“Gah-gah-gah-gah, got you,” Ancestor Sui Bian crowed, laughing so hard he even wiggled his hips in triumph. He said, “You really took us for fools. You tell us to come down and we come down? Of course we left a backhand. We noticed you were wrong long ago.”

He nudged Old Black Daoist and said: “Well? Wasn’t my acting top-tier? I was so into it my tears were about to fall.”

Old Black Daoist shot him a withering look and said: “Spare me. Your acting is stiff as a board. And that line ‘come at me if you dare’ was cloying.”

“If I’m bad, you’re no better,” Ancestor Sui Bian fired back.

As the two looked ready to start bickering again, the goddess, driven past her limit, shrieked: “Silence. Silence. How could I possibly fall into the hands of idiots like you?”

“Hey now, why the name-calling?” Ancestor Sui Bian said, displeased. “Your true body is in our hands. Keep it up and I will carve your statue into a stone bench and sit on you every day.”

The goddess envisioned that horrific scene and fell silent at once.

Smug, Ancestor Sui Bian gave a little snort, stepped forward, snatched the Jade Staff from her hands, and swung it around with gusto. The goddess could only glare, her anger choking her words back down.

Once he had his fun, Ancestor Sui Bian skipped past the eager Old Black Daoist and handed the Jade Staff to Elder Xiu Yu, then formed hand seals and slapped several restriction wards onto the goddess. He said: “Let’s go. Time to visit your true body.”

Under his threats the goddess, resentful and unwilling, opened the entrance and led them back into the great hall.

Perched on the statue’s neck, Yu Zhao looked down at the goddess and said: “Speak. Who are you really, and what is this art you cultivate?”

The goddess kept silent for a long time, so long they thought she would never answer, and only then did she suddenly speak: “You just said you met someone who cultivates the same art as I do. Is that true?”

Yu Zhao had not expected that question. She thought a moment, then nodded and said: “Yes.”

“What is she like? Where did you meet her?” the goddess asked again.

Ancestor Sui Bian grew impatient and said: “Hey, hey, hey. We are the ones asking questions. Do you understand your situation?”

“If you refuse to answer me, then even if I die I will not tell you what you want to know,” the goddess said flatly.

“Is that so?” Yu Zhao said.

Her hands tightened. A crisp crack sounded from the statue’s throat, and the goddess’s face blanched; several purplish marks appeared along her neck. Veins bulged across her forehead, yet she clamped her teeth together and made no sound.

Seeing the stubbornness in her eyes, Yu Zhao hesitated, then chose to trade: “I did meet her. She is not as clever as you. She also plunders others’ fortune, but she took love as her entry point and in the end reaped her own bitter fruit.”

Compared to Ye Cong Xin, the goddess’s methods were far superior; at least the goddess did not have to don a mask every day and scrape and flatter others.

The goddess could not hide her astonishment. She murmured, “How could that be? It should not be so,” and her gaze went vague, as if some long-held certainty had cracked.

Yu Zhao rapped her knuckles against the statue’s head and said: “Your turn.”

The goddess closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she had returned to that aloof, untouchable poise. She said: “I learned my art from my mother. She hails from Donglai Immortal Isle in the Great Thousand World. Children born on the isle are taught from an early age to practice the Fortune-Gazing Art and the Fortune-Devouring Art.”

“The Fortune-Devouring Art?” Yu Zhao said.

Memories of Ye Cong Xin flashed across her mind. Those people who had vanished without a trace might well have died under that very art.

Ancestor Sui Bian, however, was more interested in the Fortune-Gazing Art. He pointed at Old Black Daoist and said: “You can truly see through our fortunes? Then tell me, between me and him, whose fortune is stronger?”

Old Black Daoist affected indifference, but his ears pricked up. “Yours,” the goddess answered without the slightest doubt.

Before Ancestor Sui Bian could burst out laughing, Old Black Daoist exploded first and said: “All that fortune talk is formless nonsense. It does not count for anything. I will not believe such drivel.”

“Fortune is neither immutable nor illusory,” the goddess said evenly. “Among the few of you, your fortune is the worst, which is why you are impoverished. As for her—” She lifted her eyes to Yu Zhao above and said, complicated emotions in her gaze: “Among everyone I have ever seen, she has the greatest fortune. I did not lose to you. I lost to her, to a heaven-ordained one.”

All three turned to look at Yu Zhao. Yu Zhao could only return a polite smile, unsure what to say.

Ancestor Sui Bian let out a long breath, then loudly comforted himself: “It is fine, it is fine. Yu Zhao is a disciple of my Five Elements Dao Sect. If she is formidable, then my Five Elements Dao Sect is formidable. I am not jealous. Not one bit.”

Old Black Daoist’s eyes were nearly red with frustration. Where were the disciples of his Heavenly Sword Sect? One after another, not a single one could climb to the top. [Old daoist, I cannot hold on much longer.]

“You devour the fortunes of others,” Yu Zhao said, “surely there are limits?”

“Of course,” the goddess replied, a trace of reverence in her eyes. “Fortune is a gift from heaven. To forcefully disturb it invites backlash. Thus anyone who cultivates the Fortune-Devouring Art must accumulate merit to offset the sin.”

They were all taken aback. They had assumed anyone who cultivated such an art would be demonic, yet she spoke of doing good.

“So those blessings you bestowed…” Ancestor Sui Bian said.

“I gave a portion of the fortune I collected to cultivators on the verge of breaking through to help them advance more quickly. That, too, is a kind of merit,” the goddess said calmly.

Ancestor Sui Bian scratched his head and said: “You take in fortune on one hand and hand it out on the other. That feels awfully strange.”

Yu Zhao also found it strange. She had seen only plunder from Ye Cong Xin, never acts of charity. If they truly cultivated the same art, why was Ye Cong Xin not afraid of backlash? Her pupils tightened. [Unless the true practitioner of the Fortune-Devouring Art is someone else entirely, and Ye Cong Xin is only the puppet?] Her thoughts raced on: [If so, then the thing inside Ye Cong Xin might not be a malevolent spirit at all but a cultivator of the Fortune-Devouring Art. He borrows her body to devour fortune while hiding in the shadows to control everything. Once the time is ripe, he can cast off the puppet and let it bear heaven’s backlash.]

“The reason Donglai Immortal Isle is dubbed an isle of immortals,” the goddess said, “is that those who cultivate the Fortune-Devouring Art there have already transcended the realm of ordinary cultivators and set foot in the half-immortal state. They devour fortune to benefit more people, not for selfish ends.”