending his days escorting elderly grandmothers across the street!
Yet, pondering endlessly would yield no answers. He glanced at the sky—it was about time to head home.
Hmm? His stomach rumbled.
Looking to the left side of the street, he recalled a KFC nearby. If today was Thursday…
A tall, slender girl stood at the roadside, staring longingly at the clean, brightly lit establishment ahead.
Through the massive glass windows, she could see the pristine interior, where a promotional poster displayed a white-bearded old man clad in a crisp white suit.
But none of this interested her.
What truly caught her eye was the sight of two young boys walking out of the store, each clutching a fragrant, crispy drumstick, eagerly tearing into them.
(Ugh… I’m so hungry… I want a drumstick too…)
Her hair, unkempt and tangled, had clearly not been washed for days. The originally neat braid had unraveled, leaving loose strands hanging messily.
She wore a black cotton jacket—one that seemed far too mature for her—and it was filthy, coated in patches of dust and grime. Yet, despite her disheveled appearance, her face remained clean, her features strikingly beautiful, with eyes that carried an alluring charm.
She desperately wanted to step inside and buy a drumstick.
But…
Her pockets were empty.
Her last coin had been spent on a phone call earlier today.
[Third Uncle never told me that money in the outside world disappeared so quickly!]
Before she left home, Third Uncle had given her a few hundred paper notes from the outside world, assuring her that, if she spent carefully, it would last months.
Yet, barely ten days had passed, and despite rationing herself to just one meal a day, she was completely broke.
She had been watching this chicken-leg shop for quite some time now. The customers who entered never handed money to the staff. Instead, they used a strange “mobile phone” to scan a glowing screen a few times…
And then they simply waited at the counter until the staff placed their food there for them to take.
[Hmm…]
[There might be an opportunity here…]
After stepping into KFC, Chen Yan placed an order for a family bucket through his phone. While waiting, he casually found a seat and scrolled through short videos.
After some time, he lifted his gaze toward the large digital display above the counter.
Order number: A0087
[That’s me.]
He walked toward the counter and spotted his neatly packaged family bucket waiting in the pickup area. Just as he reached out—
Swish!
A shadow streaked past him like the wind!
A figure snatched the bucket in one swift motion, cradled it tightly, and bolted for the exit!
Chen Yan: “…Huh?!”
The figure, clutching Chen Yan’s family bucket, burst through the doors and vanished down the street in an instant.
She was so fast that Chen Yan barely caught a glimpse of her.
He had the vague impression of a girl, dressed in black.
And just before she disappeared, he swore he heard a clear, apologetic voice—
“Sorry about this!”
Several seconds passed before Chen Yan snapped back to reality. His wide eyes darted from the empty counter to the street beyond.
“What the hell?!”
His family bucket! His glorious, massive family bucket!
[I just… got robbed?]
[Wait… Since when do thieves bother apologizing?]
[Did she seriously say sorry?!]
Two streets away, a shadowy figure darted into a side alley and rushed toward a vacant construction site.
It was near the end of the year, and the workers had gone home, leaving the unfinished building completely abandoned.
The girl dashed toward a skeletal five or six-story structure, making her way around to the back. Once she confirmed that no one had followed her, she stomped her foot—
Whoosh!
In the blink of an eye, her body shot upward, landing gracefully on the rooftop.
Only after reaching the cold, cement platform did she finally let out a breath of relief.
She leaned halfway over the edge, glancing below.
Good. No one was following her.
Exhaling, she carefully unsealed the family bucket.
The moment the lid lifted, the rich aroma of crispy, oily chicken wafted into the air, making her stomach growl involuntarily.
She pouted, feeling a wave of grievance, but carefully placed the family bucket in front of her.
Then, pressing her palms together in solemn prayer, she muttered with reverence:
“Honored Ancestor above, this disciple acknowledges that the clan’s teachings strictly forbid stealing from the innocent.
“However… this disciple had no other choice.
“The reason for my transgression is threefold:
“First—Third Uncle’s teachings were completely wrong!
“Second—The treacherous* Chen Family Thief** is far craftier than expected and remains well-hidden!*
“And third…”
Her lips quivered as she struggled to continue. Finally, she whispered in a pitiful tone—
“Third… is that this disciple was simply too hungry to endure…
“So, Honored Ancestor, if there must be punishment…
“Please punish Third Uncle first.”
Punish those vile scoundrels of the Chen family.
As for the disciple…
Surely, the venerable ancestor, with his wisdom and boundless grace, would not bring punishment upon his own disciple.”
With these words, the young girl finally let out a long breath, as if unburdening her heart. She sank back onto the cold ground, her small, grimy hands reaching into the paper bucket to snatch up a piece of chicken. She took a large, hungry bite.
