The Classic of Destiny

In the Jingyuan era of the Great Zhou, the dynasty's fate was running out, and one's birth status determined one's place in the world.

All the prodigies under heaven believed themselves to be children of destiny. Only the one-eyed, lame pawnshop clerk at the end of Qingshi Alley knew the truth:

that little bit of fortune they had was borrowed from him.

The Longevity Pawnshop accepted no dead objects, only luck.

One strand of luck, one percent interest per day, compounded.

On this street, street thugs beat him, bullies trampled him, and even passing dogs barked at him.

People didn't know that the pawnshop had one ironclad rule: the more wretched and lowly its clerk, the more readily it opened its doors to customers. Anyone who thought they could trample him at will would become a customer of the pawnshop without even realizing it.

Many years later, the dynasty teetered on the brink of collapse, and the prodigies reached the end of their road.

The kings, nobles, ministers, and generals who had once stood above all suddenly discovered that the cultivation, power, and lifespans they were so proud of were all written on a yellowed pawn ticket.

The lame, blind clerk opened the ledger that had been gathering dust.

"Everyone, your time is up."

"Time to settle the books."