One Person: I, the Dragon Tiger Stall King! I Won!

163: I’m not here to collect debts, I’m here to check the accountsOn the seventh day, before dawn, the mountain fog was so thick it wouldn’t dissipate.

On the stone steps at the foot of Mount Longhu, Zhang Xuanyi still sat cross-legged, his old cloth spread out, displaying three “defective items” quietly: an empty bottle, a charred shell, and a yellowed strip of paper.

The wind swept by, the corners of the cloth fluttering, as if an unobserved ritual was quietly beginning.

He didn’t move, nor did he open his eyes, but a fire had already ignited in his heart.

Just half an hour ago, a wisp of green smoke, light as mist, drifted from a crack in the mountain gate, precisely circled the stall three times, and finally condensed at the mouth of the empty Pseudo-Three Caverns True Qi Liquid bottle, forming a miniature talisman—its patterns ancient and unadorned, it was the “Pledge Seal of Wish Fulfillment,” long lost from the Tianshi Mansion.

And at this moment, a white figure broke through the mist, silently appearing at the end of the stone steps.

An old white-haired Daoist priest, in a spotless plain robe, holding a scroll of gilded names, walked as if treading on air.

He stopped in front of Zhang Xuanyi, slowly bowed, and offered the scroll.

“By order, I am here to receive the account auditor.”

His voice was not loud, yet it resonated like a bell in a valley, causing the surrounding mist to subtly ripple.

Zhang Xuanyi finally opened his eyes, his gaze as clear as washed water.

He reached out and took the scroll, the moment his fingertips touched the cover—

A vast surge of wish power, like a tide, poured back, rushing up his arm directly to his sea of consciousness!

That was the echo of billions of incense and prayer thoughts, the countless wishes of common people burning talismans three hundred years ago, the unreturned obsession when miners drew talismans for safety, old soldiers swallowed candy before battle, and children offered candy to gods!

His breathing hitched, then he turned to the first page.

The ink was still wet, four large characters prominently in view:

Year Gui Mao Wish Power Revenue and Expenditure Audit Special Envoy Zhang Xuanyi

Affiliation: Incense Department Re-establishment Preparatory Group.

The official seal was bright red, its border slightly rough, and within its Texture, even faint traces of carving knife slips could be seen—

Zhang Xuanyi almost laughed out loud.

“Good heavens... they even gave me a formal position?”

That seal was clearly the rubber stamp he had privately carved at a street stall three years ago, the one he used to print thousands of “Peace Talisman Raffle Tickets”!

At the time, he had even grumbled, “The Tianshi Mansion’s official seal is too complex; our simplified version still needs to be recognizable.”

Now, the simplified version had been directly upgraded to official certification, becoming an “Envoy Credential.”

He closed the scroll, looked up at the white-haired old Daoist priest: “So, you no longer treat me as a debt collector, but call me an ‘auditor’ instead?”

The old Daoist priest’s expression remained unchanged: “Every photocopy yellow paper you sold, every pinch of ash burned, has woven a net underground. Last night, stall 48, stall 59... automatically settled. The Incense Account Ledger activated itself, and the Earth Vein recorded the accounts in a chain. This is not human action; it is ‘faith’ overriding ‘power’.”

Zhang Xuanyi was silent for a moment, then suddenly chuckled: “You are finally afraid.”

“Not afraid,” the old Daoist priest whispered, “but awakened.”

The two said no more.

Zhang Xuanyi stood up, dusted off the hem of his Daoist robe, tucked the scroll into his embrace, and followed the old Daoist priest up the mountain path.

Along the way, Mount Longhu was eerily silent.

The usual morning bells, evening drums, and chanting of disciples were completely absent, replaced by closed temple doors, patrolling black-clad guards, and the shimmering light of array patterns faintly visible on the walls.

The entire mountain was like a hibernating beast, outwardly relaxed but inwardly tense, heavily guarded.

“The seal has been loose for three hundred years; have you locked yourselves up so much you developed PTSD?” Zhang Xuanyi quipped casually, but his steps had secretly slowed.

As they reached the Incense Hall, the bluestone ground suddenly sank.

His eyebrow twitched slightly.

It wasn’t an illusion—the golden patterns underfoot were moving!