Chapter Thirty-Two: Xuan Yangzi

Before long, Wei Liang heard the commotion outside and ushered Xuan Yangzi into the house, leaving Li Zhihe and Yi An behind without a second thought.

Li Zhihe curled his lip in disdain. “So mysterious—what secrets could two grown men possibly have?”

“Well, you never know.” Yi An couldn’t help but laugh, his amusement clear. Despite Li Zhihe’s usual gruff exterior, he was surprisingly perceptive.

……

Wei Liang arranged a seat for Xuan Yangzi and asked with a smile, “Old man, aren’t you supposed to be pursuing your path to immortality? What brings you here with so much leisure today?”

“I came to the city to handle an old matter, and thought I’d stop by to see you,” Xuan Yangzi replied.

“Then you must stay a few days longer. It’s been some time since we last met.” Though Wei Liang knew his guest would not linger, he couldn’t help but make the invitation.

Ever since their acquaintance began, Xuan Yangzi’s heart had belonged solely to cultivation. Wei Liang had tried to persuade him before, but Xuan Yangzi had always insisted that the city’s spiritual energy was too chaotic—he would stay no longer than absolutely necessary.

“Very well, I’ll trouble you for a few days then,” Xuan Yangzi agreed with a nod and a smile.

Wei Liang was about to launch into a speech he’d prepared long ago, but just as the words reached his lips, he realized what Xuan Yangzi had just said. He paused, surprised. “What?”

“The old Taoist agreed. Or were you only joking just now?” Xuan Yangzi asked suspiciously.

“No, no, I just didn’t catch what you said—getting old, you know,” Wei Liang replied with an awkward laugh.

Xuan Yangzi let the matter drop and instead asked in all seriousness, “Have you had any unusual experiences lately?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wei Liang eyed him warily. Though this old Taoist wasn’t particularly skilled, he was a notorious prophet of misfortune.

Back in Chang’an, the man had once foretold a calamity of blood, and it had come to pass shortly after. If not for Li Zhihe’s protection at a critical moment, Wei Liang would have met a grim fate.

Another time, Xuan Yangzi had warned that his brow was shrouded in darkness, portending disaster. Sure enough, Wei Liang was soon framed by a villain. If the emperor hadn’t known he was innocent and turned the situation to his advantage, things would have ended badly.

Ever since Wei Liang had known him, whenever Xuan Yangzi’s tone turned serious, it was a sure sign of trouble.

“Haha, don’t get the wrong idea. I mean nothing by it. It’s just that you seem to be enjoying a change of fortune lately—the gloom that once clung to you is gone,” Xuan Yangzi said, noticing Wei Liang’s suspicious gaze and smiling slightly.

“You’re the one with bad luck,” Wei Liang retorted irritably.

“So that’s how it is! No wonder you used to avoid me—not because the city’s aura is chaotic, but because you were afraid I’d bring you bad luck!” Wei Liang snapped, thoroughly exasperated.

Xuan Yangzi had once told him, “You’re dogged by misfortune; making it this far hasn’t been easy.” At the time, Wei Liang hadn’t paid much heed—Xuan Yangzi always sounded like a charlatan.

“Confucius did not speak of ghosts and spirits.” Wei Liang had never believed in such things.

Only now did he realize what Xuan Yangzi had been playing at all along. The man had been keeping his distance precisely because of Wei Liang’s “unlucky aura.”

……

“Come on, old Taoist, you’ve known me for so many years—search your heart and tell me, am I really that kind of person?” Xuan Yangzi protested, looking innocent.

“Hmph, putting on a show,” Wei Liang grumbled, not bothering to argue.

“You’ve really driven me to despair! When I first read your fortune, it was plunging fast into a major decline, and even those close to you risked being implicated. And my own destiny clashes with yours—spending too much time together would bring me nothing but trouble. If not for the scholarly air that protects you, and the mutual restraint between us, I’d have suffered for sure…”

“But today, from outside, I saw auspicious clouds rising over you—a sign of great fortune, as if a blessing had descended. At first I doubted my own eyes, but when I saw you up close, I was sure: the misfortune that haunted your fate has been suppressed, replaced by a flourishing, rising trend.”

