Chapter 448 : Why Are You Carrying That, Father

Chapter 448: Why Are You Carrying That, Father?

They were all in on it.

The trickster showing off his sleight of hand, the people betting money, the shills setting the mood between them, and even the tout who brought us here—every single one of them was working together.

Everyone else, aside from them, were either people who had already lost their money or were about to.

"Alright, if you guess the bowl with the dice in it, you get triple your bet!"

The swindler was a short, middle-aged man, but his eyes were as sharp as any martial artist's.

Father asked me.

"Do you have money?"

"You don’t have any?"

He nodded.

"I don’t carry it around."

Fair point. It’s not like the Heavenly Demon would ever need to pull out a money pouch.

No way I could let this rare chance to tease Father pass me by.

"If you lose me and Uncle Hui, you won’t even have anyone to buy you food. So you’ll either dine and dash, or leave that sword as collateral and eat."

Just imagining Father like that was amusing.

"If you’re done teasing me—money."

Father held out his hand.

I took out one nyang from the pouch inside my robes and handed it to him.

"Bet wisely! That man is the Sword God and the War God in this alley. His hand moves faster than our eyes!"

Of course, there’s no hand fast enough to deceive Father’s eyes. That was just for the con artists to hear.

"Now, I’ll shuffle them."

The man opened each bowl one by one to show they were empty, then placed the die into one of them.

Opened it, closed it, moved it this way and that—the movements weren’t particularly fast, which somehow made it more confusing and suspicious.

Finally, the man’s hand stopped.

"Alright, which one would you like to bet on?"

Father placed one nyang in front of the middle bowl.

Could this be the first time in his life that Father was gambling on the street?

"Anyone else want to bet? Then I’ll reveal it."

When the man lifted the middle bowl, the die was there.

The hand wasn’t faster than the eye.

"Impressive eyes."

The swindler still had a relaxed air about him.

Was it because he hadn’t shown his full technique yet? Or was it a strategy to let people win gently at first before robbing them blind?

The tout who had been recruiting people came over and flattered Father for no reason.

"Martial artist, your eyes are truly sharp."

Father didn’t even look at him. What had his interest now were those three white bowls.

"Alright, shuffling again!"

The swindler shuffled the dice again. The die moved rapidly between the bowls.

This time, Father chose the one on the right.

"Anyone else going to bet?"

Again, Father bet alone.

When he lifted the bowl he had chosen, the die was there.

When Father guessed correctly in succession, the onlookers let out low exclamations.

Father's third choice.

He picked the bowl with the die again.

That was when I saw it—the swindler's faint expression of surprise.

He had clearly tried to mislead Father into picking the wrong bowl, but it didn’t work.

At the same time, I also saw something else—the cheerful smile forming at the corner of Father’s lips. He was genuinely enjoying playing along with these people.

“Father! That’s three wins in a row!”

Even the spectators started to show serious interest.

The swindler began shuffling the dice again. This time, his movements were even more cautious.

“He got it right again!”

Cheers of admiration erupted from the crowd. These weren’t shills, but genuine spectators now.

From the tout to the shills, their panic was now obvious. That swindler had probably never allowed anyone to win four times in a row before.

As glances darted rapidly among them, the dice were shuffled once more.

For the fifth round, others started placing bets following Father’s lead.

And Father got it right again. Applause poured in from all sides. Even passersby were now gathering to watch.

The gazes toward Father—until now, he had only received looks filled with reverence and fear. Had he ever been the recipient of such expectant stares from common street onlookers before? Of course not. These people would have never even dared to come this close to him.

“Alright, shuffling again!”

Father was genuinely enjoying himself. If he held any ill will toward them, he wouldn’t have kept betting just one nyang at a time.

He could have made them suffer much worse.

What if he had lost on purpose in the beginning—ten nyang, then twenty nyang—and at the end suddenly placed a thousand-nyang promissory note? If he then guessed correctly?

The problem wouldn’t be just that they lost money—it would be that, in trying not to pay, they might end up losing their lives.

But Father didn’t do that. He just kept betting one nyang at a time.

When he got the sixth round right, the crowd roared. And when he got the seventh round right too, the swindler’s face completely stiffened.

Eventually, the tout came over and quietly said,

“Um, sir... How about calling it here?”

Father looked at him. Just what kind of thoughts did Father have toward these people?

That I couldn’t know. But what was clear was that he hadn’t done this to torment them. It was, quite literally, something he joined just for fun.

“Alright.”

Father handed me the money he had won so far.

