The tall and thin Taoist dipped his finger in wine and continued to write on the rosewood table. Very soon, he had copied all the twenty-nine characters on the note. He sucked his finger and put his hands down. He lowered himself to take a closer look at the table, carefully scanning over the pieces of paper in the account book.

His eyebrows became more tightly knitted as he continued. He shook his head more and more frequently with even more confusion. "What kind of writing style is this? I've never seen it before. There's no fluctuation in the primordial Qi, so why would it be found in abundance here? The characters are obviously messy, but why do I feel a tightness in my mind when I trace them with my concentration?"

Shaking his head, he stood up and straightened his body. He paced inside the room before quickly returning to the rosewood table, examining the characters on the paper. His eyebrows remained tightly knotted. He shook his head and mumbled repeatedly, "Blocked! It's all