The drawing room was already quite full.

  The room was enormous, with ceilings soaring six meters high. At the center hung a massive landscape painting signed by some national-treasure-level artist. Rosewood armchairs and huanghuali tea tables were arranged throughout. The antique shelves in the corners displayed various jade pieces and curios—any single item could probably buy a house.

  Guests clustered in small groups, murmuring in conversation or debating over tea. The men were mostly in suits; the women dripped with jewels. The air was thick with competing expensive perfumes, so dense it was almost choking.

  The moment Dante walked in, he became the center of attention.

  Not because of his status—though Lizzle had been riding high lately, plenty of people here could match him in wealth or connections.

  It was his face, and the effortless elegance in his every movement.

  Even in his forties, Dante's features remained sharp as if carved from stone. High brow bone, straight nose, thin lips slightly pressed together, cool gaze. The marks time had left on his face weren't signs of aging but of refinement—the composure and restraint of someone who'd weathered the world only added to his mature appeal.

  That perfectly tailored black suit only enhanced his straight posture and distinguished bearing. He looked like a model representing his own brand.

  The heiresses and young wives in the room all turned to look. Some even made a point of refilling their champagne glasses and began drifting his way. Whispers rose on all sides.

  "Who's that?"

  "I think he's the CEO of Lizzle, something Li…"

  "God, he's handsome. A hundred times better than my husband…"

  "I heard he's still single…"

  Dante was long accustomed to such attention. His expression betrayed nothing as he smiled politely, nodding and exchanging greetings with a few acquaintances.

  Dax and Ling, trailing behind him, weren't so lucky. The looks directed at them were nakedly appraising and contemptuous.

  "Who are those bumpkins? How'd they get in here?"

  "Probably someone's distant relative… from the countryside?"

  Ling couldn't have cared less about the stares. She was actually looking around with unabashed curiosity, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

  "Ooh, nice vase. Wonder if I can swipe it later—stick it in my tavern to collect memory fragments."

  "Hey, is that painting real? Isn't that a piece by that blind painter who used to drink at my place?"

  "This couch is so comfortable, my butt's sinking right in…"

  Dax, on the other hand, had been frowning since the moment he walked in.

  Just then, a voice boomed from the crowd like a gong:

  "Well, well! If it isn't Brother Jiang!"

  A burly man in a dark brown Mao suit parted the crowd and strode over.

  He looked to be around fifty, with a massive build—broad shoulders, thick waist, like a brown bear standing upright. His round head was balding, the remaining hair slicked back meticulously. Around his neck hung a string of Dragon-Blood agarwood beads, their surfaces polished to a lacquer-like sheen, while his wrists were stacked with bracelets of various materials that clinked with every step.

  His face was ruddy, eyes crinkled into slits from smiling, radiating an unmistakable air of the rough-and-tumble.

  "Brother Jiang! Never expected to run into you here!"

  He threw an arm around Dax's shoulders with the enthusiasm of a long-lost friend: "Man oh man, Old Hu's really lucked out today! Burned some Eight-Trigram incense before leaving and look—ran right into a VIP!"

  Dax's expression was complicated. He clearly didn't want to chat with this "Old Hu," but the man was too aggressively friendly, sticking to him like a plaster that wouldn't peel off.

  "Master Hu." Dax forced a smile. "It's been a while."

  "Sure has! Sure has!" Old Hu nodded repeatedly, then bellowed for all to hear, "I gotta say, if the Lei family managed to get Brother Jiang here, why'd they even bother calling the rest of us? This is like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut!"

  Everyone nearby turned to look.

  Dax's expression shifted. "Master Hu, you flatter me. I'm only—"

  "Hey, don't be modest!" Old Hu waved his big hand, cutting him off. "Everyone knows what you're capable of! That case back then… if it wasn't for you stepping in, man… tsk tsk…"

  He lowered his voice, affecting mystery: "That was seven lives! Seven! Almost became a serial murder case! Every detective in the city was stumped, and in the end it was you who…"

  "Ahem." Dax coughed heavily twice, cutting him off. "No need to dwell on the past. Master Hu, were you about to…?"

  "Oh right, right, almost forgot!" Old Hu slapped his forehead and waved toward someone nearby. "Little Hai! Come here!"

  A young man in his early twenties jogged over, carrying two bulging black garbage bags that looked heavy, contents unknown.

  "Master, you called?"

  "Take the stuff back to the car." Old Hu waved grandly. "Won't be needing it!"

  "Huh?" The young man froze. "But Master, you spent days preparing all this equipment…"

  "I said move it! What's with all the questions!" Old Hu glared at him. "With Brother Jiang here holding down the fort, you think there's room for us to do anything? Tonight we're just here to mooch dinner. Eat well, drink well, watch and learn. Got it?"

  The young man looked utterly bewildered but obediently carried the bags outside.

  That little speech had just kicked a hornet's nest.

  What do you mean "room for us to do anything"?

  What do you mean "mooch dinner"?

