“Tsk, what did I say, Mr. Foster? Old Sage saw through it at a glance.” Fat Ralph hit the nail on the head, pointed his thumb at Old Man and started talking, directly attributing it to some strange ability of Sage.

“Exactly, nothing can be hidden from The Elder.” Chad’s Old Roy chimed in, looking at Old Man with eyes full of admiration.

It was said that when Sage farted, it was extraordinary, and his words were even more remarkable—one sentence and he found the right person. The three who had been muttering for a while now looked at each other in silence, but from their confused expressions, it was clear they couldn’t tell truth from falsehood.

Just then, the Old Man who called himself Ethan Sullivan smiled calmly, turned back and cupped his hands to his two companions, apologizing that he’d join them shortly. The two companions, seemingly used to being stopped for fortune-telling, smiled and left first. As soon as they left, seeing Fat Foster about to speak, the Old Man raised his hand to stop him, and with great poise, smiled and said, “This Young Foster, don’t rush, let me speak first. Fortune-telling is a matter of belief—if you believe, it’s real; if not, it’s nothing. I’m not here to make a living off this, not after your money… If you really want me to tell your fortune, I’ll only speak the truth. If you don’t hear good things, don’t blame me.”

“No blame, no blame…” Fat Foster shook his head like a little drum, glancing at his companions as if seeking their opinion.

Seeking what? The onlooking Young Man was suppressing a laugh. These three chubby guys looked silly but weren’t fools. They had just agreed to keep quiet and test the fortune-teller, since there were too many scammers these days. But as soon as Old Man appeared, he found the right person, Fat Foster, and didn’t care about the money, which seemed to have caught the three off guard. Even the Young Man leaning on the bench and watching was surprised—the more Old Man acted this way, the more he seemed to have some real skills.

And he guessed right—there really was something to it. The three chubby guys were stunned, and Old Man seemed to notice their hesitation. Smiling, he patted Fat Foster on the shoulder and reassured him: “This Young Foster, let’s keep it simple. I’ll read your birth date and eight characters. See if I’m accurate—if I am, you can ask more… Come, sit here…”

As he spoke, he led Fat Foster to sit on a nearby bench, turning his back to the Young Man who had been watching the show. Once seated, the other two—one chubby, one thin—stood nearby, staring curiously. When asked for his birth date and eight characters, Fat Foster was at a loss, but luckily had his ID card in his pocket, which he respectfully handed to Old Man. When asked about his birth time, he at least remembered that. As Old Man asked, he carefully traced two fingers across Fat Foster’s forehead, then held up both hands, pinching and prodding Fat Foster’s chubby face, then took his plump hand and felt it all over. Throughout the process, Old Man didn’t say a word, and Fat Foster, dumbfounded, didn’t dare ask. After asking about his birth date and examining his face and palm, Old Man closed his eyes, pinched a hand sign with his right hand, and his lips moved as if chanting something. The fortune-seekers were completely mystified. The chubby one called Ralph Porter whispered solemnly that this was the ancient Sage’s “Heaven-Turning Seal,” able to communicate with the divine and tell past and future lives, which made the other three even more awed.

Real or fake? In this day and age, is there still a market for such superstitions? The nearby Young Man didn’t really believe it, but Old Man’s mysterious demeanor made him pay closer attention.

After a moment, Old Man opened his eyes, and it seemed as if a sharp light shot from them, startling the two chubby guys standing in front of him. Then, with full confidence, Old Man handed the ID card back to Fat Foster and began his reading with a smile:

“David Foster, born in the year of Gengxu, month of Maosi, day of Sihou, hour of Chouwei. Born at the beginning of the Chou hour, you clash with your father; at the end, you clash with your mother. Judging from your eight characters, your fate palace is high and prominent, but your fortune is full of twists and turns. As for your previous generation—your parents—it should be a sign of ‘father alive, mother passed away first.’ Am I right?”

Hiss… The two chubby guys standing there, one a driver, clearly sucked in a cold breath, their necks stiffening, eyes widening, staring at Old Man in a mix of surprise and anger, their expressions indescribably strange. The chubby guy called David Foster, who had just taken his ID card, froze with his hand in midair, his eyes as big as ox bells, mouth agape, head tilted, staring dumbly at the fortune-telling Old Man, looking like he was about to explode.

Hearing this fortune, right off the bat he pronounced the man’s mother dead. If he guessed right, fine, but if not, isn’t he just asking for trouble!?

Even the nearby Young Man was startled to hear “father alive, mother passed away first.” Usually, fortune-tellers only say good things, not bad. If the man’s mother was still alive, there’d be a real scene.

Well, today’s guy is either a fool turned sage, or the sage among fools. The onlooking Young Man thought to himself, and seeing the sudden tension, quietly shifted his seat, ready to slip away at any moment. These three hefty guys and their sidekick looked like small-time bosses at least. No need to call for backup—just these four, weighing over a ton together, if they pounced, they’d tear Old Man’s skinny frame apart.

He shifted, quietly stood up, pretended to admire the lake view, and put a few meters between himself and the group, afraid of getting caught up in the mess…

Chapter 03: The Fortune Immortal’s Reading—Iron Mouth, Steel Teeth