After polishing off my meal and weaving back through Shaanxi's twilight streets, I rounded the corner to my shop—and froze. There, silhouetted against the lantern's faint glow, stood a figure draped in a cloak much like my own, hood drawn low as if mirroring my eternal disguise.
"Hm?"
Even from a distance, they seemed to sense my approach, their head snapping toward me with unnerving precision. No casual glance, that—more like a predator's lock, honed by instinct or worse.
"Here for a reading?"
The figure shifted, fabric rustling softly. "Are you that fortune teller they call the Faceless Golden Ghost?"
A wry huff escaped me. "Not my favorite moniker, but yes—that's the one."
"Hoh, fascinating." The voice emerged feminine, smooth as polished jade yet edged with quiet authority. "Your face really can't be seen, can it?"
"Come on in first," I said, gesturing to the door with a tilt of my head. "We can talk about your business slowly."
I ushered her inside, the incense-heavy air closing around us like a confidential veil. She settled into the chair with graceful economy, while I claimed my spot across the scarred table, the space between us a neutral ground for secrets.
"So, what brings you here?" I leaned forward, falling into the familiar rhythm. "Birth chart? Love's tangled paths? Blessings for children? Exam fortunes? Anything else is fair game too."
"They say your reputation for accuracy has spread beyond Shaanxi's borders," she replied, her tone probing like a needle's tip. "Is it true you never get it wrong?"
"Ah... unfortunately, no." I shook my head, the mask shifting slightly against my skin. "How could a lowly trickster like me fully grasp the will of the gods of heaven and earth? I can only glimpse a fraction—a shimmer on the surface. But I guarantee it won't be completely useless."
"Hm..."
A faint smile curled at the corner of the woman's mouth, barely visible in the hood's shadow, like moonlight teasing through clouds.
What's this?
It caught me off guard. A first, in all my years of this trade. Most patrons deflated at the humility, their hopes dimming like guttered candles, or waved it off with pleas to "stop being so modest." This cryptic curve of lips? It felt like a new weave entirely—amused, perhaps, or appraising.
"I like it," she murmured, the words carrying a lilt of approval. "Alright, you said you can see anything?"
"I'll do my best, whatever you request."
"Then... read my fortune."
I'd braced for some grand entreaty—a kingdom's fate, a rival's downfall—but it landed plain as river water. Just a standard divination. Guess she's an odd one, then. No matter; the stars didn't discriminate.
Clack clack clack clack.
I spilled the eight wooden tablets across the table, their etched faces catching the lamplight in familiar patterns.
"The Eight Trigrams," she observed softly, a note of recognition threading her voice. "A classic method."
"..."
Maybe she's not just weird—maybe she's a martial artist.
The thought prickled, though the qi I sensed—or rather, didn't—from her felt utterly ordinary, a still pond without ripples. No thunderous aura, no veiled menace. Still...
"...Alright, then..."
"If it's not rude," she interjected, her gloved hand extending slightly, "could I touch your hand for a moment?"
"...Customer?"
"Oh, sorry." A soft laugh, almost apologetic. "I got a little excited."
What is this woman?
Ugh...
If Tang Ayeon were here, she'd have sized her up and shooed her out with a flick of veiled steel or a sharper word. I'd picked up a few hidden weapon tricks under her wing, sure—but tangling with a potential martial artist? My nerves weren't forged for that gamble.
"Here. Go ahead and touch it briefly."
"Ooh, thank you."
I extended my hand across the table, palm up in reluctant offering. Her fingers closed around it—soft as a woman's touch should be, yet laced with an undercurrent of hardness, like silk over iron. The calluses... gods, they were etched deep, unmistakable even in the dim light. Sword-hilt worn, or staff-grip scarred—marks of a life in steel's embrace.
Good thing I didn't try anything reckless.
Relief washed through me as she traced the lines, her grip lingering a beat too long. I wondered idly how much longer she'd probe when her voice cut the silence, low and probing.
"Have you ever studied under a sect?"
Ten Years Ago.
This was before Master had scooped me from the gutter's edge, before her gruff lessons had stitched any semblance of purpose into my unraveling days.
"Well, your dantian's wrecked," she'd said one evening, her eyes narrowing as she pressed qi-probing fingers to my abdomen. "So teaching you martial arts will be tough."
"...What?"
The faint spark of hope I'd nursed—that fragile dream of qi flows and soaring leaps—shattered in that instant, scattering like ash on wind.
"What in the world happened to ruin your dantian like this?" She'd withdrawn her hand, brow furrowing in that mix of pity and exasperation she wore so well. "If it had never formed because you'd skipped the basics, that'd be one thing—but it's clearly been forged once... and then shattered."
"...You mean me?"
"Yes, you, brat." Her tone brooked no nonsense, sharp as a whetstone's kiss.
"..."
Of course I didn't know. When my eyes had fluttered open in this borrowed shell, I'd been a half-corpse in some fetid alley, breaths ragged and fever-hot. I'd clawed through survival by sheer spite until Master stumbled upon me—how could I unravel this husk's tangled history?
"Well, it's understandable that you wouldn't know," she conceded, her gaze softening a fraction. "It's not your body, after all."
"...!"
"Why so shocked?" She arched a brow, unperturbed. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
"How did you—"
I hadn't schemed to conceal it, not truly—but neither had I paraded the truth like a banner. Who'd swallow such madness? Another world, soul-snatched into this frail cage? They'd cart me off to the nearest healer's ward, muttering of demons or delusions.
"It's not obvious at a glance," she explained, tapping her temple with a callused finger, "but if I examine you closely, I can tell. Your soul and body aren't in harmony—they're misaligned, like a blade jammed into the wrong sheath."
"Master... I didn't mean to—"
"What are you scared of?" She waved it off, her laugh a rough bark that echoed off the mountain hut's walls. "It's not a big deal."
"...You don't think I stole this body?"
"If someone capable of such advanced sorcery wanted a vessel, they'd have plucked a better one—warrior's frame, peak qi reserves. No reason to slum it in this." She eyed me sidelong, a ghost of amusement flickering. "When I found you, you were practically a corpse, weren't you?"
"..."
"Well, your looks are decent, at least."
A body with nothing to commend it but its shell—small, frail, a reed in the gale. And now, martial paths barred forever.
Why the hell did I end up like this...?
If this transmigration was some cosmic penalty for earthly sins, I might've swallowed the bitterness. But hurled blind into alien flesh, alien winds, scraping for every dawn? It burned like salt in an open wound.
"...Master."
"What?"
"Didn't you say yesterday I was like a lump of fermented soybeans?"
"..."
For some reason, that night birthed a nightmare—twisted and cloying, the kind that yanked me half-awake into her arms, burrowing there like a child fleeing the dark.
"...No."
"Oh, my apologies." She released my hand with a gentle squeeze, her voice threading regret like silk through thorns. "I saw a familiar trace and got curious."
It was an incredibly rude question, prying at a stranger's shadows like a thief at locks. Asking if they'd trained under a sect? Impolite enough to warrant a frosty glare or a booted exit. But against someone whose calluses whispered of lifetimes in the forge of blades—ridiculously strong, by the feel—I lacked the spine to bristle.
Her grips were no jest. Sword-callused, through and through.
"If your curiosity's satisfied," I said, flexing my fingers to shake off the echo of her touch, "can I give you the reading now?"
"Hoh, it's done already?" Surprise colored her tone, soft as a held breath. "Faster than I expected."
"I've been doing this in the mountains for ten years," I replied, gathering the tablets with practiced sweeps. "The gods of heaven and earth seem to favor me."