On his way back to the mortuary, He Cong encountered a fortune-telling stall, where a middle-aged Taoist in a yellow robe was sitting.
This Taoist looked unfamiliar and was not from the village. He seemed to be a wandering Taoist who had traveled to this place.
Strangely, whenever someone went to ask for a fortune, this Taoist remained silent with closed eyes.
It wasn't until He Cong passed by that the Taoist opened his eyes and said, "Friend, would you like a fortune told?"
"Are you calling me?" He Cong stopped.
The fortune-teller nodded, but He Cong waved his hand and said, "I don't believe in these things."
The fortune-teller didn't mind and just stood up, saying, "You will believe, because I have foreseen that within three days, you will encounter a bloody disaster."
"I see that you are just playing tricks to deceive people," He Cong sneered.
If this fortune-teller had said his luck was bad, He Cong might have believed him a little.
But now that he had learned immortal techniques, who could harm him?
The fortune-teller didn't care and replied, "Whether I am playing tricks or not, you will know in three days. When that time comes, if you are still alive, I will give you a free fortune reading."
He Cong couldn't be bothered with the fortune-teller and walked away, returning to his mother's grave. He re-erected the tombstone and paid his respects.
He couldn't remember his mother's face, so he carved a woman's smiling face in the stone based on what he imagined in his mind.
Looking at the smiling face on the stone, He Cong seemed to feel something and sighed, "Mother, do you think this world is strange? The living often cry while the dead laugh. Nowadays, the living are not as happy as the dead."
As he spoke, tears fell from his cheeks. Just as he was about to wipe them away with his sleeve, a magpie landed on his arm and gently brushed away the tears from his face with its small head.
When He Cong left, the magpie flew away.
Back at the mortuary, lying on the grand chair, He Cong felt as if he were in a different world. After avenging his family, he didn't feel the slightest bit of joy. He only felt lost about the future, unsure of where to go.
Unknowingly, he fell asleep. When he woke up again, it was late at night. He made some food and looked at the lonely mortuary, thinking to himself, "After this, there will only be me left in this mortuary. I am not welcomed outside, so staying here for the rest of my life might not be a bad choice."
Just as he was thinking this, his right eyelid twitched. According to ancient sayings, when the left eye twitches, it signifies wealth, and when the right eye twitches, it signifies disaster.
Although he didn't believe in this superstition, the continuous twitching of his eyelid reminded him of what the fortune-teller had said.
At the same time, a rainbow flashed over He's village, and a man riding a flying sword descended into the village.
This man had a fair complexion and wore a blue robe. He looked like a nobleman's son. Strangely, he had a coarse sack tied around his waist, which looked very out of place.
After landing, the man took out an instrument that looked like a compass and lightly tapped it. The pointer of the compass spun rapidly and finally pointed to a place.
The man looked in the direction of the pointer and saw a mortuary in the distance.
He put away the compass and walked towards the mortuary.
When he arrived outside the mortuary, the man immediately saw He Cong sitting on the grand chair. With a smile, he said, "Found you!"
Hearing the voice, He Cong turned around and asked, "Who are you?"
"I am Fang Mu, a disciple of the inner sect of the Yuling Sect. I have come to take your head as ordered by the sect." As he spoke, Fang Mu stepped forward and, with a swift motion, struck towards He Cong's head.
He Cong, sitting on the grand chair, was taken aback. Just a moment ago, he was pondering whether the fortune-teller's prediction of a bloody disaster would come true. Now, someone was approaching to take his life.
Without much thought, He Cong raised a finger, and his spiritual power surged, forming a thunder arc.
The arc moved at incredible speed and exploded upon touching the man's palm. With a loud bang, the man staggered back two steps, and the grand chair under He Cong was shattered by the recoil.
"what is this Yuling Sect you mentioned? Why are you trying to kill me? I don't seem to have offended you in any way," He Cong said, standing up and subconsciously taking two steps back, staring at the man in front of him and asking coldly.
"Look at your appearance. It seems you've cultivated to become an immortal. Let me ask you, have you ever killed innocent civilians?" Fang Mu asked.
He Cong replied, "So what if I have? Those I killed deserved it. Are you implying that the people I killed are related to you?"
Fang Mu shook his head and smiled, "Those people are not my relatives. The reason for killing you is that you have violated the rules of the cultivation world!"
"The rules of your cultivation world? What does that have to do with me?" He Cong retorted.
"With your cultivation, you should abide by them. Harming civilians is the work of demonic cultivators. Today, I am here to rid the world of this evil!" Fang Mu said solemnly, attacking with his hand.
He Cong knew he couldn't reason with this man. With a firm resolve, he gritted his teeth and raised his palm to counter.
However, Fang Mu was a member of the immortal sect, far superior to He Cong in both cultivation and techniques. With just this move, He Cong was firmly suppressed.
"I'm no match for him!" He Cong felt a sinking feeling in his heart, realizing he was outmatched. He had no intention of lingering in battle and turned to run.
Fang Mu reacted quickly and chased after He Cong.
The two of them, one fleeing in front and the other chasing behind, seemed to be evenly matched.
At that moment, He Cong suddenly stopped and pulled out something from his pocket.
It was a round object with three legs at the bottom, a censer.
He Cong lifted the lid of the censer, revealing the powder inside, and scattered it towards Fang Mu.
Fang Mu didn't expect He Cong to suddenly stop. By the time he realized something was wrong, his path ahead had already been obscured by the powder from the censer. Without checking, he took a breath and felt his mind become groggy.
This censer was an item of Wang Bo's. He had once used the incense inside to control He Cong.
He Cong knew he was no match for Fang Mu, so when he saw the censer during his escape, he thought of a plan and brought it with him.
Even He Cong hadn't expected that the censer, which had almost cost him his life, would now save his life.
The incense in the censer was extraordinary, even immortal would find it hard to resist. After being affected, Fang Mu tried to resist it with his cultivation. Although he could barely suppress it, he found it difficult to focus on both resisting and chasing. As a result, his pace slowed, and he could only watch as He Cong's figure gradually disappeared.
Fang Mu's face darkened. He had to stop and take out a round pill from his waist pouch, which melted in his mouth. Ten breaths later, he felt the grogginess disappear.
But when he regained his senses and looked ahead, He Cong's figure was nowhere to be seen.