“Let’s have dinner with this.”

“With this much, we could have a feast.”

That was when the swindler spoke up.

“How about one last round, with everything you’ve won today on the line?”

At that, the tout flinched in surprise and hurried over to whisper something to him. It sounded like he was telling him not to get excited and to just end it—but the swindler didn’t back down.

There’s no way Father would turn down a situation like this.

“Shuffle them.”

Given the stakes, wouldn’t the swindler use his secret technique now? A trick that guaranteed he wouldn’t lose.

Three overturned bowls.

Father chose the middle one. With all his previous winnings on the line, the amount was quite substantial.

Judging by the swindler’s overly relaxed expression, the die clearly wasn’t under the middle bowl.

“Alright, I’ll reveal it.”

As the man opened the middle bowl, his eyes widened.

The die, which wasn’t supposed to be there, was sitting right in place.

Even his final technique had failed.

Not only the swindler, but the tout and the crowd all looked stunned. No one had expected him to get even this last one right. The onlookers erupted in cheers.

“As expected! Father, you’re the best!”

I turned to the swindler and said,

“Now, pay up.”

For a moment, the swindler looked dazed and said nothing.

“Just a moment, please.”

The tout’s eyes darted around restlessly. If they hesitated now, regretting the money they had to give up, their fates would split at this very point.

Eventually, the swindler took out a pouch from his robes and handed over the money.

“Here it is.”

He had lost the match involving money—but he had won the match involving his life.

“How in the world did you do that?”

Father accepted the money and replied,

“Have you ever shared your tricks with someone else? I’m the same.”

At Father’s reply, I burst out laughing. It was the first time I had ever seen him speak that way to a swindler.

But the surprise didn’t end there.

Father gave back half of the money to the swindler.

“Why are you giving me back half?”

To that, Father answered quietly,

“Sometimes there will be people you must let go by giving the money back. When that time comes, give them half and send them off.”

In that moment, Father’s gaze changed. Gone was the soft look he had while playing with the swindlers.

What replaced it was a gaze too heavy for a mere swindler to withstand.

The instant he met those eyes, the swindler bowed his head.

“I will keep that promise without fail!”

Leaving behind the man who had bowed deeply, we walked on.

“You were amazing.”

“Amazing? Please. He won’t keep that promise anyway.”

Father clearly didn’t believe the swindler’s vow.

“He will.”

“Maybe once or twice. But in the end, he’ll forget the fear of this moment.”

Father didn’t believe in people to begin with. Especially not a street swindler.

You're right, Father. Maybe that’s how it’ll turn out. But he might just keep that promise for the rest of his life. You say that only because you don’t know how terrifying your gaze really is.

“Then why did you give him the chance?”

After a short pause, Father replied.

“Because I was in a good mood today.”

The moment I heard that, I stopped walking.

Could anyone be in a better mood than I was?

I’d never seen Father this happy before. I was the one who had seen it. I was the one who heard him express that feeling.

“Since I won money, dinner’s on me.”

“Why don’t we buy dinner and eat it on the carriage ride?”

Father looked at me, then nodded.

He understood what I meant.

That swindler had given in easily, but the tout might not be able to let go of that money so easily—he might send thugs after us at night. Not to mention, they’d seen that our money pouch was full.

And if we dealt with those men, someone else behind them would come. Then the situation the Chief Strategist worried about could happen. There’s always someone behind the one pulling the strings.

It’s something we might unavoidably get caught in during our journey—but not now. We were only on the second day of our travels.

Father, no matter how much fate tries to drag you in, we can just step aside and avoid it first.

The next day, we were riding a carriage headed for Shaanxi.

Father sat with his eyes closed in silence, while I gazed out at the scenery.

As I admired the wildflowers blooming along the river, I suddenly asked,

“Father, are you good at fishing?”

With his eyes still closed, Father nodded—his expression full of confidence, as if saying, What am I not good at?

“How about a fish dinner tonight? Let’s make a bet—whoever loses has to handle the fish from cleaning to cooking. Oh, and clean-up too. If you’re not confident, you can forfeit now.”

Still with his eyes shut, Father spoke to Hui.

“Pull the carriage up to the river.”

Father had left behind any trace of hesitation back at the inn.

Hui pulled the carriage over to the riverbank.

“What’s the biggest fish you’ve ever caught?”

Father mentioned a shocking name.

“Golden-Scaled Star Carp.”

A legendary spirit beast fish. It was probably bigger than a person.

“That really exists?”

“I caught it myself and even consumed its core.”

