James Smith was quite happy and interjected to ask John Harris, “What exactly is your name?” Just from the hesitation the thief showed before making a move, it was clear he wasn’t very bold, and there’s no way he’d give his real name during a robbery. James Smith understood this well. He hadn’t had the chance to ask before, but now that things were more or less resolved, he casually brought it up.

“Little Daoist’s courtesy name is Six Pence, and my cave dwelling isn’t on Chilian Peak, but on Qixi Mountain where I cultivate.” The thief-daoist replied respectfully, then cautiously added, “Little Daoist friend… no, little ancestor, you are so kind and merciful. May I ask for your esteemed name? Someday I’d like to build a Longevity Shrine to offer prayers day and night in gratitude for sparing my life.”

“He’s called Charles Smith.” The always cold and expressionless black-robed figure suddenly chimed in, neither warmly nor coldly.

Six Pence had originally decided that no matter what the “little ancestor’s” name was, he would loudly praise it as a good name. But when he heard the three characters “Charles Smith,” the thief-daoist found himself at a loss for words.

The black robe continued to say to Six Pence, “Remember this name well. From now on, he is your master!”

James Smith was startled and was about to refuse, but the black robe sneered, “My sect has countless juniors and experts. With a single command, clouds gather from all directions, ready to obey my will. This little monster isn’t even qualified to be my sword slave.”

As he spoke, George Baker waved his hand, not allowing James Smith to speak further, and continued, “My punishment is done. If you have any punishment for this wretch, say it now.”

This old ancestor’s temperament was truly strange: you benefited from the thief, but it has nothing to do with you; I’m just punishing the thief.

James Smith asked the demon-daoist, “Do you know medicine?” The latter looked troubled and shook his head.

“Do you have millennium-old polygonatum?”

The demon-daoist was startled and shook his head again.

“Human-shaped fleeceflower root?”

“Longevity pills?”

“Life-extending powder?”

……

“Why do you have nothing at all?” James Smith asked about all the miraculous medicines written in the Records of Spirits and Ghosts, and finally shook his head in disappointment. “Do you have any money?”

He finally asked about something Six Pence actually had. The thief-daoist hurriedly nodded, “I have money in my cave dwelling. Little ancestor, do you need money? I’ll have my men send it over right away.”

James Smith shook his head. He was going to work with his benefactor, so he didn’t need money: “To the east, in Baima Town, Cizhou, at the end of Tiaoshi Street, there’s a widow named Song. Have someone send the money there for her child’s medical treatment.”

Six Pence rolled his eyes, thinking, “Unfortunately, I just invested my main capital in a business deal, so I can only take out less than twenty thousand taels right now. I’m not sure if that’s enough. If not, it’s fine, I’ll go rob—uh, borrow—some more.”

James Smith sighed. He’d worked as a reserve constable for a year and only earned five taels in wages, yet this thieving daoist had a fortune of twenty thousand taels, and had just invested his main capital… It really wasn’t fair. James Smith shook his head, “Three thousand taels is enough for Widow Song to take her child to the capital to see a famous doctor and for mother and son to live in comfort for life. As for the rest, have your men distribute it in Baima Town. Except for those few wealthy households, everyone else is having a hard time.”

Six Pence immediately nodded, took out a paper crane from his robe, muttered a few words, and the paper crane flapped its wings and flew away.

With this matter temporarily settled, the black-robed ancestor said blandly, “Let’s go.”

James Smith was once again carried onto the back of the black hawk. That Six Pence daoist, without his flying sword or magical treasures, was no match for the naturally winged, spirit-cultivated divine hawk, so he had to ride the hawk together with the “little ancestor.”

As for the “slave-sealing” spell James Smith mentioned, it wasn’t an ordinary technique. The black robe’s shadow alone couldn’t perform it; the real body had to do it in person at the destination.

This time, the ancestor didn’t disappear immediately. His spiritual projection rode the wind, following alongside the black hawk. He didn’t watch the road, but kept his gaze on James Smith. After flying for a while, the ancestor suddenly spoke, “Earlier, did you mistake the black hawk for me?”

James Smith scratched his head and chuckled, tacitly admitting it.

The black robe pondered for a moment and said, “That leap of yours wasn’t bad. When we arrive, I’ll have another reward for you.” As he finished speaking, the ancestor’s figure trembled, and his spiritual projection vanished.

The divine hawk soared through the sky, its wings spanning a thousand miles, flying swiftly westward once more…

After flying for a long time, James Smith gradually grew bored and turned to ask the thief-daoist Six Pence, “Who is the ancestor?”

Six Pence had been worrying about how to strike up a conversation with the little ancestor. Hearing this, his spirits lifted, but then his eyes flickered and he hesitated, “Well… when there’s a chance, it’s best if you ask the ancestor yourself. Since he hasn’t told you his identity, I don’t dare reveal it lightly.”

James Smith didn’t press him and let the matter drop.

But Six Pence took this as an opening and began to chat, first testing the waters with James Smith, “Little ancestor, you may not know… I may be unworthy, but I’ve always been an honest man. You may not believe it, but this is the first time in my life I’ve ever stolen. Who would have thought… well… it just shows that I’m fated to meet you, little ancestor.”

James Smith couldn’t help but laugh. This thief-daoist was quite the talker, even tying his robbery to fate.