Three Visits to Scorched-Tail Hall-Are You Its Master?

Before a Daoist hall, the autumn sun hung slantwise from the eaves, bathing the place in a warm glow.

Fang Shu glanced at the charred-black plaque above the gates. Its vermilion-painted background was streaked with scorch marks, and upon it were the three words: "Scorched-Tail Hall."

He made his way inside with practiced familiarity.

Only, unlike before, the female Daoist with the whisk, Xiao Lili, did not come out promptly to receive him this time.

And since this was someone else's Daoist hall, Fang Shu could not conveniently enter directly, lest he violate some taboo and invite trouble.

He could only wait outside the hall to see whether anyone from Scorched-Tail Hall would come out to take over.

But Fang Shu did not simply stand there like a fool. He paced through the open ground nearby, strolling about.

During the time he waited, figures continually passed by his side.

One of them gave him several extra looks, then suddenly turned and headed toward him.

The fellow crept along on tiptoe, apparently intending to give him a fright. Yet before he had come within thirty feet of Fang Shu, Fang Shu sensed him and turned his head for a look.

A gaunt youth appeared before Fang Shu. Who else could it be but Yin Xiaojian, the toad-like youth?

Yin Xiaojian assumed Fang Shu had merely happened to turn and spot him.

A bored smile surfaced on his face. Then he briskly approached Fang Shu, raised a brow, and said, "Brother Fang, you've come again. I already told you last time—if the hall takes on disciples, I'll naturally let you know beforehand."

Yin Xiaojian spoke familiarly, his voice carrying a hint of reproach. "Look at you. You've made another wasted trip, haven't you? There's still one or two months to go."

Seeing