The Almighty Mystic Just Wants A Quiet Life - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bo Nan thought he would sleep for a long time, but his eyes snapped open the exact second the clock struck seven. His body wasn’t used to it, but his mind had long ago habituated to this biological clock; he didn’t feel a trace of fatigue.

Downstairs, Bo Weiping was already up, eating breakfast while scrolling through a tablet. Hearing movement, he looked up, squinting his eyes at his son: “Hah! Did the sun rise in the west today?”

Bo Nan sat down beside him in loose loungewear and said, “Better not hang the laundry out today, Dad. It might rain blood.”

Bo Weiping: “Get out! How did I raise such a shameless little animal like you!”

Bo Nan served himself a bowl of porridge. Listening to the familiar insults felt surprisingly pleasant. Seeing the smile on Bo Nan’s face, Bo Weiping couldn’t help but chuckle: “Weren’t you out traveling? Why the sudden return?”

“Had my fill of fun, so I came back,” Bo Nan smiled. “I’m done with school anyway, might as well enjoy myself while I can, right?”

Bo Nan had finished his studies early; at twenty, he had just graduated.

“Enjoy yourself?!” Bo Weiping grew annoyed at his son’s smug attitude. “I’ve made arrangements. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to the company with your brother. You’ll be his secretary for two years, then I’ll promote you to run a branch office on your own.”

Bo Nan instinctively replied, “Even a dog wouldn’t want my brother’s life—”

He cut himself off halfway. Bo Yizhen had just come downstairs, raising an eyebrow: “Even a dog wouldn’t what? Dad, forget tomorrow. Let’s make it today. Eat up; after breakfast, I’m taking you to the office.”

Bo Nan: “…Can I not go?”

“What do you think?” Bo Yizhen countered calmly.

Bo Nan pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, looked at his predatory father, then at his equally predatory brother. For a moment, he felt genuinely cornered. He raised both hands in surrender: “Fine.”

I’ll just play along for now.

“This is Bo Nan, secretary assistant. Zhang Li, set up a desk for him. Bo Nan, follow me.” Bo Yizhen gave instructions to his special assistant and pulled Bo Nan into his office. He didn’t actually expect Bo Nan to do anything; putting a novice in charge of company affairs immediately would be a joke. Bo Nan’s main job for the next few months was simply to observe how he handled business, serve tea, and run errands.

“Understood, President Bo,” Zhang Li replied politely, nodding to Bo Nan before leaving to make arrangements.

Bo Nan, acting completely at home, headed straight for his brother’s private lounge: “Brother, I’m going to catch up on sleep. You get to work.”

Bo Yizhen looked at him and said, “There’s a cocktail party tonight. You’re coming with me.”

The subtext was clear: Sleep now, work tonight.

.Got it.” Bo Nan slammed the lounge door shut. He flopped onto the bed and started browsing his phone. He logged into a specialized forum, answered at least ten complex technical questions to successfully register, and posted: [Buying lightning-struck wood for 3 million, details inside].

He described the required dimensions and quality. After a moment of thought, he hopped off the bed, opened the door, and spoke to Bo Yizhen, who was talking to his assistant: “Brother, give me some money. I’m out.”

Bo Yizhen wasn’t angry at the interruption. He tilted his chin, signaling him to continue.

Bo Nan estimated the cost of the materials he needed to craft magical artifacts. He could collect them himself, but time was of the essence. “Twenty million for starters? I’ll ask for more if I need it.”

“What do you need that much for?” Bo Yizhen knew Bo Nan’s savings were roughly that amount. He actually had more, but his trust fund dividends were managed by a foundation and wouldn’t be released until he turned twenty-five. That was the family rule.

Bo Nan thought for a second: “Buying a car.”

“The truth.”

“Investing,” Bo Nan said. “The twenty million counts as your stake. 40% annual interest.”

Bo Yizhen raised an eyebrow: “And if you don’t hit that?”

Bo Nan grinned: “Then you’ve made a massive loss.”

Fine.” Before Bo Yizhen could finish, the lounge door slammed shut again. Bo Yizhen muttered, “…That little brat.”

The assistant: “…” Can I get back to business now?

Bo Nan checked his phone; the post already had replies.

1L: I’ll bid 3.01 million for the same specs. 2L: Stop playing, 1L. I’ll give 3.02 million. 3L: Psh, bunch of paupers. I’ll give 10 million.

Bo Nan knew 3 million was low for high-quality lightning-struck wood.

Lightning-struck wood is exactly what it sounds like, but there are nuances. Peach wood is best because it naturally wards off evil; combined with the “Great Yang” energy of heavenly lightning, it becomes a rare treasure. Even without a feng shui arrangement, just placing it in a house provides supreme protection.

Other woods were secondary. Woods with “Yin” properties were lower tier, but if one found an ancient locust or willow tree that survived a strike, it became a balance of extreme Yin and Yang—even rarer than peach wood. However, laypeople couldn’t handle those. If you put a raw lightning-struck willow in your house without treatment, your whole family might be “neatly packed” for the afterlife the next morning.

Bo Nan wanted peach, locust, or willow. He didn’t argue with the trolls, simply adding a comment: “Deal includes a ‘Grand Destiny’ layout.”

Now he just had to wait for the right person to bite. If he weren’t “poor,” he would have just thrown 30 million at the problem.

He didn’t realize his comment had caused a stir. A “Grand Destiny”? In the feng shui world, if it didn’t involve the fate of high officials or the ultra-wealthy, it couldn’t be called “Grand.”