  So all these esteemed masters present are just freeloaders in your book?

  The Taoist priests, ritual masters, and lay practitioners managed to keep their composure—they were "cultivators," after all, and had to maintain appearances. One by one they held their teacups, lowered their gazes, and adopted expressions of "the enlightened do not stoop to argue with the common"—though the fingers gripping their cups had gone slightly white.

  But the "middlemen" who had arranged introductions and brought these masters here weren't nearly so refined.

  Some were businessmen hoping to curry favor with the Leis Others were distant relatives connected by the thinnest of threads—some third cousin's uncle twice removed. Still others were simply well-connected social operators who'd heard the Leis were in trouble and rushed to bring in "experts." To them, this kind of favor-trading was guaranteed profit.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  But now look what happened—the masters they'd worked so hard to bring in were being publicly dismissed as "observers here to watch and learn"?

  "Who does this guy think he is? What a big mouth." A fat businessman wearing a gold chain sneered.

  "Exactly. What's his background? I've never even heard of him." A bejeweled middle-aged woman rolled her eyes. "Probably just here to mooch off the rich."

  "Tsk, scammers these days really have some nerve, sneaking into a place like this…"

  The whispers quickly turned into open mockery. The middlemen sized up Dax like he was a circus clown, their eyes saying:

  The masters they'd invited, meanwhile, wore expressions that said "I'm not saying anything, but I'm very displeased"—maintaining their dignified poses, waiting to watch the show.

  Dax's frown deepened. He made a mental note to start wearing a mask and glasses like Ling whenever he went out.

  But no matter how much he wanted to fade into the background, more and more people were noticing the growing commotion.

  "Who are these two? Talking so big."

  "The burly one—oh wait, they're both pretty burly—the shabby one, no clue. The other one I know, Hu Tigan or whatever. Total online fraud! 'Secret disciple of the Sect of the Vermilion Pine' ? Bullshit! I'm tight with the actual inheritors of that sect—there's definitely no such person."

  "The Leis must be losing their minds, letting in all this riff-raff."

  "Sigh…" A middle-aged Taoist with a goatee lowered his voice, glancing around. "The Leis' situation really is dangerous. Everyone, we'll need to watch each other's backs later."

  "Exactly. This is already walking a tightrope. If a few more of these bumbling idiots show up…" A bald man in Buddhist robes picked up the thread. "When things go south, we'll all go down with them."

  The masters gradually formed their own little circles, clustering in groups of three to five, heads together in hushed conversation.

  The more they talked, the heavier the atmosphere grew. Their gazes all fell on the man in the shabby flight jacket who Master Hu wouldn't let go of.

  —None of them knew him. That was strange.

  The "experts" present might not have met in person, but they'd all heard of each other by reputation. This circle wasn't that big or that small—the truly capable were a known quantity. Anyone worth mentioning knew everyone else worth mentioning.

  But this guy surnamed Jiang? Never heard of him.

  "Probably a charlatan…"

  "Nine out of ten. Technology's made it easy these days—anyone can go around scamming people… Last time I ran into a spirit medium giving kids 'calming talisman water' that was just crushed aspirin mixed in."

  "Ugh, we train hard, we have real aspirations, and these con artists ruin our reputation. People like this—we should band together and take them down one by one!"

  Just as the growing unrest was about to become a unified front aimed at an outside target, the instigator Hu—either genuinely oblivious to the room, or having had a few too many drinks, or both—not only didn't dial it back but doubled down.

  Seeing everyone looking their way, his natural showmanship kicked in.

  "Esteemed masters! Esteemed masters!"

  He bellowed at the top of his lungs, loud enough for the entire villa to hear:

  "This humble one is Hu Tigan, secret disciple of the Sect of the Vermilion Pine!" He thumped his chest. "I guarantee to all of you—with our Master Jiang here, tonight will be completely safe! Everyone, don't be so serious, relax… hey, why just drink tea? Come on! Let's drink! I'll go first!"

  With that, he raised his wine glass, toasted the room, and drained it in one dramatic gulp.

  The room went dead silent. The masters' faces visibly darkened.

  A moment later, one hot-tempered bruiser couldn't hold back anymore.

  "Secret disciple?" He slammed his glass on the table, wine splashing everywhere. "You're just an unregistered outer disciple! You guarantee? What do you guarantee with? That nonsense-spewing mouth of yours?"

  "Exactly!" chimed in a rat-faced man. "Everyone here knows how thorny the Leis' situation is. A nobody like you, opening your mouth and making promises—you think the rest of us are pushovers?"

  "Yeah! This guy should be thrown out! When things go wrong, he'll drag down our names and reputations!"

  "I bet he's just here to skim donations!"

  The crowd's emotions ignited instantly. Hu's face flushed red under the barrage. He tried to defend himself but was drowned out by accusations from all sides.

  And Dax—Dax clutched his head, unconsciously pulling at his own hair, temples throbbing.

  He'd calculated plenty before coming, but he'd never factored in running into such a brainless idiot. A few sentences, and he'd been painted as the common enemy.

