Chapter 2: The Bronze Bell’s Deadly Fortune

The afternoon sun filtered through scattered clouds, casting dappled light across the cobbled stones of the Antiques Street. The air hung thick with the scent of aged wood and dust. The crowd was a bustling sea of noise, a constant roar that suddenly choked out, replaced by the low, elegant rumble of a high-end engine cutting through the clamor.

Before the words could even finish forming, the lights in the entire room snuffed out, plunging everything into absolute darkness. All that remained was the blue mist, spreading rampant in the blackness, and the increasingly deafening, piercing toll of the bronze bell inside Shen Luming’s ears. The sound wasn’t struck; it sounded more like a chorus of wailing spirits, shrieking in despair.

Shen Luming clamped his hands over his ears, but the noise burrowed straight into his brain. Fragments of memory flashed before his eyes: blood, fire, and a blurred, terrified face…

Yet, no one paid him a shred of attention. The neighbors just rushed past, some throwing looks of utter disdain his way. In this jianghu where the "Rich Circle" ruled supreme, a seller who even Shen Yanbai was willing to buy at a premium had already undergone a silent status shift.

Li Erli stood at the doorway like a discarded clown, his voice rasping into the empty street, echoing without a single response. He had been forgotten by that circle. The viciousness he once wielded now felt like a futile, impotent thrash against the tide.

"Try not to get nervous. I’m not some crude slob like Li Erli," the man said, nudging his flat cap slightly. Under the brim, his eyes shimmered with an eerie light. "I’m here to ‘return’ your stuff. Or rather, I’m here to tell you that I’ve been holding the other half of that bronze bell for quite some time."

"The Shen Family couldn’t find it because they were looking for the ‘complete’ bell, not the ‘scattered’ soul. Now that the soul is back in place, tell me… what do you think happens next?"

The bronze bell stood silently at the center of Uncle Tie’s stall. Its surface was crusted with verdigris, yet it still emitted a deep, resonant luster. Shen Yanbai took a few steps forward, his fingertips lightly grazing the car door, sensing that peculiar energy with a subtle, almost imperceptible touch. In an instant, a pale cyan Fate flowed from his body, creating a strange resonance with the bell.

The surrounding air seemed to freeze solid. Even the dust motes that had been dancing in the breeze stopped dead in mid-air, wrapped in a suffocating, heavy stillness.

Shen Yanbai nodded, offering no further comment. He pulled out his phone and transferred the funds directly. A few seconds later, the crisp chime of a successful payment rang out, startlingly clear in the quiet street. Shen Luming stared at the numbers jumping on his phone screen, his fingertips trembling slightly. The heavy stone that had been hanging over his heart for so long finally dropped to the ground.

The pain of being crushed by debt, the nights of waking up in cold sweat, all of it dissolved with the growing digits. A familiar, long-lost sense of relief washed over him.

"Shen Family…" Shen Luming murmured to himself, his finger hovering over the mouse, refusing to click. The Shen Family and Shen Luming shared a surname, but one was an aristocratic old lineage, and the other a lone ghost of the streets. They were worlds apart.

If this bell truly belonged to the Shen Family, then him, a outsider, holding onto it was like holding a priceless jade to demand a ransom. Not only would it enrage local power brokers like Li Erli—who are insignificant in the grand scheme—but it was far more dangerous: it could drag him completely into the vortex of internal power struggles.

Night had fully fallen, the small courtyard bathed in cold, pale moonlight. Shen Luming stood at the doorway, his fingertips trembling ever so slightly. He tried to convince himself this was just a rich merchant’s pretentious ploy, but the unease in his chest spread like vines, quickly wrapping around his heartbeat.

The moment that black Maybach disappeared around the corner, it didn’t take away all the pressure; instead, it left behind a more subtle chill, the kind that comes from being watched by a being from a higher dimension.

A screech of tires suddenly shattered the silence from outside the window. Shen Luming’s heart skipped a beat. He pulled the curtain and peered through the gap. A silver-gray sedan was parked at the alley entrance, its headlights dim and yellow, like a single, probing eye.

The car door opened. A figure stepped out, wearing a long gray trench coat and a flat cap. His posture was hunched, his steps unsteady, yet he carried an ethereal, feminine air that didn’t match his age.

An old news headline from three years ago popped up: The Shen Family of Jiang City. This once-grand, now-declined ancient clan, rumored to have lost their patriarch, had once misplaced a heirloom called the "Votive Bronze Ox." It was supposedly a feng shui treasure left by the founding patriarch, capable of gathering wealth and blessing, as well as warding off evil and suppressing curses.

The bronze ox in the news photo had an archaic design, cloud patterns carved into its back, and the shape of its fractured edges seemed to eerily match the break in the fragment Shen Luming was holding.

"A noble family heirloom?" Shen Luming recited the words silently. His mind flashed with the golden energy flowing over the bell’s surface during the day. It wasn’t just wealth luck; it felt more like a greedy, ancient will that had been sealed away for years.

If this object truly belonged to a top-tier dynasty, then Li Erli’s bottomless threats earlier looked as ridiculous and stupid as an ant trying to shake a tree when faced with real power.

At that moment, the luxury car in the distance started up again, its engine fading into the distance. Before Shen Yanbai got in, he suddenly turned back. Through the car glass, his gaze pierced through the layers of obstacles, landing firmly on Shen Luming. His expression remained inscrutable, but he spoke in a low voice. It wasn’t loud, yet it reached Shen Luming’s ears with crystal clarity: "This bell is linked to a missing heirloom from a major house. You’d better be careful."

