I'd been cooped up at home for three days — long enough to nearly stare the succulents on the balcony into bloom. Jade Lin walked past carrying a freshly washed bunch of grapes, shot me a sideways glance, and said, "Stay in any longer and you'll be playing Ultraman with River."

I snatched a grape and popped it in my mouth. The sweet-tart juice burst across my tongue. "Can't help it — I just got back. A man needs time to readjust to mortal life."

"Readjust?" Jade Lin set the grapes down in front of me. "Old Wang stops me every time he sees me. Goes on and on: 'When's your Ethan Lu coming back out? Ever since his grilled fish stall closed, my fish sales dropped by half.'"

Mention of Old Wang and that faint itch of curiosity stirred in my chest again. The old man who sold fish at the wet market — always had a pipe clamped between his teeth, and carved into his scale weight was a blurred character: zhen. Uncle Zhang and the others belonged to the Demon Demon Suppression Bureau, but Old Wang's zhen was written in an archaic style utterly unlike the ones on Bureau tokens. Elder Kai had once mentioned that Old Wang had been selling fish longer than he had been in the Bureau.

"All right. I'll go pay Old Wang a visit today." I slapped my knee, packed my things into the qiankun pouch, and headed for the door. Without the old canvas bag, I felt considerably lighter.

"Back early, and don't forget to pick up some spices for the grilled fish."

The wet market was exactly as I remembered — the raw smell of fish mingled with the fragrance of fruit and vegetables, vendors' calls rising and falling in an endless chorus. A small crowd had gathered around Old Wang's stall. He was weighing fish at an unhurried pace, the ancient steelyard swaying gently in his hand, the tiny zhen on the weight flickering in and out of view in the morning light.

"Uncle Wang," I parked my bike beside the stall, "long time no see. My hands were getting itchy, so I figured I'd come out and man a stall again."

Old Wang looked up, his wrinkles folding into a grin. "Young Ethan — I've been waiting on you."

He set the steelyard to one side and gestured for me to sit. "Rest a bit first. The fish are fresh today — just brought in from the East Sea."

"Uncle Wang, that steelyard of yours — the beam and the weight — they're not ordinary, are they."

Old Wang drew a long pull on his pipe; sparks glowed in the tobacco. "Sharp eyes, young man. That steelyard — same as your chopping board — neither one is a common thing."

A jolt ran through me, though I kept my face still. "Oh? I'd love to hear more."

Old Wang tapped the weight. "See this character — zhen. Not the zhen in Demon Demon Suppression Bureau. This is zhen as in Zhenhai — Subduing the Sea. My ancestors were ancient Zhenhai cultivators."

"Zhenhai cultivators?" The visions the Zhenhai jade pendant had shown me surfaced in my mind — a white-robed cultivator, immortal sword in hand. "The lineage that suppressed the great deep-sea demons?"

Old Wang's eyes lit up. "You know of them?"

The Warcurrent Blade in my qiankun pouch seemed to resonate with a faint tremor. "A little. My chopping board seems to share some connection with the Zhenhai lineage as well."

Old Wang set down his pipe and looked toward my qiankun pouch. "That's right. Your chopping board was left behind when a great master of my ancestors' line underwent bingJie — dissolution upon death. He was the leader of the Zhenhai lineage, a cultivator of the God Transformation stage. Before he dissolved, his natal immortal sword shattered into several pieces that scattered across the mortal world. One piece was kept by my ancestor, with the instruction: 'Give it to one fated to receive it.'"

I drew a sharp breath. God Transformation stage. What did that even mean in scale? The Director was only at the Nascent Soul stage — and this was a weapon fragment left behind by a God Transformation cultivator...

"And your steelyard..." I looked at the ancient beam and weight.

Old Wang laid the steelyard flat across his palm. "This is called the Zhenhai Scale. Also a relic of my ancestors. It looks like it weighs fish — but in truth it measures the abundance of spiritual energy, and even... the good and evil in a person's heart."

He paused and looked at me. "The first time you came to buy fish, the weight sank three fen on its own. Right then I knew you were no ordinary person."

The old System's voice suddenly rang out in my head: "Didn't I tell you Old Wang was a sly old fox! Anyone who can wield an ancient divine artifact is at least at the Core Formation stage — maybe even Nascent Soul!"

End of Chapter 67: The Old Scale That Weighs More Than Fish