What's happening?
The crowd waiting for the ferry was large, and a barrage of smells assaulted Li Yan's nose: the tobacco reek from an old man, the perfumed powder of a woman, the stench of sweat, the fishy odor of the docks, the rot of weathered wood.
The sensation was almost overwhelming.
Li Yan nearly stumbled from the intensity.
He realized his divine sense of smell had surged again.
Since that life-or-death fight with the Cold Altar Ghost Soldier, this was the third explosive enhancement in a short time.
Beyond the mundane scents, he detected others, more peculiar.
Hundreds of meters from the docks, a cold, cloying smell lingered, as if left by some sinister entity, untouched by the lapping waves…
On the Boat Gang's large vessel, someone at the bow burned incense, tied red cloth, scattered paper money, and poured animal blood, a fiery aura swirling around the ship's prow…
Most terrifying was Xianyang City itself in the distance.
It loomed like a beast on the plain, exuding an ancient, desolate scent, interwoven with the heavy aroma of incense from within.
Each one was dozens of times stronger than the incense at the Li Family Village's Earth Temple.
Was this the real world?
Li Yan's heart trembled with awe.
Since awakening his divine sense of smell last year, he hadn't even set foot in Lantian County, let alone Chang'an City, staying confined to the Li Family Village.
Now in Xianyang, the difference was stark.
No wonder Widow Wang and her ilk hid in remote villages like his. In a place like Chang'an, they'd be exposed instantly, drawing their enemies.
Suddenly, Li Yan's vision darkened.
A wave of dizziness hit, and his heightened sense of smell vanished.
He grabbed a nearby willow tree, steadying himself as he caught his breath.
His face darkened, and he cursed inwardly.
Clearly, this divine power came at a cost.
Widow Wang hadn't mentioned it, perhaps unaware that his sense of smell would surge so unpredictably.
Worse, it was now out of control.
Anything out of control was trouble.
He had to fix it, fast.
"The boat's here!"
The boatman's shout broke his thoughts.
Thankfully, his sense of smell had shut off. Though his head spun and sweat beaded on his back, Li Yan headed for the ferry.
The boat was small, about seven or eight meters long, with no canopy for shade.
After paying the fare, Li Yan found a spot to sit.
A breeze swept across the river, carrying snippets of nearby villagers' chatter:
"Aunt Wang, why aren't you harvesting? What brings you to the city?"
"I hired Longyou cutters this year. Gotta burn some incense in the city, pray for no rain these days, then head back…"
"Your family's got plenty of strong hands."
"Don't get me started. My second and third sons ran off to Tianjin, saying the factories there pay well. Won't even be back for the New Year. I figure, with not much land, the eldest can manage. The younger ones need something to aim for…"
Li Yan had heard similar tales in the village.
The Daxuan Dynasty, a century old, was at its peak.
But beneath the prosperity, undercurrents stirred.
Land consolidation was rampant, and vagrants were growing. A decade ago, it sparked plenty of trouble.
Yet the court had opened the seas for trade, and port cities built large workshops, absorbing many displaced people.
Word was, the court itself was restless, factions forming and clashing.
Li Yan had no interest in such matters.
His focus was on resolving his current predicament.
After crossing the Wei River, his head cleared, and his sense of smell returned, though much weaker, like before he faced "Blind Third."
Ignoring it, he pulled his straw hat low and entered the city.
As the ancient Qin capital, records described it as having "detached palaces and pavilions, towers and terraces stretching over three hundred li, blotting out the sky."
Though war had reduced its size and it had been rebuilt multiple times, it remained vibrant. The moment he entered, a wave of bustling noise hit him.
Unlike Chang'an's orderly 108-ward grid, Xianyang's layout was irregular. Entering from the south gate near the docks, Li Yan stepped into a maze of crisscrossing commercial streets.
Shops lined the roads, their banners and signs fluttering, hawkers' cries unending. Mules, carts, and pedestrians from the docks wove through, creating a lively, chaotic scene.
Beggars were unavoidable.
Perhaps because of the blade at his waist, none bothered Li Yan. But unfamiliar merchants were swarmed by ragged beggar children the moment they entered.
Clad in tattered clothes, some missing limbs, they wailed, "Kind sir, may you profit a thousand gold!" or "Merciful lady, may you be blessed with children and grandchildren!"
Li Yan glanced over and walked on.
In the martial world, the Beggar Gang split into East and West branches.
The East branch were wandering beggars, performing for alms with tricks like "singing tunes," "martial chants," "praying to gods," or "roaming the five lakes."