Li Erli, who had been sputuring to passersby moments before, saw the powerful aura and instinctively reached out to grab the bronze bell, trying to seize the upper hand. But the instant he touched that invisible, crushing Fate, his legs began to shake violently. He couldn’t control them; they gave out. With a thud, he collapsed on his knees before Uncle Tie, his face a mask of terror, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.

Shen Yanbai gazed at the Fate swirling inside the bell. The pale cyan light converged in the depths of his pupils, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched upward as he offered a price three times the market rate. The number stunned even Uncle Tie into making his cane tremble, and the onlookers gasped in quiet surprise.

Shen Luming used the money to pay off part of his debts, and the pressure dropped instantly. Walking home, he looked up at the setting sun in the sky. For the first time, he tasted the sweetness of having control over his own Fate, and his steps felt lighter. He realized he was no longer just an ant being pushed by destiny; he had a sliver of choice.

He raised his hand, a weak but frigid ball of blue mist condensing at his fingertips. The mist instantly pierced the gap in the iron box, lashing toward the bronze bell fragment inside. Shen Luming felt a bone-chilling cold rush over him. The fragment in his hand began to hum faintly, as if responding to that peculiar force.

The man didn’t head toward the neighbor’s house. Instead, he walked straight through the darkness to the gate of Shen Luming’s courtyard. He didn’t knock. Instead, he pulled a rusty copper key from his pocket and gently inserted it into the old, neglected lock that no one had touched in years. With a click, the door opened.

Shen Luming looked Shen Yanbai in the eyes, the calculated sharpness of the marketplace replaced by a hint of sincerity. He took a deep breath, pressing down the anxiety that had been piling up due to his debts, and spoke candidly: "I need this money to clear my debts. If you’re serious about buying it, the price is negotiable. As long as I don’t take a loss, I won’t haggle."

"You think you won, right?" The man sneered. His body vanished from where he stood, and in the next second, he was right behind Shen Luming. His cold lips were almost touching Shen Luming’s ear, his breath icy. "You think that was wealth luck? Wrong. It was Grudge. And tonight, the Grudge is looking for its owner."

Uncle Tie leaned on his cane, shuffling forward two steps, protectively pointing at the blurred inscriptions on the bottom of the bell. He addressed Shen Yanbai: "It’s a century-old furnace. The fire has reached its peak; it’s not something ordinary can compare to. Though I’m not an expert on many things, this bell’s tone is heavy and muffled. There must be a profound mystery inside."

At that moment, Old Chen, who had been quietly observing, smoothly mediated. He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and smiled: "Boss Shen has a sharp eye. This bell is indeed rare. Brother Luming has also dealt honestly. Good steel should be used on the blade’s edge. For Boss Shen to spot such a gem is the bell’s fortune, too."

The bronze bell was carefully loaded into the trunk of the dedicated car. As the trunk closed, that streak of pale cyan Fate flowed out and vanished into the shadows. Li Erli stared at the now-empty stall, still clutching that note with the lowball price in his hand. His face twisted with resentment, his knuckles white from the grip.

The door hinge emitted a dull creak. The figure slipped inside, moving so fast there was no sound. Shen Luming caught his face by the moonlight—it was a face pale as paper, with deep-set eye sockets, the corner of his mouth curled into a horrifying smile.

The man didn’t answer. He simply walked slowly to the center of the room, his gaze passing through Shen Luming to land on the iron box on the table. He stopped, tilting his head, his eyes betraying a glint of greed and fanaticism, as if he were looking at the most precious treasure in the world.

Shen Yanbai didn’t turn around. He just glanced over. The look in his eyes was cold as ice. Li Erli froze, looking like a rooster by the throat. He was silent as the grave, daring not to speak another word, his neck tucked in, his face a mask of disbelief and fear.

Shen Luming’s figure flickered, fast as lightning, and he planted himself firmly in front of the bronze bell. Cold light flashed in his eyes. He spread his arms slightly, sealing off the violent, agitated aura around him, protecting this last shred of dignity and retreat.

Back at his dilapidated courtyard, Li Erli came knocking. Furious and humiliated, he threatened at the gate: "Shen Luming! I’ll dig into your background and see how long you can stay cocky! Don’t think having money means you can do whatever you want!"

With that, the car window rolled up, cutting off all sightlines. Shen Luming stood frozen, watching the black car drive away. The bronze bell fragment in his hand seemed heavier than before, and the air around him tightened again.

From the depths of the darkness, the man’s voice rose again, laced with mocking provocation: "Before dawn, you’ll make a choice. Will you keep holding this fragment and wait to die? Or… will you open that door?"

In the dead silence, Shen Yanbai asked: "What year was this bell cast?" His voice was calm, yet it carried an unquestionable authority, breaking the stalemate in the air and making the onlookers hold their breath.

"Luming," the man’s voice was raspy, like sandpaper rubbing against wood. "Shen Yanbai told me that you’ve been flush with cash lately. You still have a good item unsold, right?"

Li Erli, seeing money, his face twisted instantly. He butted in, shouting: "Too expensive! That crappy bell isn't worth that much! Boss Shen, are you possessed?"

Shen Luming’s heart leaped into his throat. He grabbed a pair of scissors from the table and quietly backed into the shadows by the doorway.

Gripping the scissors tight until his knuckles went white, Shen Luming asked: "Who are you?"

Shen Luming was stiff as a board, cold sweat soaking through his back. He slowly turned his head. In the darkness, he saw the man standing at the doorway, now holding a brand-new fragment of the bronze bell, also carved with cloud patterns. The two fragments faced each other across the trembling body of Shen Luming, as if waiting for a ritual to be completed.