Volume One, Chapter 13: The Nine-Faced Shadow

“By the way, can you hide yourself like you did before?” Montage suddenly asked. After all, Nine-Faced’s appearance was far too terrifying—if he followed Montage around, it was inevitable that someone would notice. The best solution would be for him to conceal himself, ready to appear at a moment’s call. That way, Montage could be protected without worrying about being discovered.

“Is the director concerned that I’ll be noticed?” Nine-Faced immediately understood Montage’s meaning. His body began to melt away, finally dissolving into a shadowy mass. Unless one looked closely, it was impossible to detect.

“Nine-Faced’s ability to conceal himself is impressive. Unless he deliberately exposes himself, most people won’t even notice him. You can let him merge into your shadow,” Ankang explained.

“Is that possible?” Montage’s eyes brightened. He didn’t fear much else, but he was most worried about being discovered by Yue Shan and the others. After all, they had seen Nine-Faced’s corpse before. If they realized Nine-Faced was alive, it would be impossible to explain.

After leaving the mind-space, Nine-Faced automatically merged into Montage’s shadow. Montage lowered his head and studied it closely, discovering that it was indistinguishable from any other shadow.

“Ouch~” Montage was so absorbed in observing his shadow that he collided with someone and fell to the ground. Looking up, he saw another person lying opposite him. This person was unusual: hair and beard as white as snow, with the bearing of an immortal sage, but dressed in a tattered Taoist robe and holding a cloth banner.

Written boldly across the banner: “Only for those fated!”

“Sorry, I was a bit distracted and didn’t notice,” Montage quickly stood and apologized.

“No worries, no worries!” The old Taoist brushed the dirt from his clothes, unconcerned.

Montage nodded in apology and prepared to leave.

“Wait, young man,” the old Taoist suddenly called out.

“What is it?” Montage looked at him, puzzled.

“I sense fate between us—how about I divine your fortune?” The old Taoist stroked his beard, looking every bit the immortal.

“How much?” Montage asked.

“Three hundred!”

“Farewell!”

“Hey, don’t go! At least make a counteroffer—I might agree!” The old Taoist hurried to block him.

“Five yuan, at most!” Montage was anxious to get to the college entrance exam, so he blurted it out, hoping the old man would give up.

“Deal!” Unexpectedly, the old Taoist agreed instantly.

“???” Now it was Montage’s turn to be stunned. Bargaining from three hundred down to five—was the profit margin in this business really that high?

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry, no time for fortune-telling,” Montage said apologetically.

“No problem, we can walk and talk. But could you pay me first?” The old Taoist blinked at Montage and added, “I haven’t eaten all day, you see?”

Montage was speechless. He’d never seen a fortune-teller demand payment upfront. Seeing the old man’s ragged clothes and advanced age, his heart softened. He took out his only five yuan—the money for lunch—and handed it over.

The old Taoist beamed with delight as he received the money.

“So, young man, do you want a character reading or palmistry?”

“No need, I’m in a hurry, Taoist. If fate allows, we’ll meet again.” Montage didn’t have time for fortune-telling and jogged away.

“Don’t rush, I’m a man of principle. If I take money, I must divine your fortune!” The old Taoist quickly followed.

“…Fine, guess how many people are in my family. If you get it right, I’ll believe you,” Montage said helplessly.

“You’re an orphan!” The old Taoist calculated and declared.

“Get lost!” Montage was so angry he nearly kicked him. Who curses people like that?

“Wrong guess?” The old Taoist smiled awkwardly, scratching his head. Montage had no time to waste and quickened his pace, disappearing around a corner.

The old Taoist watched Montage’s departing figure, stroked his beard, and muttered, “What a pity—I couldn’t fool him.”

A gust of wind fluttered the banner in his hand, revealing a line of small characters beneath: “I only tell fortunes, no guarantees.” Signed: Huang the Half-Immortal.

Haicheng High School.

The entrance was crowded with students, all here for the college entrance exam. Security guards from the Public Order Bureau patrolled, armed, posted every ten steps, with sentries every five. This was to prevent trouble. After all, the exam would decide their futures. Some couldn’t bear the psychological pressure and might act out.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” Montage squeezed through the throng, heading for the examination entrance.

“Bang!” Montage accidentally collided with someone, as if hitting a wall, and was knocked backward. He looked up and met the person’s gaze. In that instant, Montage felt as if his body had frozen solid.

“Director, this person has murderous intent toward you. Shall I deal with him?” Nine-Faced’s voice sounded in Montage’s mind.

“Murderous intent?” Montage was stunned. He’d merely bumped into the man—surely that didn’t warrant murder? But the look in the man’s eyes was chilling, nothing a normal person could possess.

“Forget it, the exam is more important.” With the test about to start, Montage pushed the thought aside and hurried into the examination hall.

Hidden within the shadow, Nine-Faced’s eyes glinted. He quietly split off a trace of power, marking that person.

Anyone who dared show murderous intent toward his master must die!

That was his duty as a servant.

His master’s kindness did not extend to him.

Outside the exam hall, in an inconspicuous corner.

On a sweltering day, a group of people wearing masks and baseball caps clustered together. Despite the oddity, no one nearby turned to look—they seemed invisible.

“Did you mark them all?” a deep voice asked.

“All done. Not a single candidate missed,” another replied.

If Montage were there, he’d recognize the man before him as the one who’d looked at him with murderous intent.

“Are we really going to do this? There are hundreds of guards—all armed. If we’re exposed, we’ll die for sure.”

“We’ve come this far. Isn’t it too late to be afraid now?”

“That’s right. The elder said this was our trial. If we succeed, he’ll help us become true ‘Sequencers.’ Then we can do whatever we want—no one can stop us.”

They were all from society’s lowest rung, laboring at the most thankless jobs, earning just enough to scrape by. Until a month ago, when a man calling himself ‘Ace of Spades’ appeared. He told them if they completed nine tasks, they could rise above their station.

And for each task completed, they’d receive a reward.

At first, they didn’t believe him, thinking he was simply toying with them.

Until one drunken fellow, on a whim, completed a task.

‘Ace of Spades’ appeared and granted him a supernatural power on the spot.