After bidding farewell, Lu Ding gave Yan Feifan final instructions to draft a commendation document praising Kagu Muto for Tai Island's benefit before returning to Wu City to find Elder Deng.

The two chatted casually. Eventually, Elder Deng urged Lu Ding to attend to his own affairs, and only then did Lu Ding depart. Watching him fly toward Yunhai's direction, Elder Deng crossed his arms, speculating that Lu Ding was probably going to Yunhai to find that crooked-mouth, squinty-eyed old Taoist.

He felt somewhat displeased. There was this nagging feeling that the not-so-proper old priest might lead Lu Ding astray. Displeased, very displeased, extremely displeased—the more he thought about it, the more displeased he became. If not for Lu Ding being the intermediary, given Elder Deng's temper, he would have gone to pick a fight with Crooked-Mouth Old Man regardless of the consequences.

Returning to Yunhai, most of Yunhai's 749 Bureau investigators had already been deployed to the frontlines. The bureau was sparsely populated now, with the majority remaining being non-combat personnel and a small contingent left to guard the base.

Following the director's directions, Lu Ding navigated through the bureau's corridors until he reached a small courtyard deep inside—the secluded cultivation space specially approved for Crooked-Mouth Old Man. After all, not only did the old man have prior connections with the director, but he also shared a good relationship with Lu Ding.

Approaching the door, Lu Ding knocked gently before speaking into the voice intercom: "Old man, are you awake?"

The moment the voice reached inside, Crooked-Mouth Old Man's eyes—slightly unfocused—snapped open instantly. The familiar voice stirred excitement in him. His body lurched sideways, and he tumbled off the bed with a series of thuds.

"Ouch... my leg's numb..." the old man grumbled while rubbing his foot. Logically, at his cultivation level, his body shouldn't go numb no matter how long he remained still. But who told him to get struck by heavenly lightning? Eager to recover quickly, the residual heavenly lightning energy in his body reacted to his agitation—of course it would make him numb!

Dragging his numb leg, he limped out of the room. At first glance, Lu Ding couldn't help but remark: "Old man, you... got injured again?" The old injuries hadn't even healed, yet new ones appeared?

Crooked-Mouth Old Man grinned crookedly: "Heh heh heh... no big deal, just an old leg problem. Nothing serious." The prideful old man would never admit that residual heavenly lightning was giving him trouble.

Lu Ding eyed the old man skeptically but said nothing, simply unlatched the courtyard gate, and entered. Inside, when the old man moved to brew tea, Lu Ding stopped him: "No need, old man. I won't be staying long."

The old man's hand paused mid-air: "Leaving so soon? How about a meal? I can whip up some stir-fried potato shreds—delicious stuff. Haven't gotten tired of it in centuries."

Seriously, old man? Did you survive centuries in that lightless underground palace solely on potato shreds?

Under the old man's expectant gaze, Lu Ding fell silent. Raising his head, he realized he couldn't quite match the old man's squint—it was physically impossible to tilt his eyes to that degree. With an awkward chuckle, he played along: "You know what? I wasn't hungry, but now that you mention it..."

This response absolutely delighted the old man, who clapped his hands: "Exactly! Food is fuel—three meals a day, a habit I've maintained for centuries. No wonder I've lived so long. It's all about knowledge."

Then he suddenly recalled that after divining Lu Ding's fate last time, he'd been so furious about his crooked mouth and eyes that he didn't eat for three days. Later, when calculating Lu Ding's fortune again, he got struck by lightning and trapped on a mountain, going days without food again. But... irrelevant! Doesn't matter!

"Wait here then, I'll cook those potato shreds for you," the old man said, limping toward the kitchen. Lu Ding followed and was greeted by the sight of an old-fashioned wood-fired stove. Rolling up his sleeves, he helped tend the fire while watching the old man peel and slice potatoes with practiced ease.

As he fed the flames, Lu Ding mentioned: "Old man, I brought some restorative medicine for your injuries. Take it to recover your cultivation faster."

The old man had been proudly showcasing his impeccable knife skills when he abruptly paused. "No need, no need. What does an old man like me need medicine for? Minor injuries, all minor."

Despite his words, his hands immediately abandoned the knife and potatoes, repeatedly wiping themselves on his apron. At his age and cultivation level, such things hardly held any appeal—otherwise, Chu Gexiao would have sponsored him long ago. But this came from Lu Ding. The giver's identity imbued the gift with special value.

Lu Ding couldn't help but smile—Crooked-Mouth Old Man truly was born to be an entertainer. From the red coffin, he retrieved the incomplete antlers of the five-colored deer. Had Cao Ying been present, he'd surely have exclaimed: "Holy shit, I know this one!"

Of course, only a small portion was missing—a fraction Lu Ding had separated into boxes for Yan Feifan and Bai Hemen. He hadn't told them directly to avoid them realizing its preciousness and fighting over it, though he did leave explanatory notes in the boxes. The remaining majority was more than enough for the old man's needs.

When Lu Ding handed it over, the old man accepted it with uncharacteristic solemnity. Examining the antlers, then Lu Ding, he asked gravely: "These are five-colored deer antlers—a Tai Island specialty. Where did you get them?"

Other rare treasures might have been useless to him, and he'd assumed Lu Ding would offer something ordinary. Accepting it would have been about the gesture. But five-colored deer antlers? Emotions flooded the old man's heart, a turbulent mix he could barely contain.

Lu Ding replied casually: "Stole them from those 'island neighbors living quite comfortably'."

"Oh, impressive, truly impressive," the old man muttered. "Lu Ding, wait here, let me put these away properly."

Clutching the antlers, Crooked-Mouth Old Man hurried out, circling the courtyard before entering the room adjacent to the kitchen. Closing the door securely, he wiped his eyes: "He shouldn't be able to hear this, right?"

Then he burst into loud sobs!

"Wahhhhh... this old... this old Taoist has lived centuries... snivel... yet no one's ever treated me this kindly before..."

"Since childhood... no parents... wasted life following master... no children, no descendants... heaven pities me... after hundreds of years... to receive gifts from juniors... wahhhhh..."

Amidst his crying, he suddenly took a big bite of the antler—CRUNCH!

"Mmm... delicious... fragrant... wahhh..."

Then he froze.

Oh no! Disaster!

In his emotional outburst, he'd circled right back—wasn't the kitchen next door?! Hadn't the kid heard everything?!

Abandoning the antler, he rushed back to the kitchen to find Lu Ding sitting calmly by the stove, turning with an innocent expression: "Hmm? What's wrong, old man?"

The old Taoist's eyes darted about. His deeply wrinkled face hid his embarrassment, though internally he was boiling with shame. Still, he stubbornly insisted: "N-nothing... I'll cook those potato shreds now."