O pequeno coitadinho reconhecido pela família rica é, na verdade, um grande mestre do misticismo

Bai Qianzhou, dressed in a gray Taoist robe with her hair slightly disheveled, squatted quietly by the roadside, her eyes vacant as she stared toward the end of the street, as if waiting for something. Three days ago, she had been driven down the mountain by a foul old man to wait for a "destined person." Yet, not only had no one appeared, she didn't even have money for a meal. She had planned to set up a stall to tell fortunes, but her bad luck was so overwhelming that three days had passed without a single customer. If not for her foresight in stuffing a few steamed buns into her bag before leaving, she might have starved to death.

Just as she was about to give up, a black sedan sped toward her, heading straight for her. She raised an eyebrow slightly and thought, "Sure enough, bad luck never leaves me, and I can't leave it behind either!"

At the moment the car was about to hit her, Bai Qianzhou moved. Her figure flashed, and with steady hands, she pressed firmly against the car’s hood. Though her touch seemed gentle, she easily halted the vehicle’s advance. The tires screeched harshly against the pavement, and the car trembled violently before coming to a stop. The hood was slightly dented from the impact, steam rising from beneath it.

Inside the car, the driver’s face was pale, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as cold sweat poured down his brow. He looked through the window at the seemingly fragile girl, disbelief written all over his face. The man in the back seat was equally stunned—he hadn’t expected her