Wei Zhao sighed, rose to his feet, and walked out of that corner of the park. It was true the place was sparsely populated, but every so often a pair of young lovebirds would slip in, and if one was careless one might even catch an eyeful of something not fit to be seen. Wei Zhao was no疯子 who enjoyed peeping on others—he knew better than to linger, and promptly and tactfully yielded the ground to those who wanted it.

Reaching the bustling park entrance, he saw someone buying things at the little shop beside it, and only then did a certain fact suddenly occur to him: this was the mortal world. Spirit jade, that high-grade commodity, was utterly unknown here; whatever one wanted to do, one paid in paper money. In the mortal world, a man without money could not take a single step.

At the thought, Wei Zhao hastily checked the jade pendant. He vaguely recalled that when Wu Chengtian had prepared all manner of things for him, he seemed to have stuffed a bit of cash in as well. At the time it had looked like a superfluous gesture, but now it happened to be exactly what he needed.

Wei Zhao rummaged about for a moment, and sure enough, amid the pile of odds and ends he found a stack of cash. He took it in hand and gave it a glance—neither more nor less, exactly ten thousand yuan.

"Ten thousand yuan really isn't enough to get by on." Wei Zhao shook his head and sighed, then casually stuffed the ten thousand in cash into his trouser pocket. When his Primordial Spirit body had taken shape just now, he had deliberately chosen mortal-world clothing; otherwise, dressed in the style of Cloud Terrace Island, he would have drawn a crowd the moment he stepped onto the street—people would have thought a film was being shot.

Ten thousand was in fact not a small sum; it was more than enough to take him to East Sea City to find Qiu Lingshan, Wu Chengtian, and the others. But for the moment Wei Zhao had no such intention. Right now all he wanted was to find a safe place to recover his strength, and then find some way to investigate the origins of those two Heaven Dao stage experts. Otherwise he would not be able to set his mind at ease.

But that being so, a mere ten thousand yuan looked rather tight. If he picked a somewhat decent hotel, the money would not last long at all—yet this was, after all, a small county town. If he settled for an ordinary hotel instead, the conditions would surely leave much to be desired, and how could he cultivate in peace in a place like that?

After turning it over and over, Wei Zhao concluded that the best plan at present was to rent a house. It did not need to be for long—a month ought to be more than sufficient. Even for the best-appointed suite, judging by the cost of living in a small county town like this, the price would probably not exceed five thousand, and even counting the deposit he would still have a little cash left over.

Having settled on this course, Wei Zhao at once began searching along the street for a property agency. Everyone said renting through an agent was unreliable, but Wei Zhao only needed a place for a month in an emergency—it was not as though he meant to live there three or five years.

So long as the place was passable, it did not have to suit his tastes perfectly. Besides, he had no time to go door to door viewing places himself; going through a rental agency would at least save time and effort—at worst he might be gouged a little.

Small county towns did not have property agencies swarming thick as flies the way big cities did, but they were not hard to find either. This was a busy commercial district besides, so a single stroll along the street ought to turn one up. Of course, if his luck was poor, he might have to wander a few more blocks.

Yet before Wei Zhao had gone more than a few steps, someone suddenly grabbed him by the arm. It was only because he had deliberately made his body solid that the man felt nothing amiss; otherwise the grab would have closed on empty air.

"What is it?" Wei Zhao turned and glanced at the man—an elderly fellow with a plain way of dressing, a small carrying pole of greens beside him. He looked like an old vegetable seller from the countryside.

Besides the old man there was a sullen-looking young man with a crew cut, who was gripping the old man's clothes and refusing to let go. The two of them appeared to be in the middle of a quarrel.

"Young man, you come and judge for this old fellow," the old man said angrily. "This lottery ticket—I plainly picked it up at my own stall. This man insists it was his that he lost, but he never bought a single thing from me. How could that be, I ask you?"

"Bullshit! I dropped it by accident when I was taking out my money. Then I turn around and it's in his hands—how is that 'picking up'? That's plain robbery!" the crew-cut man snarled.

"What lottery ticket?" Wei Zhao blinked, then saw that the old man really was holding a welfare lottery ticket between his fingers, and asked offhandedly, "Win anything?"

"Here, look, this is the one. I don't even know whether it's a winner. What's the world coming to these days—even snatching a lottery ticket out of an old man's hands! Is there no justice left?" The old man waved the ticket before Wei Zhao's eyes, then at once tucked it away like a treasure, afraid the crew-cut man beside him might snatch it.

"Oh, oh, oh, the old man's quite the actor, isn't he? If it hadn't won, would you be hiding it away like a treasure?" The crew-cut man gave a few cold laughs and said to Wei Zhao, "Brother, don't let this old man fool you. The old bastard's a sly one. This ticket's won ten third prizes—three thousand yuan each, ten of them makes thirty thousand!"

"So what if it's thirty thousand? What's that to you? The ticket isn't yours. I picked it up, so of course it's mine!" the old man said, sticking out his neck.

"Ho, old man, don't you know what's good for you. A country bumpkin like you dares come into town and throw your weight around, eh? I'm telling you, this ticket is mine—you snatched it out of my hand. That's a crime, you understand?" the crew-cut man said, seizing the old man by the collar.

"Young man, you've heard how it is. Please, say a fair word for this old fellow—tell me, shouldn't this ticket be mine?" the old man said, ignoring the crew-cut man and insisting on putting the question to Wei Zhao.

"That's right. The two of us can't settle this between ourselves. Brother, you be the judge—who does this ticket belong to?" the crew-cut man chimed in.

Wei Zhao glanced at the two of them and said mildly, "I didn't see with my own eyes what happened—I've only heard a few words from each of you. How am I to judge? But since each side claims to be in the right, why not just call the police and let them settle it for you?"

"Call the police? I only picked up a lottery ticket at my own stall—is it worth making such a fuss as that?" The old man was startled.

"Exactly. No need to trouble the police over a little thing like this. I say we settle it privately, that's better," the crew-cut man said, his expression changing too.

"Since you've decided to settle it privately, the two of you can talk it over yourselves." Wei Zhao adopted the attitude of an onlooker. After all, there was no making sense of a matter like this; the two of them would have to work it out between them.

"This..." The crew-cut man hesitated, then said to the old man in a tone of one graciously willing to swallow a loss, "This brother's right. There's no end to us squabbling like this. Tell you what—split it down the middle, half each!" (To be continued.)