“Mmm… so fragrant…”
Her eyes widened in delight.
—
Dusk fell.
In the chill of early winter, the sun sank below the horizon far too soon. Without its warmth, the air grew frigid at an alarming pace. Though the sky had yet to darken completely, a single step outside was enough to feel the creeping chill carried on the wind.
Chen Yan sat within the underground chamber of his villa.
This place, once a mere storeroom, had been transformed by its former owner into a workshop, cluttered with odd tools, spare household electronics, and two aged toolboxes. Yet, amid the chaos, one worktable stood pristine, cleared by Chen Yan’s own hands. Its surface was draped with an oiled cloth, upon which lay a set of carving tools and several slabs of blue stone, each over a meter long—his practice materials for engraving mystical runes.
At this moment, however, his attention was fixed upon two jade tokens resting atop the table: one of azure, the other of pure white. They were nothing more than common trinkets he had purchased earlier that day from an antique shop.
Chen Yan gazed at them in deep contemplation.
Upon returning home, he had already conducted his experiments. The white jade, possessing a finer quality, reached its limit after merely fifteen seconds of absorbing the Nurturing Method’s vital energy. The azure jade fared even worse, revealing two minute fractures at the ten-second mark.
Yet, he could recall it vividly—the jade ring on his finger had endured minutes of energy infusion before showing any sign of reaching its capacity.
Of course, emeralds were naturally superior in quality compared to these crude jade pieces. But even then, the disparity was simply too great.
This jade ring… was no ordinary trinket.
And yet…
“I hold a golden rice bowl, yet I beg for alms.”
Chen Yan sighed in frustration.
He knew he possessed a treasure, but its true nature remained a mystery.
With his current cultivation, probing its secrets was an impossible feat.
Why had the Old Madam placed such an artifact within the secure depths of a vault, only to entrust it to him without so much as a single word of explanation?
After much deliberation, he reached a decision.
From this day forth, he would dedicate a minute each day to slowly nurturing the jade ring with his Nurturing Method. Too much might risk damaging the treasure, but steady, patient cultivation would unveil its mysteries in time—once his own strength had risen sufficiently.
—
Earlier today, he had craved KFC but had been denied. Now, after an exhausting evening, his hunger gnawed at him with a vengeance. He could devour an entire ox if one were placed before him.
As for the family bucket that had been snatched away? There was no use dwelling on it. It wasn’t worth filing a report or demanding surveillance footage over a mere few dozen coins’ worth of food.
His stomach rumbled. Perhaps he should order takeout?
But then again…
Too much takeout was unhealthy. Excess oil, excessive salt, overpowering spice—these were but crude masks for poor-quality ingredients, perhaps even tainted oils.
With that thought, he tidied his workstation and strode into the kitchen to wash his hands.
He still had some provisions in the house.
In the refrigerator, a half-filled pot of yesterday’s rice awaited. A full dozen eggs sat on the shelf—top-grade, sterile eggs, the kind that could supposedly be eaten raw.
He had tried them before. There was no particular difference in taste.
Except for the fact that each bite felt like swallowing pure gold.
Cracking two eggs into a bowl, he whisked them together before scooping out a generous portion of white rice.
Pouring the egg mixture over the rice, he stirred until every grain was coated in golden richness.
Then, he lit the stove and heated a pan with oil. Once the oil was sizzling hot, he poured in the rice mixture and tossed it swiftly over the flame.
The result—Golden Fried Rice—a dish passed down from the Old Madam herself.
Each grain of rice shimmered with a golden hue, yet not a single discernible piece of egg remained. The secret technique was in the mixing, ensuring every grain was perfectly coated before it even touched the pan.
Just before removing it from the heat, he sprinkled a pinch of salt, followed by a dash of aged soy sauce, stirring swiftly to blend the flavors.
Perfect.
Seated at a grand dining table, large enough to host ten guests, Chen Yan dined alone—like so many young cultivators of this era, phone in hand, scrolling absentmindedly.
A few unread messages awaited him. He had never been one for wide social circles, and so his contacts were few.
The most recent message was from Hu Shang Ke, whose contact name in Chen Yan’s list was set as “Bootlicker Hu.”
[Bootlicker Hu: Brother, how’s the house? I handle after-sales service too. If you have any issues, let me know—I’ll coordinate with the landlord for you.]
Chen Yan smirked. Hu Shang Ke was a decent fellow. If he ever needed another rental, he’d go through him again.
The second message was from Zhao Shan He.
[Zhao Shan He: Bro, I just had a crazy thought. When I fell into the river back then… you weren’t the one who kicked me in, were you? (dog head emoji)]
Knowing his friend was jesting, Chen Yan responded in kind:
[You guess? (dog head emoji)]
The third message was from an unfamiliar name: “Someone, Some Year.”
