In the streets of Linzi, the old fortune teller who had read Jiang Wang's face slipped into the crowd and out of sight.
When he appeared again, he was in a mysterious space.
A Star River stretched across the heavens above, and an intricate star chart lay beneath.
The space extended in every direction, its night-dark currents rippling without end.
The star chart, woven from lines of starlight, resembled a web suspended in midair. Beneath it—and even higher than the Star River—stretched an endless darkness.
The old man known as God-Withered Man-Thin narrowed his eyes at the young Daoist standing before him.
The youth had a tender, youthful face, but his eyes seemed to hold a flowing Star River, boundless and vast.
He wore a Daoist robe patterned with a dense star chart, and a dark jade hairpin held his Daoist topknot in place.
In both appearance and bearing, he outclassed the old man by far.
The old man curled his lip. "Ruan Qiu! Why are you blocking my way?"
The master of Linzi's tallest tower, the Star-Gazing Tower.
The director of the Imperial Observatory, whose name was Ruan Qiu!
This youth who looked no older than a boy had such a distinguished identity!
"I should be the one asking you," Ruan Qiu said coolly. "What have you come to Linzi for?"
Beside Ruan Qiu, the old man in coarse hemp clothes looked shabby and listless in every way.
Yet his words carried plenty of confidence. "I haven't harmed Heaven or reason, nor taken a life. Surely I don't have to report every little thing to you."
Ruan Qiu gave him a look devoid of joy or sorrow. The star chart beneath their feet suddenly shone a little brighter.
"Fine, fine." The old man said with a disgruntled air, "If