The Tailor's Old Tale

This remark from the old tailor effectively left the yellow weasel without the "seal of approval" it sought! In mere moments, disaster befell it, deflating its once vigorous form like a punctured balloon.

The yellow weasel had chosen the old tailor as its target for one reason: the tailor carried a special kind of "cultivation."

This "cultivation" was not the kind tied to martial strength in the world of immortals. Instead, it referred to intangible blessings: virtue, incense offerings, and fortuitous connections.

The old tailor, known for frequently gifting clothes to the poor and having crossed paths with Gu Ning'an, carried an abundance of this unique "cultivation." The higher one's cultivation, the greater the reward for extracting a "seal of approval" from them—but failure to do so would result in even harsher repercussions.

The yellow weasel had prepared extensively for this attempt. First, it had crafted an otherworldly appearance and adopted a mystical demeanor. Second, it had chosen a time when the old tailor was inebriated.

Yet, to its dismay, the tailor not only rejected its claim but began earnestly lecturing it on what true immortals should be like.

Frustrated, the weasel gritted its teeth and demanded, "You speak with such certainty. Have you truly met an immortal?"

Though drunk, the old tailor wasn't entirely senseless. Faced with something he couldn't be sure of, he simply replied, "Seen one? Haven't seen one? It's both!"

Anyone listening to such a response from a "drunkard" would feel mocked. The yellow weasel was no exception. Blood seeped from the corner of its mouth as it growled in a sinister tone, "Fine, fine, fine! Tell me then, what exactly do you mean by 'both'?"

The old tailor scratched his head, musing aloud, "If I'd known, I should have asked Mr. Gu for a portrait."

As the tailor struggled to explain himself, the yellow weasel's patience frayed. Exhausted and seething with resentment, it resolved to take revenge.

But just as the weasel was about to lash out, the old tailor slapped his thigh in realization and exclaimed, "Got it!"

Before the weasel could react, the tailor grabbed its paw and started dragging it toward his shop. "At my shop, there's a piece of calligraphy I believe was written by an immortal. Come and take a look! One glance at that writing, and you'll understand what I mean!"

Still doubtful, the yellow weasel allowed itself to be "forcibly escorted" to the tailor's shop.

When it saw the words on the signboard hanging above the entrance, the weasel immediately dropped to its knees in terror.

Though its cultivation was modest, it had seen enough in its lifetime to recognize the magnitude of the power radiating from the calligraphy. What might have seemed like a faint trace of magical energy to Gu Ning'an was, to the weasel, a crushing tidal wave.

Overwhelmed by the fear of death, the yellow weasel prostrated itself before the "immortal inscription," trembling uncontrollably.

At that moment, it finally believed the tailor had spoken the truth. The magical energy emanating from the words could only have been left by an immortal.

What unsettled the weasel even further was the faint sense of hostility that emanated from the inscription, directed toward it. It now understood that the inscription was not merely decorative—it was a protective talisman left by an immortal to shield the tailor's shop from malevolent forces.

When the tailor had brought it to the shop, there had been no killing intent, but the weasel's malicious aura had been laid bare. It shuddered to think that if it had harbored murderous intent, the inscription's power might have annihilated it the moment it approached.

Desperate to survive, the yellow weasel knelt and kowtowed repeatedly to the "immortal inscription," pouring out a full account of the circumstances that had led it there.

Seeing the weasel in such a pitiful state, the soft-hearted tailor actually joined it, kneeling before the shop's signboard and pleading its case.

In the end, the inscription's magical power surged forth, pouring into the yellow weasel's body.

The yellow weasel wailed inwardly, convinced it would die on the spot. But instead of killing it, the power that entered its body healed the damage caused by its earlier misfortune.

Once its cultivation was restored, the yellow weasel first kowtowed three times to the inscription left by Gu Ning'an. Then, bowing deeply, it expressed its gratitude to the old tailor.

After doing all this, it ignored the tailor's confused expression and darted into the alley, disappearing from sight.

This was why the magical energy infused in the three characters "Excellent Craftsmanship" had dissipated, yet the white paper on which they were written remained intact.

Piecing together the cause and effect, Gu Ning'an couldn't help but chuckle. The magical energy had appeared "intelligent" because of the precautions he'd built into it when he originally left the inscription. He had set it to avoid harming certain spiritual creatures.

In Gu Ning'an's eyes, the vast heavens and earth were home to countless beings, each with a right to exist. For a wild beast to gain sentience and cultivate was no easy feat. Carrying residual hostility was natural, so long as it abided by basic moral boundaries and refrained from harming humans. For that reason, he saw no need to indiscriminately slay such creatures.

Moreover, magic could "harm" as well as "heal." The yellow weasel's adherence to moral boundaries, combined with the old tailor's kindness in pleading on its behalf, had transformed what could have been a malevolent outcome into a benevolent one. Had either of these elements been missing, the inscription's power would not have helped the yellow weasel.

Reflecting on the situation, Gu Ning'an also realized why, when he had been in a state of "quiescence," a shadow of the yellow weasel had appeared amidst the red dust swirling around him.

"If I ever come across that yellow weasel again, it would be interesting to have a conversation," he thought to himself.

Just then, Ma Mingcai ran to the shop's entrance and poked his head out. "Sir, were you speaking to me?" he asked.

Gu Ning'an smiled and shook his head. "No… Haven't you found the clothes yet?"

Scratching his head awkwardly, Ma Mingcai replied, "My father treasures that set of clothes so much that he locked it in a stone chest secured with eighty-one copper locks. I've already opened eighty of them, but I can't find the last key.

"I'm certain my father told me all the keys were kept together and never moved. Just give me a little more time—I'll keep looking."

With that, Ma Mingcai turned back into the shop, rummaging with even more fervor than before.

Watching him, Gu Ning'an stepped into the shop. The air carried a faint scent of fabric, unique and pleasant.

The shop wasn't large. The walls were lined with ready-made garments and rolled-up bolts of silk. In the middle of the room stood a square stone chest, its many discarded copper locks scattered on the ground.

One lock remained fastened on the chest, and Ma Mingcai was crouched in front of a wooden cabinet, practically burying himself in it as he searched.

Gu Ning'an glanced at the lock for a moment, then picked up a silver needle from a nearby wooden table. With a quick motion, he inserted the needle into the lock.

A soft "click" sounded as the mechanism released, and the lock fell to the ground.

The metallic clatter startled Ma Mingcai, who instinctively pulled himself out of the cabinet. When he saw the fallen lock with a silver needle still lodged in it, his expression turned odd.

"This… A sewing needle opened the lock?" he asked, bewildered.

Gu Ning'an smiled. "Yes. It seems the old tailor had a sense of humor. The key to the last lock was a silver needle—something abundant in this shop."

Smack! Ma Mingcai slapped his forehead and laughed. "I should've thought of that! My father really would pull a trick like this."

As they spoke, Ma Mingcai stood up and removed the stone chest's lid, revealing an exquisitely crafted, long, rectangular redwood box nestled inside.

Note: As said before, magic here doesn't refer to magic used by magicians/mage that uses mana. It's just a general term for the supernatural.