Chapter 47: Class Games (Part 13)

As soon as the Goatman finished speaking, a black curtain fell from the sky, and the scene switched in an instant. They were no longer inside the castle but in a dilapidated alleyway.

Yun Xueqing looked around and found that most of the people had disappeared. Including himself, there were only six left. San Zhi and Jiang Yiyue were gone, and even Fu Wuxuan was no longer by his side.

He couldn’t help but worry. Fu Wuxuan had trouble moving around, and alone, he would likely be bullied.

However, his concern didn’t last long before he heard someone nearby chuckle lightly. “Alone in this eerie, scary alleyway—I’m so frightened. Good thing I have a great beauty like you to keep me company.”

Yun Xueqing glanced at Ji Tongsheng, who was fanning himself with a folding fan beside him, but said nothing and silently looked away.

“We need to get out of here now,” came a voice from a bearded uncle.

The alley was in ruins and branched in all directions like a spiderweb. They walked several paths, circling around, only to return to the starting point.

Ji Tongsheng shook his fan. “A maze? Interesting.”

Yun Xueqing suddenly said coolly, “Maybe not.”

He pointed to a house ahead.

The house wasn’t large, made of wood. Though surrounded by airtight walls, it still swayed precariously in the fierce wind.

The bearded uncle hesitated. “Go inside?”

Yun Xueqing figured they couldn’t just wander like headless flies, so they might as well check out what was inside.

He approached the wooden house, with Ji Tongsheng slowly following behind.

Yun Xueqing didn’t mind the other man trying to trail him for easy gains. With an indifferent expression, he knocked on the wooden door. “Hello, is anyone there?”

The door swung open, and out came an old man with white hair.

His skin was deeply wrinkled, like fingers soaked too long, and his face was rugged and uneven, clearly advanced in age. Yet his posture wasn’t hunched; instead, he was exceptionally tall, around 1.9 meters, exuding a strong sense of oppression.

Yun Xueqing was about to speak when the old man grabbed his clothes and yanked him inside the wooden house. Of course, Ji Tongsheng beside him didn’t escape either and was dragged in along with him.

Yun Xueqing, seized by the collar, was pondering what was happening when the old man unleashed a torrent of angry curses. “Where’s the money? I’m asking you, where’s the money! You dare come back without earning any? Go sell all the matches, or don’t come back to this house!”

Ji Tongsheng smirked with schadenfreude, only to get slapped across the mask by the old man. “And you, grinning like an idiot—have you sold your matches? Get out and sell matches, earn money, earn money! I need money, I need alcohol, I need women! Go sell matches for me now!”

His words were disjointed, but Yun Xueqing got the gist. Before he knew it, a basket of matches was shoved into his hands, and he was roughly chased out of the small wooden house.

An 1.8-meter-tall man carrying a basket of matches in the cold wind looked rather comical, but those who might laugh at him weren’t much better off.

Ji Tongsheng lifted his basket. “This is bad.”

That stinking old man had dared to slap him. He wanted to erupt on the spot and kill the man with his Oracle powers, but he found he couldn’t mobilize his Spirit Energy no matter what.

He tried to fight back with fists and feet, but his limbs felt limp, his strength reduced to a tenth.

They were now utterly powerless lambs in this bizarre place, at the mercy of others.

The weather was cold with biting winds, so Ji Tongsheng no longer fanned himself and stuffed the fan into his pocket. “We’re really in a fog here, no idea what to do.”

Yun Xueqing paused, then said, “Then let’s do as that man said—sell the matches first.”

Ji Tongsheng teased unseriously, “You’re really going to play the Little Match Girl?”

He eyed Yun Xueqing up and down. “Fair skin, refined features—you really are beautiful.”

If he peeled off that skin and preserved it, it would become his most treasured collection piece.

Yun Xueqing sensed the deep malice hidden beneath the man’s frivolous tone and silently stepped away.

He carried the match basket and walked into the alley, but he still circled around endlessly, unable to escape.

He stopped, pondering the old man’s words.

The old man had told him to sell matches, but the alley was deserted, devoid of people. It was impossible to sell here; he had to get out.

If getting out was necessary, there had to be a way.

The basket was fastened to his wrist with a moderate weight. A spark of insight flashed in Yun Xueqing’s mind. He lifted the blue cloth covering the basket, revealing over a dozen boxes of matches inside.

He took out one box, opened it, and struck a match against the side.

The red match head flickered, and a warm glow bloomed in his hand. Yun Xueqing held the match and reentered the alley.

An ordinary match would extinguish in seconds, but this one was different—made of special materials, it lasted over ten seconds before suddenly going out.

Yun Xueqing noticed the alley had completely changed. Realizing the match’s light was the key to navigating out, he kept lighting them one after another.

