I grew up poor. My mother was hot-tempered and lazy, and I dropped out of school early to work, dreaming all day of getting something for nothing.
One day, the villagers brought in a dying old man. No one dared go near him, so I sneaked over in the middle of the night, hoping to score a windfall.
As he lay dying, the old man passed his skills on to me. From then on, I could see through everything: whether antiques were genuine, whether people were good or evil, and the flaws in martial arts techniques.
I joined no sect and pledged allegiance to no dynasty. I walked my own path.
But when people in the martial world hear my name, they turn pale with fear: “That fiend can see right through the underwear of your ancestors, all eighteen generations of them!”
At the gambling house, I spotted the dealer’s tricks at a glance and won ten thousand taels of gold.
At the martial arts tournament, I publicly pointed out a flaw in the alliance leader’s swordsmanship.
When a cold-blooded beauty of an assassin came to kill me, I smiled and said, “That plum-blossom birthmark three inches below your navel is pretty distinctive.”
She froze in shock. “Y-You… how do you know?”
