Chapter 7: Another Ten Consecutive Draws

“What does Second Young Master think?” Lü Shui, noticing Ji Huo’s lingering gaze on the Flying Bear Army, smiled slyly as he asked.

“No wonder the Flying Bear Army is renowned across the continent—its fame is well-deserved,” Ji Huo replied with admiration.

“That’s nothing!” Lü Shui laughed heartily. “Now that Second Young Master is returning to acknowledge his kin, the general’s Flying Bear Army will one day be under your command. Soon enough, you’ll see them every day.”

Upon hearing this, the surrounding soldiers of the Flying Bear Army exchanged knowing smiles with Ji Huo, their eyes tinged with respect, as if regarding him as their future young master.

This was the recognition reserved for the strong and for the heir to come.

After their skirmish with the wolf pack, they’d already sensed that these giant wolves were anything but ordinary. Even the best in the army would struggle to behead one in a single blow. Yet Ji Huo had shattered the skull of a demon wolf with a single palm—such strength was unheard of.

Ji Huo could only smile wryly. “That’s not something you should say. For one, I’m just a child of the slums, and even if someone were to lead the Flying Bear Army in the future, it should be my elder brother.”

Besides, wasn’t the Flying Bear Army under the Zhou Dynasty? Lü Shui made it sound like it was the Ji family’s private force. That’s not something to joke about, brother… Ji Huo mused silently.

“Eldest Young Master…” Lü Shui was momentarily at a loss for words, his expression shifting before he sighed deeply.

Ji Huo noticed the soldiers’ gazes dimming, the atmosphere suddenly falling silent. Only Mister Wen seemed unbothered, engrossed in studying the wild game Lü Shui had brought back.

“What’s the matter?” Ji Huo asked.

Lü Shui hesitated, glancing at Mister Wen, who appeared not to have heard a thing. Lü Shui clasped his hands and replied, “Eldest Young Master is known for his virtue and treats the Flying Bear Army, and the people, with great kindness. We all respect him greatly. It’s just…”

“Eldest Young Master has been frail since childhood. A few steps leave him exhausted, and he’s prone to coughing fits. He can’t endure hardship—he’s a gentle scholar, not a warrior. Even now, as an adult, his illness remains uncured.”

Lü Shui spoke in a low voice, though his booming tone meant everyone nearby heard perfectly well.

“We in the Flying Bear Army have always worried who would take command when the general grows old. Fortunately, Second Young Master has returned!”

He glanced at Mister Wen again, who still feigned ignorance, so Lü Shui continued in a hushed tone, “The strangest thing is, Eldest Young Master isn’t like those idle sons of the capital who waste their days in brothels. So why is he so weak?”

Ji Huo parted his lips, recalling the youth he’d met two years ago. The boy’s skin was fair, but he hadn’t seemed frail at all. When the youth visited his home, Ji Huo had served him simple fare. They’d chatted over their meal, and even as the youth left, Ji Huo hadn’t heard him cough once.

Ji Huo narrowed his eyes, stealing a glance at Mister Wen, who, sensing Ji Huo’s gaze, turned his guilty eyes toward the dark sky, assuming an air of moon-gazing despite the pitch-black night with not a star or moon in sight.

“In the past,” Lü Shui went on, “some of us suspected Eldest Young Master had been bewitched by a fox spirit, so we secretly hired several diviners to observe him for half a month. They found nothing unusual.”

“Our men even staked out every brothel in the capital, but never saw Eldest Young Master visit one. Yet his health remains poor—truly a mystery.”

Are you sure you were only staking out? I won’t point it out, but you guys are just using this as an excuse for a government-funded outing, aren’t you… Ji Huo’s lips twitched; he was beginning to think there was something odd about this Flying Bear Army.

Mister Wen’s face darkened. “So that’s why you all kept visiting Eldest Young Master during that time,” he muttered.

Lü Shui grinned. “Mister Wen, you mustn’t let this slip to Eldest Young Master. Though you’re his man, we treat you as one of our own, that’s why I’m telling you this.”

Waving a hand in exasperation, Mister Wen sat off to the side, glaring and muttering under his breath.

The wild game they’d brought back was decent. As it roasted, the aroma drifted through the camp. Ji Huo sprinkled on the seasonings he’d brought, letting the fragrance waft through the woods.

They ate and drank, making do for the night as best they could.

After everyone else had fallen asleep, Ji Huo closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking inward. With a silent command, the system interface appeared before his mind’s eye.

[Points: 729]

Seeing the number, Ji Huo’s face lit up with delight. He hadn’t earned enough from killing the black-clad men before, but a single wolf demon had made up the difference.

The lottery cost sixty points a draw—six hundred for ten. He had just enough now.

“I want ten draws!” Ji Huo grumbled in his heart.

A spinning wheel appeared in his mind. “Honest and fair! A hundred percent chance to win!” the bold words proclaimed.

The wheel spun rapidly, the pointer darting about before transforming into ten balls of light.

[Congratulations, you have received: Agility +1, Flower +1, Stamina +2, Strength +1, Flower +1, Flower +2, Cultivation Value +30, Cultivation Value +90, Flower +1, Flower +1.]

Ji Huo’s face instantly fell. He opened his eyes and glanced around; the night was utterly black. Bad feng shui, he thought. With monsters haunting these woods, how could the luck here be any good?

Curses!

…

“Second Young Master, did you not sleep well last night? You look terrible,” Lü Shui asked curiously the next morning.

“It’s nothing. I suppose I’m just not used to the air here,” Ji Huo replied gloomily.

Mister Wen added, “You’ll probably sleep better once you reach the capital. The capital is a place of outstanding people, built upon the dragon’s vein—a fine place.”

Ji Huo’s heart stirred. He’d tried every method with this lottery over the years: drawing at sunrise and sunset, in different places, standing, lying down, even upside down—every superstitious trick imaginable. Yet the best prizes were rare.

Still, anything produced by the system was of the highest quality. The finest so far was the red paper umbrella in Little Red Sugar’s hands. Ji Huo had yet to find anything that could break through its defense.

Maybe the feng shui really was bad where I’d been before?

Perhaps once I reach the capital, my luck will turn.

“Mister Wen, do you mages have any way to boost one’s fortune?” Ji Huo asked, recalling that Mister Wen could casually cast spells that could fool even great demons—he must have some skill.

“Well…” Mister Wen pondered. “Fortune is a mysterious thing, extremely hard to alter. Only through grand rituals or ceremonies can it be improved, and even then, the effect is limited.”

Ji Huo was a little disappointed. “I see.”

“But the Grand Diviner may have a way. When you reach the capital, you might wish to visit him,” Mister Wen suggested.

The Grand Diviner—the foremost mage in the Zhou Dynasty. Ji Huo didn’t know just how powerful he was, but to hold such a position for so many years without being dismissed, and to refrain from promising the emperor immortality, he must truly be remarkable.