After burning through an entire box, he finally exited the alley.

Outside lay an entirely different scene. Yun Xueqing looked around in surprise.

Winds howled, light snow fell from the sky, piling layer upon layer on the streets.

Crude stone longhouses stretched before him, desolate and primitive.

Such longhouses weren’t just one or two but lined the entire street. Simply dressed people passed by, beggars’ wails filling the air.

Yun Xueqing found the architecture unfamiliar, the passersby’s clothing strange, their features deep-set like foreigners, not natives of the Central Plains.

His doubts went unanswered, so he ignored them and focused on selling the matches in his basket.

But in this slum, no one bought matches—too much competition from others like him, apparently.

He decided to try elsewhere and walked off in one direction with his basket.

Snow fell lightly amid the cold winds. Yun Xueqing, dressed thinly, soon felt his limbs growing numb.

This place was too strange; he couldn’t mobilize his Spiritual Power, not even open his Storage Space.

The chill invaded relentlessly. Yun Xueqing quickened his pace, left the slum street behind, hoping to sell the matches quickly and return to the wooden house to shelter from the wind.

The wind pierced like knives, his hands and feet stiffening. Relying purely on willpower, he finally reached another street.

Unlike the slum with its longhouses, this street was worlds apart in prosperity. Beautiful manors glowed warmly even at night. Tailor shops, taverns, and a grand church bustled with people coming and going.

Carriages sped past on the wide road.

One carriage barreled by too fast, nearly knocking Yun Xueqing over as he crossed.

But Yun Xueqing reacted swiftly, stepping back to safety—though his match basket flipped, scattering matches everywhere.

The coachman glared ferociously. “Where’d this beggar come from, blocking Lord Louis’s path!”

A light cough came from inside the carriage, followed by a low voice. “Ignore it. Keep going—we’re in a hurry.”

Hearing this, the coachman didn’t press further and drove on.

Since Yun Xueqing had nearly been killed, a crowd gathered to gawk.

“A little beggar dared block Lord Louis’s carriage.”

“Oh my god, isn’t that lord known for his bad temper? He should’ve just run the beggar down—why let him off today?”

“You don’t know? Lord Louis is rushing to Miss Tiffany’s banquet.”

“So it’s that lady’s banquet. Must be tons of Nobles attending, right?”

“Yeah, not just Lord Louis—Lord William and Lord Henry are going too.”

“So many highborn Noble lords at Miss Tiffany’s banquet. Can’t imagine the wonders tonight.”

Yun Xueqing took in their words and memorized them silently.

Miss Tiffany’s banquet must be important—Fu Wuxuan might even be there.

He approached one of them and asked, “Excuse me, where is Miss Tiffany’s banquet?”

A gorgeously dressed noblewoman fanned herself. “Miss Tiffany’s banquet isn’t for the likes of lowborn scum like you.”

“Jennifer, don’t be so vicious,” laughed someone nearby. “Little beggar, you want to go to Miss Tiffany’s banquet, right? Walk one kilometer down this street—the biggest manor is her home.”

Yun Xueqing nodded faintly. “Thank you.”

Watching his retreating back, Jennifer, scolded for her venom, grumbled, “Why’d you tell him where Miss Tiffany’s house is?”

The other laughed. “A mere beggar trying to crash Tiffany’s banquet—don’t you think something fun might happen?”

“You’re the playful one.”

“Let’s go to Tiffany’s and watch the show.”

Yun Xueqing trudged through the snow, deep and shallow steps, toward Tiffany’s home with his match basket.

Dressed like this, he didn’t expect entry, nor was he fully counting on finding Fu Wuxuan there.

That famed Miss Tiffany seemed wealthy; her guests were all elites who could easily buy a few boxes of his matches.

Thinking this, he followed the road and soon arrived at Tiffany’s manor.

Numerous carriages parked outside, lights blazed within, and clamor echoed out—it was clearly the banquet venue.

He arrived neither too early nor late; the banquet was minutes from starting. Guards at the entrance shooed him away before he could enter. “Beggar, get lost—don’t ruin Miss Tiffany’s mood.”

Yun Xueqing stood outside expressionlessly, scanning the arriving guests for a familiar face.

Suddenly, someone said, “Since when do beggars get to attend Miss Tiffany’s banquet?”

Yun Xueqing looked up to see a haughty blond man in fine clothes, chin raised, eyeing him disdainfully.

The butler in tails wiped sweat frantically. “Young Master James, this beggar isn’t an invited guest. We’ve tried chasing him off, but he won’t leave…”

“I’m not a beggar.”

James scoffed, digging in his ear. “What?”

“I’m not a beggar,” Yun Xueqing repeated calmly, his tone mild. “I’m selling matches.”