Chapter 28: The Price of Greatness
The roar was deafening, it reverberated through the room, leaving everyone's ears ringing and their hearts pounding.
I have no idea what the old Taoist did, but in the wake of that sound, a shadowy wisp emerged from my head.
With a swift movement, the old man snatched it out of the air and stuffed it into his wine gourd.
He shook the gourd, causing the shadowy wisp to swirl within, before taking a long swig.
"A soul imbued with the destiny of the four yangs," he declared with a satisfied smack of his lips, "adds a certain something to the flavor."
Securing the gourd on his belt, he turned to my dumbfounded family.
"Let the boy rest for three days. I will return for him then."
And with that, he vanished, leaving us in stunned silence.
That was it?
Granny Liu had spent the entire day frantically searching for a cure, yet this old man had healed me in less than a minute.
As if to confirm this miracle, the discoloration on my skin disappeared before their very eyes.
My breathing returned to normal, and even the fever subsided.
Granny Liu studied me carefully, her weathered face etched with disbelief.
"That old man is no ordinary daoist," she breathed, "his abilities are extraordinary."
"Is Xiao Jie going to be alright?" Grandfather asked, still struggling to process everything that had just transpired.
Granny Liu offered a firm nod.
"The boy is completely healed. In a few days, he'll be back to his old self, full of energy and mischief. He is a blessed child, destined for great things. This illness…it was merely a trial. Now, under the guidance of that old master, he will overcome any obstacle and achieve greatness."
Relief washed over my family.
However, the thought of the old Taoist returning for me in three days—and not seeing him again for ten years—cast a shadow on our newfound joy.
Grandfather, in particular, was distraught.
Ten years was a lifetime.
He would be an old man by then. He wasn't sure if he would even live long enough to see me again.
Granny Liu took it upon herself to console our family, assuring Grandfather that he was strong and would surely live to be a hundred.
She reminded us that although we didn't know who the old Taoist was, his abilities spoke for themselves.
By accepting me as his disciple, he was offering me a chance to learn from the best.
Granny Liu's instincts were spot on.
I would later come to learn just how incredible my master truly was.
His name was Li Xuantong, and he was a legend—the reigning King of Fengshui.
His knowledge and mastery of this ancient art were unmatched.
As for the men who had come to our house that day seeking to take me as a disciple...they were not mere fortune tellers, but titans in the world of Fengshui.
You see, there are four major schools of Fengshui:
* The Eight Mansions School, led by the formidable Monk Jue Ming.
This school traced its lineage back to the Tang Dynasty monk, Yixing, renowned for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The Eight Mansions School combined the principles of the Eight Trigrams, the Nine Stars, and the Eight Mansions, using the movements of celestial bodies to divine an individual's fate and guide their path.
* The Xuan Kong School, headed by the venerable Shen.
This school believed that true Fengshui relied on understanding the natural landscape—the flow of rivers, the position of mountains, the lay of the land.
It drew upon ancient texts like the "Book of Burial" and relied on intricate calculations to determine the most auspicious locations for homes, businesses, and even tombs.
* The Yang Gong School, represented by the middle-aged master, Yang, whose family had been practicing Fengshui for generations.
This school placed great emphasis on the concept of "dragon veins" – lines of energy that flowed throughout the earth.
Masters of the Yang Gong School were said to be able to sense these veins and harness their power to bring good fortune.
* The Golden Lock Jade Gate School, also known as Passing-by Yin and Yang, mastered by the elegant Madame Ma.
As its name suggests, this school specialized in making swift and accurate assessments of energy and fortune, with masters often able to divine the secrets of a place just by passing by.
These four individuals were known throughout China as the Southern Monk, the Northern Shen, the Eastern Yang, and the Western Ma.
They represented the pinnacle of Fengshui mastery.
And yet, my master, Li Xuantong, was in a league of his own.
There was a saying: *"The Southern Monk, the Northern Shen, the Eastern Yang, and the Western Ma—combined they are no match for a single Li Xuantong."*
He had achieved what few others could even dream of—he had integrated the wisdom of all four schools to create his own, the Qimen School, and in doing so, he had become a living legend.
It was no wonder, then, that upon seeing Li Xuantong, the four masters immediately abandoned their pursuit.
They recognized his superiority, understanding that to challenge him would be futile.
But why were these masters, these pillars of their respective schools, so fixated on taking me, a simple village boy, as their disciple?
They had each, through their own methods, witnessed the celestial upheaval that coincided with my illness.
The emergence of the four-yang destiny, the uncanny red moon, the bowing fox spirits—all pointed to something extraordinary.
It was clear that I, a boy seemingly cursed with misfortune, was in fact blessed with a destiny that had the potential to reshape the very fabric of their world.
In truth, I was destined for greatness no matter which path I chose that day.
However, fate, it seemed, had other plans, guiding me towards the tutelage of Li Xuantong himself.
The day after his visit, I woke, weak but alive.
My family showered me with affection, spoiling me with treats and attention.
Never before had I felt so loved—and never again would I feel so much at peace.
We all knew what was coming.
The thought of parting with me, their only grandson and son, filled their hearts with dread.
My father even suggested we defy the old Taoist—hide me away and claim I had run off.
But Granny Liu, wise as ever, advised against it.
A promise made was a debt unpaid. If we were to break our word, who knew what repercussions might follow?
And so, three days later, just as he promised, the old Taoist returned.
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