  He was drowning in regret for not subscribing to the Pro version of 'FateCalc' to save on those damn membership fees. He had come here blindly, lured by a generic 'Good Career Luck' notification that the free version had spat out.

  As it turned out, he'd been worried since walking through the door: how to get all these masters to leave so he could cut loose. But these people did have some cultivation, each carrying their own magical implements—he couldn't be sure he could manage them all.

  After all, one slip-up, one overspend on borrowed spiritual power, and the higher-ups wouldn't approve an expense reimbursement.Anything extra would have to come out of his own pocket—'powered by love,' as they say."

  Dax had too many concerns, needing to balance considerations from every angle. Before he could devise a foolproof plan, this idiot had already set him on fire.

  

  Why did I have to be nice and save him!

  Just then, an aged but resonant voice spoke up:

  "Everyone, please."

  The crowd fell silent at once.

  The speaker was an elderly man with white hair and a youthful complexion. He wore snow-white Taoist robes, face thin and austere, his bearing carrying an otherworldly air. In his hand was a dragon-coiled walking staff, its top inlaid with a fist-sized night-luminous pearl that gleamed in the dim light.

  This elder clearly commanded respect among the group. He merely waved his hand, and the masters who'd just been arguing red-faced immediately fell silent and shut their mouths.

  The elder walked slowly to Dax and looked him up and down. Then he spoke, his voice unhurried:

  "Fellow practitioners."

  His tone was calm, as if stating the most ordinary fact:

  "I understand you're eager to help. But building a reputation shouldn't be rushed."

  He paused, then said meaningfully:

  "Perhaps you can't sense it, but this residence is already showing signs of grave misfortune. The malevolent energy here is so heavy that even I must proceed with caution. If you can't even perceive that…"

  He shook his head with a sigh:

  "I advise you both to withdraw quickly. Don't risk your lives for fame and fortune. This old man will personally cover your appearance fee today, so your trip won't have been for nothing."

  Every word was righteous and compassionate.

  The masters present nodded in agreement, secretly impressed by the elder's magnanimity. A wave of shameless flattery followed in quick succession.

  Hu was struck speechless, his fat face flushed red, fuming but unable to form a rebuttal. He was about to say something else when—

  "Shut up."

  Dax finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable weight of authority. Hu 's throat seemed to seize up, the rest of his words stuck in his gullet.

  Not far away, Ling was comfortably nestled in a corner sofa, chomping on a steak while watching the spectacle with great interest. Watching Dax get mobbed, sparks practically flying from his head yet helpless to do anything—her oil-gleaming lips had stretched into a grin that reached her ears.

  What pleased her even more was the blindingly bright tag hovering right over Hu’s head:

  BountyGo - [Item Identification Successful]

  ? Item Name:

  Millennium Dragon-Blood Agarwood Beads

  (The Sect of the Vermilion Pine Elder Token · Encrypted Version)

  

  【Related Bounty Detected】

  ? Source:

  Lost & Found Office. SVP

  ? Description:

  "An Elder of our sect lost this identity token three years

  ago during a 'cloud-wandering' trip. This item is vital

  for the Elder's pension collection. Any fellow Taoist who

  returns it will have our deepest gratitude."

  ? Reward:

  3 Sticks of Premium Incense (Tax excluded).

  Claim this bounty notice? [YES] / [NO]

  [SYSTEM NOTICE]

  Free Tier Detected. Scanning is restricted to

  Low-ROI (Return on Investment) bounty listings only.

  [PROMOTION] Upgrade to VIP, SVIP, or SSVIP to unlock:

  ? High-ROI Legendary Bounties

  ? Elite Karma Arbitrage Tools

  ? Smart Scapegoat Matching

  [read more…]

  "Maximize your karma-to-merit conversion!"

  [Subscribe: From 999 Burn/Month] [I prefer being poor and blind]

  Ling nearly spit out her food laughing.

  Reward… 3 sticks of premium incense? What is this, tipping a beggar? This was an encrypted token… only an idiot would trade it for 3 sticks of incense.

  "Hu Tigan, oh Tigan." Ling watched the fat man start spraying spittle everywhere again, her gaze suddenly turning affectionate. "You're not a liability at all. "

  She silently tagged Hu with a new label:

  【Walking Gift Bag (Unopened)】

  Dax was about to turn helplessly to Dante for an exit, only to find the man already ten meters away, lighting a cigarette for a socialite. His smile was polished and gentlemanly, as if the farce happening here had absolutely nothing to do with him.

  The moment chaos broke out, he had quietly slipped away to the ladies' corner.

  —He didn't know any Dax.

  —He certainly hadn't brought any charlatan with him.

  A stunning beauty leaned tipsy against his shoulder, her smile radiant. It looked like Dante had gained another admirer tonight.

  

  "Ting—"

  

  A crisp sound of glass being tapped cut through everyone's scattered thoughts.

  All eyes turned toward the source.