One night, in one city, three more heartbroken people appeared.
Han Feiyu was disappointed that he didn't see the fortune teller; it was as if the man was deliberately avoiding him.
Old Han began to doubt his own efforts over the years because of Han Feiyu's exaggerated talent as a storyteller. Did he even deserve to be called a storyteller?
My whole body felt like it was about to crack open.
As for the fortune teller? He didn't go out for a single day. Although he wasn't short of money and had food at home, he still felt uncomfortable staying at home all day.
Every few days, he would have his fortune told, and it would always turn out to be very bad. He felt like he wasn't a shut-in, but rather like he was in prison.
Of course, the three of them quickly adjusted their mindset.
Since the fortune teller is so skilled, and he just happened to avoid me, it means he's quite capable.
Han Feiyu thought to himself that once he turned it into a book—no, I mean, shared it with others—he would definitely benefit greatly.
It's not a problem if he's not here this time. At worst, he can go back to his hometown to continue his training as a storyteller. Once he's strong enough, he can come back every few days.
Old Han also let it go. It was a good thing that his son was capable. If Han Feiyu did well in the future, the two of them would go on a rampage together.
The fortune teller also made a decision in his heart: So what if we can't go out today?
At worst, he can do another divination tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or the day after that. He can't be stuck in the house every single day, can he?
No matter how the world changes, time continues to flow and will not stop for anything.
As planned, the next afternoon, Old Man Han took Han Feiyu on a ride back with the caravan.
Because it was getting late, they rested for a while in a village along the way.
That village also traded with the caravans, providing them with places to rest and receiving money in return; it was a win-win situation.
"Glug glug... Grandpa, the people here are quite nice, very hospitable."
After drinking a bowl of water, Han Feiyu looked out the window. Their arrival had made the village much more lively.
"Yes, this is a case of good deeds being rewarded. Their kindness led them to accept this extra income from the caravan."
Don't underestimate the small amount of money each time; with the constant flow of people coming and going, over time, the villagers' lives will improve considerably.
The two stopped talking about what they had just discussed; it was just a minor incident on their way out.
Having recognized Han Feiyu's talent, Old Man Han immediately began training him as a storyteller upon returning to the courtyard.
"Be serious, kid. How do you manage to sleep at your age?"
Look up at me and tell me about the work I asked you to study before. Did you understand the thoughts of the great swordsman in it?
"Uh, I sensed his homesickness?"
Old Han: ...
Unable to make a decision, and overcome by homesickness, the old man remained silent for a moment, then reached for the back scratcher beside him, wanting to give Han Feiyu a complete childhood.
"Stop right there, you idiot, don't run away!"
"You think I'll just stop because you tell me to? Old man, wouldn't that make me lose face?"
The courtyard was filled with laughter and cheerful conversation, creating a lively atmosphere.
And so, about three more days passed, and Han Feiyu once again embarked on the path of a storyteller.
He also mastered the remaining three core abilities of a storyteller: recitation, resonance, and reproduction.
Of course, the two branches of fabrication and acquisition are also progressing simultaneously.
The fictional stories represented by fiction can be continuously reinforced by spreading these stories, thus strengthening the fictional book that served as the original manuscript.
The same principle applies to seizure. If Han Feiyu continues to use the "Book of ■■" and spread their stories, the original manuscript will be strengthened.
Because Han Feiyu's progress was rapid, Old Man Han gave him a three-day break.
The old man had also made arrangements with a restaurant, and Han Feiyu would be performing as a storyteller on stage in three days.
As he walked along the street, he kept observing the passersby around him, his dagger hidden in his sleeve.
"That's good. There are still three days left, so at least I can move around freely."
I've figured out the ability to record things very well, but I haven't had the chance to try fabricating or seizing anything yet..."
Fiction takes time to build up and evoke emotions, but it's easy to seize power.
To put it bluntly, his current actions are about finding a suitable target and then obtaining his first original manuscript.
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