“Ah! Can’t beat a Golden-Scaled Star Carp.”

Sure, I’d lose in terms of size—but not in rarity.

Core Essence of a 1000-year Carp.

The king of spirit fish.

Of course, I couldn’t catch it now. The Core Essence of a 1000-year Carp could only be found at a certain place, during a certain time, when I eventually came upon it.

“I’m pretty good at fishing too, you know.”

I’m not joking. I really searched underwater so much trying to catch that Core Essence of a 1000-year Carp that I was nearly bloated to bursting.

“Alright then, let’s start by making fishing rods.”

Using lightness technique, I scouted the area and found some bamboo. I cut down the two best stalks I could find—one for me and one for Father.

“Which one would you like to choose?”

“You pick first.”

“Acting confident, are you? I’m not going to go easy on you.”

But despite my words, I picked the slightly less decent one of the two. No matter what, I couldn’t take the better one from Father.

I pulled out my dagger and whittled the bamboo into a fishing rod.

“No blaming the gear later.”

“Same goes for you.”

“Uncle Hui, you heard that, right? You have to be a fair judge. Don’t go stretching the size of Father’s fish afterward or anything!”

Hui laughed at my words. Honestly, if Father’s fish turned out smaller than mine, he might really try to stretch it with martial arts.

“But Father, aren’t you making one?”

He had only been watching me make mine.

“You’re not planning to use martial arts to catch fish, are you? That’s not allowed. We’re doing this properly—with fishing rods.”

“I know.”

“Then why aren’t you making one? No matter how long you stare at me, I’m not going to make yours. You have to make it with your own hands. Or are you planning to blame the rod later?”

Even so, Father didn’t budge.

Eventually, I gave in with a sigh.

“I surrender. You win.”

I put down what I was working on and started making Father’s fishing rod first. Naturally, I crafted it with even more care than my own.

Father simply watched me in silence.

Once the rod was finished, I fetched fishing line and hooks from my pack and completed the setup.

Thus, two fishing rods were made.

“Here, Father. Your weapon. Go ahead and choose first.”

I presented both rods to him dramatically.

“Don’t need it.”

Father extended his hand toward the carriage.

That ominous gesture!

Then, from the carriage, his massive travel pack unlatched itself, and something shot out toward us.

It was a bamboo rod the length of a grown man’s forearm.

Shuuuuuk—

As Father manipulated the bamboo, it extended like the ‘As-You-Wish Staff’.

Astonishingly, it was a fishing rod. It looked flexible yet firm, and at a glance, it was clearly no ordinary object.

“What is that?”

Then came a name so incredible it made me freeze.

“It’s the secret weapon of the Fisherman of the Eastern Sea.”

The Fisherman of the Eastern Sea was a martial arts master who had roamed the Central Plains with nothing but a single fishing rod. His rod was said to be a flawless piece of craftsmanship—there was even a tale that if one could catch a giant whale with a rod, it would be with his.

“Why are you the one who has that, Father?”

“He lost to me in a martial duel long ago and left behind his fishing rod.”

“You were the one who made him retire?”

“It was his pride that made him retire—not me.”

I was moved. But it wasn’t because Father had defeated the Fisherman of the Eastern Sea in his younger days. Nor was it from seeing that perfect fishing rod in person.

What moved me… was the fact that Father had brought it with him.

I pictured him late at night, packing that fishing rod from the Heavenly Demon Treasury into his travel pack.

As he packed it, he must have thought—I might end up fishing with my son.

“Come on. If you had that rod, you should’ve said so. Were you just trying to mess with your son?”

Maybe… just maybe, he enjoyed watching his son make a rod for him.

“And a fishing rod from the Fisherman of the Eastern Sea? This is cheating!”

“Who was it that said not to blame the gear?”

Father and I stood side by side at the riverbank.

Our fishing match, to catch the biggest fish, had begun.

“Shall we get started, then?”

“You’ll smell like fish today, so sleep far away from me.”

“That’s my line. I’ll endure the scent coming off you, Father. And I’ll prove that a true craftsman doesn’t complain about his tools.”

I mean it—even with that rod, it won’t be easy for you.

Our fishing lines flew out over the river, glistening in the sunlight.

The curve they drew in the air was more beautiful than any stroke from a martial technique. As the bait touched the water, gentle ripples spread, then faded into stillness.

The soft sound of water filled the air. The fluttering of waterfowl echoed on the river breeze.

Everything around us was serene—utterly peaceful.

It was my first time fishing with Father.