Chapter 117

117. Just Passing By

I was just passing through. That’s what I told myself.

But here I was again, sitting on the edge of a damn flower bed like a sulky teenager, letting the dust cling to my clothes, totally out of place among all these tidy Taoists.

Ever since that disaster in Donghai City, everything had gone downhill. The jade-buying gig I used to dominate? Useless. It was like the Vermilion Bird’s power had just… ghosted me. Poof. Gone.

Sure, I could still pull off a trick or two—decades of practice don’t vanish overnight—but the real magic? The part that made me someone? That was gone. And the rich folk who once groveled at my feet? They’d gone colder than a jade tombstone.

No one could explain it. My master’s sect had held so many emergency meetings you’d think I was dying. All they managed to agree on was: “Something’s off.” Yeah, thanks, very helpful.

Still, I couldn’t shake this weird feeling. That zoo director—Duan Jiazhe—and his crew were ordinary, powerless nobodies… right? But something had gone very wrong the day I crossed paths with them. And now, with the International Taoist Forum going on, I figured it couldn’t hurt to poke around and maybe find someone who could finally make sense of it all.

I didn’t expect much.

And I definitely didn’t expect him.

——

Duan Jiazhe, of course, had no idea I was nearby. He was wandering around the restricted area of Linshui Monastery with a girl in tow—some bright-eyed civilian named Sun Ying. She looked like she belonged in a coffee shop, not a Taoist sanctuary. And Duan Jiazhe? He looked like he was on vacation.

Most folks here wore robes and walked around like they were floating on clouds. These two? Tourists. Clueless ones. Peeking into side halls, squinting at murals, whispering like kids in a museum. It was weirdly charming.

Until the misunderstanding exploded.

Some junior monk named Wu Zhi spotted them and threw a fit. Shouting down from a corridor like he was the main character in a cultivation drama. “You’re not allowed here!” And then Duan Jiazhe—calm as ever—went, “Don’t you know who I am?”

Heh. That poor monk. He had no clue.

What happened next was chaos in slow motion. Wu Zhi jumped down to confront him. The guy was showboating a little—smooth landing, flashy moves. But when he reached out to touch Duan Jiazhe, crack. Just like that, his hand snapped back like someone slapped him with lightning.

I felt it before I saw it. A ripple in the air. Something old. Dangerous. Familiar.

Everyone froze. Duan Jiazhe looked genuinely confused. The girl? Half in shock, half ready to call the cops.

And me?

I stepped forward.

“Stop!”

They turned toward me. Even Wu Zhi, who was curled up in pain, straightened when he saw me. That’s the thing about losing your power—you still keep the reputation. For a while, at least.

I called out to Duan Jiazhe. “Director Duan. Been a while.”

His eyes lit up with recognition. “Master Xie—perfect timing.”

The whole scene unraveled from there. He explained. I smoothed things over. Said a few words to calm the kids. Told them to get Wu Zhi treated and stop embarrassing themselves. And then something strange happened.

I realized I wasn’t angry.

Not at him. Not even at the strange, invisible force guarding him.

Because deep down, I knew it had saved me too.

——

Later, I watched them leave. Zhou Xintang came over too—her usual air of unshakable calm a little ruffled. She gave Duan Jiazhe the kind of deferential nod usually reserved for elder masters. It threw me for a loop.

I sat back on that same flower bed and watched them disappear down the path. When Duan Jiazhe turned around and said, “I hope your cultivation goes well,” I smiled, genuinely. Bitterly. But genuinely.

He didn’t know. Didn’t need to know. But maybe… maybe the heavens did.

——

After dinner, he dropped the girl off at her room.

I could imagine her. Starry-eyed, giddy from the whole incident. “Jiajia,” she probably said, “Did you seriously take down all those monks? Have you been training?”

Poor guy.

He probably dodged the question. Said something snarky about red envelopes. She might’ve even blushed.

I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

——

Meanwhile, back in his room, Duan Jiazhe crashed face-first onto the bed. Probably scrolling through cat videos or food delivery apps. I was just starting to drift off when I felt it—another ripple. Something pressing, then fading.

That damn crow.

I didn’t even have to ask to know who was behind the earlier hand-snapping stunt.

Lu Ya.

Of course it was him.

Later, Duan Jiazhe woke up with a start. Sat up too fast, and bam—headbutted Lu Ya in the face.

“You’re crazy,” he groaned.

“You’re weak,” Lu Ya replied, utterly unfazed.

Typical.

And when Duan Jiazhe demanded answers, Lu Ya just shrugged. “I was passing by.”

Right. Just casually walking through sacred grounds during an international summit. Like a divine crow taking a stroll between ancient trees.

When Duan Jiazhe asked who broke Wu Zhi’s hand, Lu Ya smirked, “If it were me, they wouldn’t still be breathing.”

That… was fair.

Eventually, he handed the phone off to Ling Guang, who admitted it was his doing.

“To protect you,” he said. “You carry the feathers of the Golden Crow and the skin of a thousand-year-old serpent. They touch you, they bleed. Seems fair.”

Duan Jiazhe didn’t even argue. He just sighed. “You again.”

——

At the end of the day, it was all one big misunderstanding. No real harm done. Just a few egos bruised, a hand or two broken, and a very bewildered zoo director left wondering when his life had turned into a fantasy novel.

Me?

I just watched it all, quietly.

And for the first time in a long while… I didn’t feel like the main character anymore.

I was just passing by. And maybe that was enough.