These beggars drifted from place to place.
The West branch were local beggars, entrenched in a city, led by a beggar chief who took a cut of their daily haul.
East branch beggars, arriving in a city, had to pay respects at the West branch's den to gain permission to perform, and still faced a cut.
Break the rules, and by nightfall, you'd be a corpse.
Among the West branch chiefs, many were "false beggars," inheriting control of the city's beggar dens. By day, they wore rags; by night, they donned fine silk, reveling in brothels and theaters.
Worse, some dabbled in human trafficking, dealing closely with the city's brokers.
They excelled at hard begging. Those pitiful-looking beggar children were ruthless, untouchable to ordinary folk.
Sure enough, when a merchant refused to pay, the children's faces turned. Banging broken bowls, they sang mocking lotus chants:
"No coin, I won't come, save your money for a coffin!"
"You don't give, I don't beg, let's see you squirm, you wretch!"
The furious merchant chased them, unaware his purse had already been lifted…
Of course, East branch wandering beggars were common too.
As Li Yan crossed the street, a blind old beggar was storytelling.
His cloudy eyes and weathered voice carried an ancient charm.
"Fame and fortune, fleeting as morning dew; glory and wealth, vague as mist."
"The world rolls like a tide—how many become immortals…"
"Ascend!"
---
"Excuse me, is Priest Wang Daoxuan here?"
Outside a small shop, Li Yan asked the owner.
Near the Xianyang City God Temple, most shops sold snacks, breakfast, or funeral goods—paper offerings, incense, candles, coffins, shrouds. There were also plenty of fortune-telling stalls.
The shop Li Yan approached was an incense and candle store, stocked with everything from simple clay incense to arm-thick ceremonial sticks, plain red and white candles to ornate dragon-and-phoenix ones, and piles of paper money and ingots.
The temple's heavy incense scent overwhelmed Li Yan, making his head spin, so he avoided it, following Sha Lifei's directions instead.
According to Sha Lifei, Wang Daoxuan ran a shop, taking any job—fortune-telling, geomancy, weddings, funerals, even demon-catching.
But the address led to a shop under new ownership.
Left with no choice, Li Yan asked around.
"Wang Daoxuan?"
The shop owner, a fat man with slanted eyes, looked puzzled, then lit up as if recalling something. "You mean Old Mopey Wang?"
He grinned. "He racked up debts, sold this shop to me, and now runs his business from home."
Old… Mopey Wang?!
Li Yan's face stiffened, anger rising.
Sha Lifei, that unreliable fool.
He'd mentioned Wang Daoxuan took any job, likely a hack, but at least a mystic who could offer some leads.
But from the owner's words, he sounded even worse than imagined.
In debt, couldn't even keep his shop…
The name Wang Daoxuan was probably a self-aggrandizing alias, like Sha Lifei's!
Already grappling with his out-of-control divine power, Li Yan's frustration flared.
The owner, sensing an opportunity, stepped closer with a smile. "Looking for fortune-telling or funeral arrangements? Tell me, I know every shop on this street. I can get you a deal…"
"Thanks, maybe later."
The offer sounded nice, but Li Yan wasn't buying it.
He'd met plenty like this. Peers tore each other down, and customers? They'd fleece you without mercy.
Besides, one whiff told him the shop's goods were ordinary—no trace of incense aura on the idols, just amateur stuff.
Sure enough, when Li Yan showed no interest, the owner's demeanor cooled.
Li Yan's eyes flickered, feigning anger as he cupped his fists. "I've got a score to settle with Old Mopey Wang. Where is he?"
The owner glanced at the blade on Li Yan's waist, a glint of schadenfreude in his eyes. He pointed. "Easy. See that alley? Three hundred meters in, right side, the Inquiry Hall."
---
The owner's directions led to an old residential alley.
As Li Yan entered, he saw quaint, modest houses, each with its own courtyard, clearly homes of common folk.
Many courtyard walls were built with reclaimed Qin bricks from ancient Xianyang, paired with weathered bluestone paths, giving the place an antique charm.
Three hundred meters in, he found it.
A sign hung above an old house's gate.
Made of plain jujube wood, lightly varnished, it was humbler than a tavern's sign. Yet the words "Inquiry Hall" were carved in a rugged, vigorous style, surprisingly refined.
Li Yan's anger eased slightly.
Then he sniffed.
The small courtyard held several distinct, unusual scents…
**(End of Chapter)**