11L: Is this newcomer a monster? 12L: Oho! Whoever has the wood, go for it! I just want to see what a ‘Grand Destiny’ looks like! 13L: OP, if you ever get the deal, check back in to let us know you’re safe. Otherwise, I’ll assume the client had you encased in cement and dropped in the ocean.

Bo Nan ignored them. He opened a document and began recording the emergence dates of natural treasures he remembered. This time, he didn’t have to kill his way to the top. First come, first served. If he remembered it, he would take it.

His first stop would be the bamboo forest on Little Green Mountain outside the city. He remembered a stalk of “Jade-Heart Bamboo” was due to emerge soon. He’d have to stake it out.

Hearing the muffled voices outside, Bo Nan spaced out for a moment and smiled. Outside was Bo Yizhen—a living, breathing Bo Yizhen. To him, that was enough.

The peacefulness made him drowsy. He fell asleep on the bed, thinking that when he woke up, he’d fix the feng shui in his brother’s office… let his brother make more money so he had more to spend.

That night.

Despite Bo Yizhen’s repeated warnings, Bo Nan slipped away to the catering area as soon as they arrived at the gala. he had zero patience for social networking. Besides, his family didn’t need two heads of the household.

As long as he was there, his family would never again dwindle down to just one person.

No accidents allowed.

Bo Nan casually grabbed a few snacks while scanning the faces in the crowd. He was planning how to tell his brother he wanted to “vacation” in the countryside starting tomorrow—staking out the Jade-Heart Bamboo would take at least two weeks.

Suddenly, he paused. An old acquaintance.

Bo Nan smiled and walked toward him.

It was a refined man in his forties. Like everyone else, he was in a suit. His navy blue blazer complemented his scholarly face, giving him a mature charm that would make young girls’ hearts flutter.

Bo Nan’s move was old-school but effective. He pretended to lose his balance and tipped an entire glass of red wine onto the man. He immediately apologized: “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

The person talking to the man barked: “What’s wrong with you? This is Mr. Jiang of the Jiang Group—”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Lian interrupted, speaking warmly to Bo Nan. “Just be more careful next time.”

Bo Nan lowered his eyes, looking like he’d just dodged a bullet: “Your clothes are ruined. Shall we go upstairs? I’ll help you clean up.”

Jiang Lian paused. He immediately understood the subtext. He looked Bo Nan up and down, then smiled: “I have business to discuss. Perhaps next time.”

It worked.

Bo Nan lowered his head in “embarrassment” and walked away. Sure enough, a few minutes later, someone handed him a key card, saying Mr. Jiang was waiting for him on the 18th floor.

Bo Nan took it with a smile but stopped outside the room.

Jiang Lian one of the men who had dismantled his family in his previous life. He’d take some interest now.

Bo Nan’s “seduction” was purely to get Jiang Lian alone; he didn’t want to hurt innocent bystanders.

He chuckled softly. Avoiding the cameras, he dropped a silver fork he’d swiped from the gala. He placed his hand on the door and tapped it once with his finger. Done.

“Fork” Cha sounds like “Divergence” Cha, and it carried his qi. As long as Jiang Lian stepped over it, it was enough to cause a “divergence” in his internal energy.

Where would it hit? His heart or his limbs? That depended on Jiang Lian’s luck.

Bo Nan was incredibly proficient in these petty tricks. In the past, his enemies hid their bases and ancestral graves like state secrets, giving him no room for grand layouts, so he often relied on these smaller methods.

Soon, noise came from inside. The moment the door opened, Bo Nan used a burst of qi to trip him. Jiang Lian stumbled and fell flat, his chest landing directly over the spot where the fork lay.

It seemed Mr. Jiang’s luck was poor.

Bo Nan touched the corner of his eye and leaned down to “check” on Jiang Lian—mostly for the cameras: “Mr. Jiang? Are you okay?”

Jiang Lian was unconscious, his breathing extremely shallow.

At that moment, the door to the next room opened. A man stepped out, saw the fallen Jiang Lian and Bo Nan, and frowned: “What happened?”

Bo Nan froze for a split second upon seeing the newcomer. The man was strikingly handsome with a noble air. One could already see the silhouette of the powerful leader he would become in ten years.

Bo Nan smiled gently: “He tripped and fainted… Could you watch him for a moment? I’ll go get help.”

Bai Yan-gui looked at the young man, his heart sinking. Why is he smiling? Jiang Lian is down; why is he happy? Did he do this?

Regardless, there were cameras everywhere, and Bai Yan-gui wasn’t afraid of being framed. If this young man really did it, him leaving was actually a safer option for Bai: “Fine.”

Bo Nan didn’t linger. He nodded and left.

Bai Yan-gui looked at the unconscious Jiang Lian and the key card on the floor. He thought about Bo Nan… he knew about the gala downstairs but hadn’t felt like attending. He had assumed Bo Nan was an heir to some family, but looking back at that face—it was too good. He’d never heard of him. He’s likely Jiang Lian’s kept lover.

With a face like that, why sell yourself?

Bai Yan-gui shook his head. Then a thought hit him, and his perfect composure cracked: Wait, did Jiang Lian just have a heart attack mid-tryst?

Bo Nan had no idea he’d been categorized as someone’s “lover.” He casually reported the “accident” to hotel staff, told Bo Yizhen he was heading home, and left.

Today was truly a day for meeting old acquaintances.

I can’t believe I ran into Bai Yan-gui…