Chen Yan raised an eyebrow. Quite the poetic alias.
[Someone, Some Year: Mister Chen, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you in person. May I know when you would be available?]
Ah, now he remembered. This was the assistant to the owner of his rented villa, a liaison from a high-ranking business tycoon.
He had added the contact for practical reasons—if issues arose with the house, a direct line to the landlord’s representative would be useful.
Chen Yan casually typed a response.
[May I ask what this is regarding?]
Just as he was about to exit the chat and browse for a show to accompany his meal, a reply arrived instantly.
A minor matter, concerning a house.
“When would it be convenient for you? I wish to call upon you for a visit.”
Chen Yan was slightly puzzled but, after some thought, replied, “I’m home these days. You may come whenever you please.”
A minute later, as he opened a lighthearted variety show to accompany his meal, a notification from WeChat popped up.
[Someone, a Certain Year]: Would tomorrow at three in the afternoon be suitable?
Chen Yan replied with a simple “OK” and thought no more of it, immersing himself in the show.
After finishing his meal and tidying up, he returned to his room and sat cross-legged on the bed, practicing his Vital Energy Circulation Method twice over. The energy coursed through his meridians like a well-disciplined army moving along its designated paths.
Suddenly, his phone rang again!
Picking it up, he saw the caller ID: Bootlicker Hu.
Huh?
Answering casually, he was met with the excited voice of Hu Shang Ke.
“Chen Yan, Chen Yan! There’s some juicy news! Do you want to hear it? And it even involves you!”
Chen Yan, lying lazily on his bed, had little interest. “What is it? Did Deng Zi and Dong Wang announce their engagement?”
A brief pause. Hu Shang Ke was momentarily stunned by the interruption, then grumbled, annoyed, “What the hell? No! This actually has something to do with you.”
“Oh?” Now Chen Yan was mildly intrigued. “Go on.”
Hu Shang Ke’s enthusiasm reignited. “Remember that house you used to rent? I even helped you move out, remember? Your old landlord gave me his number back then, saying he wanted help finding new tenants. Remember that?”
Chen Yan vaguely recalled. The day he moved out, Hu Shang Ke had indeed accompanied him. The landlord had also been present. But one was a real estate agent, the other a property owner—talking business was natural.
“Yeah, I remember. And?”
Hu Shang Ke’s excitement heightened. “Listen to this! The landlord came to my office today. He told us his tenants all left—every single one of them! He was looking to rent the place out again and dropped a bombshell!”
Pausing for dramatic effect, he took a deep breath. “So, after you moved out, the landlord went to collect rent one day. When he opened the door, he saw one of the tenants, a guy—surname Wang, I think—lying on the floor completely naked. Unconscious. But he was still… still throwing up.”
Chen Yan frowned. “Throwing up what? Speak clearly.”
Hu Shang Ke let out a sinister chuckle. “One word: filth.”
“What the hell?!”
Chen Yan, who had been lounging, bolted upright.
“What did you say? Say it again! Filth? Out of his mouth? Holy—!”
“And that’s not all! The landlord said he was utterly petrified! The whole house—tables, floors, sofa, tea table—everywhere, covered in the stuff. It was uninhabitable.”
“The landlord called an ambulance, and they rushed the guy to the hospital. When he woke up, he remembered nothing. But when the doctors pumped his stomach, they found… traces still inside him.”
“They said… he must have eaten it himself. Ate too much, got sick, and ended up vomiting it all out.”
“Holy—!” Chen Yan was speechless. “He ate it? No, wait—where did that even come from in the first place?”
Hu Shang Ke spoke in a ghostly tone, “Didn’t I say? When the landlord found him, the guy was naked.”
Chen Yan: “………”
“Because of this, the other tenants freaked out. None of them wanted to stay in that house. And I get it—who would want to live somewhere that was literally smeared with that? They all demanded to move out. Your old landlord was livid but had no choice. That’s why he came to us to find new renters.”
Hu Shang Ke rambled on for a bit longer, savoring the storytelling moment before finally ending the call.
Chen Yan, however, was no longer listening.
He sat there, lost in thought.
Back then, to teach that Wang fellow a lesson for his poor manners, he had discreetly cast a Fate Severing Technique on him.
In theory, the spell only caused minor misfortunes—tripping on a step, spraining an ankle, catching a mild fever. His own cultivation was weak, incapable of producing anything severe.
But could the Fate Severing Technique really do… this?
Holy—!
If he used this on someone he disliked…
The damage might not be life-threatening, but it would certainly haunt their dreams forever!
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation