Chapter 94: Bluffing

Chapter 94: Coercion and Bluff

"Why have you come looking for me?"

A cold, clear voice echoed through the clinic, yet if one listened closely, a faint tremor could still be detected in the timbre.

Wu Ya Duoduo suppressed the turmoil in her heart, striving to maintain a calm facade.

She was neither a Sequencer of exceptional talent; on the contrary, she was an ordinary person who couldn't even manage to Break the Lock and Advance.

Why would this so-called Embroidered Guard Restoration Faction specifically seek her out for recruitment?

When things go awry, there must be a demon; could it be that the old man's and my identities have been leaked?

At this thought, Wu Ya Duoduo's heart skipped a beat, her brows furrowing unconsciously.

To open a clinic on Ghost Street in the Chicken-and-Goose District and run the business of "consultation and medicine" well, superb medical skills or a well-informed network alone were far from enough.

One had to weather the storms on the streets, learning how to deal with all walks of life—officials, merchants, soldiers, and bandits.

Though Wu Ya Duoduo had learned a fair bit from her grandfather, this shallow cunning of hers was nothing short of a joke in the fatty's eyes.

From the fatty's mung-bean-sized eyes shot a profound light; with a single glance, he saw through the girl's thoughts clear as day.

"The secrets you hide with such caution are sometimes merely information others can pull up at a whim. Some things the Embroidered Guard simply doesn't bother with, not that they don't know."

*Thump thump thump thump~~*

A sudden, booming heartbeat, each beat heavy as a war drum.

The girl's face turned pale as paper; her five fingers subconsciously clenched the knife hilt, yet she still felt the straight razor about to slip from her grasp.

"Sparks gather to kindle a prairie fire. Restoring the imperial power is like crossing a mighty pass; the more helping arms, the faster the journey. But the hardest thing in this world to fathom is the human heart. If someone leaks a secret, many comrades will immediately meet a violent end."

"So for us, a member's character is far more important than ability or identity. We only choose to absorb those who share a mortal enmity with the Three Teachings."

The fatty raised a hand, pointing at the girl, "The blood-deep hatred you bear is the true reason we approached you."

"Moreover, in the Restoration Faction, you are not the only sect orphan. There are many others with backgrounds identical to yours fighting alongside us."

The fatty flicked a finger; a projection shot from his fingertip, faces sliding across it one by one.

Though they were all strangers she had never met, the girl inexplicably felt a sense of kinship.

"Back when the great clans liquidated the Martial Dao Sequences, the Embroidered Guard didn't participate, and even at the critical moment, they gave many people a tile to shelter under. This isn't some earth-shattering secret; ask around Ghost Street and you'll know the truth—it can't be faked."

"You bear a blood feud to avenge, which aligns perfectly with our ideal of restoring the imperial house. Even if we cannot be called kindred spirits, we are at least fellow travelers."

The girl's frail frame swayed slightly, like a lone skiff seeking a way out amidst terrifying waves.

For a moment, she fell into deep confusion and hesitation.

It seems this Daoist Master's years of bluffing haven't been in vain; my skill grows ever more refined.

A surge of pride rose in the fatty's heart, his voice growing more sonorous and forceful, deafeningly awakening.

"Displaced and wandering, living a dog's life—have you not had enough of such an existence? If I were you, with personal vengeance placed before me, I would certainly not let it go."

A word fell, like heavenly light piercing through rain clouds.

The storm settles, the direction clear.

With a *clang*, the straight razor slid back into the sheath at the back of her skirt.

The bewilderment on the girl's face receded, a flush of blood spreading across her thin lips, a gorgeous crimson.

Blood and spirit were never the exclusive property of men.

"What does the Restoration Faction need me to do?"

The fatty grinned, shaking his head, "Nothing for now. Just Break the Lock and Advance as fast as you can, and wait for the opportunity."

Wu Ya Duoduo pressed her lips tight, a trace of misery flashing in her eyes, "My genes cannot enter a Sequence."

"Common methods cannot do it, but that doesn't mean the Restoration Faction cannot."

Watching the girl's eyes suddenly brighten, the fatty smiled confidently, "Since you are willing to join us, I will find you a Sequence compatible with your genes as soon as possible."

"All you need to do is complete your advancement quickly. The recommendation is imminent; this time, we'll practice on the Confucian aristocratic clans of Chengdu Prefecture."

The girl nodded heavily, "I understand."

Seeing this, the fatty laughed heartily, thinking to himself that the reputation of these rebels was truly useful—it could bewitch hearts, and if things went wrong, there was someone else to take the blame.

No wonder the Mohists, whenever they encountered a troublesome lawsuit, liked to throw the pot to the Heavenly Will Society.

As for finding a Sequence compatible with Wu Ya Duoduo's genes, to him it was a trivial matter.

His own Grotto-Heaven alone stored quite a few Powerhouses of other Sequences; a casual rummage through their memories would yield plenty of Sequence Nine advancement methods.

If this girl's genes were truly rotten beyond saving, worst case he'd spend some blood to customize a Spirit Root for her, letting her walk the Daoist Sequence.

A stray dog with a ruined family—give her a chance to gain power for revenge, and what wouldn't she do?

A small price in exchange for the Chu Wu Sect's legacy assets from back then; this deal was a massive profit however you calculated it.

Besides, with this eye planted beside Li Jun, that Dao Fruit would find it even harder to escape his palm.

When that martial artist is forced into a corner and chooses to Break the Seventh, that will be the moment he transplants his Dao Foundation and Divine Will, achieving the Blood-Flesh Sword Immortal.

Flesh is weak? Merely something sought but not obtained.

Once he possesses that physique, more tyrannical than a mechanical body, that Unique Tyrant's constitution—by then, who among the younger generation of the Qingcheng Group could rival him?

Thinking of this, the fatty couldn't help but sigh at his own profound Daoist destiny.

If not for that non-Sequencer old man feigning a coma last time, letting him spot a flaw and deliberately investigate their roots, this piece of fat meat would have nearly slipped from his lips.

The two had been silent for a long while now, the air slightly awkward; the fatty shook the stray thoughts from his mind, revealing a gentle smile.

"If you have any energy to spare, keep an eye on the wind and grass on Ghost Street. If anything unusual happens, contact me anytime."

He took out a communication device the size of a thumb and tossed it to Wu Ya Duoduo. Turning back at the door, he smiled, "Right, my name is Lu Dongbin, same name and surname as that Sword Immortal in *Journey to the East*."

"'Tis this life, hard to predict, oh—unwilling to reunite, yet meeting now. Looking back, splendor like a dream, vast and dim; a thread of remaining life offered to the terrifying waves."

The old man hunched his shoulders, humming a little tune, stepping with measured paces into the alley.

"Hey now, Old Crow actually has a day to crow—looks like this house call made you a pretty penny."

After the earlier farce, business in the alley was much quieter than usual; a familiar stall owner, with nothing to do, teased Wu Ya Hua as he watched.

"Can't laugh if I don't make money,"

Wu Ya Hua rolled her eyes, "It's you lot walking around with long faces every day that scares all the customers off our alley."

She even pointed a finger, wagging it as if scolding unpromising juniors.

This attitude naturally invited a chorus of curses; Wu Ya Hua merely returned a single disdainful glance as rebuttal, striding toward the heavy metal gate deep in the alley.

The old man had just entered when he saw a frail figure curled in the corner, arms hugging knees, head buried deep in her embrace.

Hearing the door, the girl slowly lifted her head, trying to twitch the corners of her mouth, yet discovering she couldn't muster a shred of a smile.

"Old man, the Embroidered Guard has set their sights on me."