Xuan Yangzi spoke in a measured, gentle tone. Normally, he couldn’t reveal so much about fate—such things were mysterious, and to disclose too much would shorten his own life. But since Wei Liang’s destiny had changed, there was no longer any taboo.

At first, he’d only given a few vague hints, since Wei Liang never believed in such things anyway.

“I’m not buying it, so just be straight with me. What do you really want? For the sake of our long friendship, as long as it isn’t outrageous, I’ll agree—just don’t mention bad luck anymore,” Wei Liang said with a dark expression. Still feeling unsatisfied, he added, “Frankly, you look like bad luck yourself.”

He still couldn’t fathom what the emperor had seen in this so-called master, to entrust him with the title of National Preceptor for the Northern Wilds. Though the position had lost real power since the second preceptor, no one dared underestimate it.

The first preceptor had founded the House of the Eccentrics, an institution of extraordinary individuals with enormous influence in the Northern Wilds. The National Preceptor was its sole leader; even the emperor could not command the House directly.

The House’s purpose was just as its name implied: to handle matters beyond ordinary comprehension, such as rogue warriors or malevolent spirits. The organization rarely appeared in public view and was known only to the powerful elite.

“Ah, this is too much for me. Fine, fine—you don’t believe me, so I’ll drop the matter,” Xuan Yangzi said bitterly.

“Wait, are you serious?” Wei Liang asked, uncertain if this was some sort of trick, but Xuan Yangzi’s manner seemed genuine.

“I never speak idly. It’s just that you don’t believe,” Xuan Yangzi replied calmly.

“Since retiring, I’ve stayed here reading, reciting poetry, and not much else. Well, I did take on half a disciple—I don’t know if that counts,” Wei Liang mused, humoring Xuan Yangzi’s act for the sake of their friendship.

“What do you mean, half a disciple?” Xuan Yangzi asked in surprise. He remembered the young cultivator he’d seen in the courtyard—could that be who Wei Liang meant?

“You know my circumstances…” Wei Liang said with a wry smile, then recounted the story.

“So that’s it. I saw the boy earlier—he is indeed exceptional. The one who chose him may have some surprises in store.” Xuan Yangzi nodded, a faint suspicion forming in his mind, though he couldn’t see through Yi An at all, which prevented him from confirming his guess.

But linking Yi An’s strangeness with Wei Liang’s transformation, the picture became almost clear.

A person’s destiny is not unchangeable, but throughout history, few have truly overturned fate.

The Great Dao numbers fifty, Heaven evolves forty-nine, and one is hidden.

Of the fifty workings of the world, only forty-nine manifest—the remaining one is fate’s secret.

Yet how many have sought that sliver of hope, always just out of reach?

Could that boy be one blessed with extraordinary fortune—shielded by the will of Heaven, making his fate inscrutable?

That alone could explain the mystery.

Xuan Yangzi sighed inwardly. The heavens are unfair—some are born with natural advantages, leaving those who struggle in cultivation with little hope.

Heaven remained silent.

……

After that, Xuan Yangzi took up residence, but began making repeated visits to Yi An, leaving Yi An baffled. Could it be, as Li Zhihe joked, that the old Taoist had some improper intentions toward him?

The thought sent a chill down Yi An’s spine, and he quickly banished it—clearly, Li Zhihe had led him astray.

Still, the old Taoist did have some skill, having reached the level of soul projection—a fact Yi An had only uncovered after some subtle probing.

In the courtyard, Yi An found himself in conversation with Xuan Yangzi, who first inquired about his origins, then rambled on with what seemed to Yi An an endless stream of meaningless chatter.

Tomorrow, after making the necessary revisions, he would return to reload the chapters and continue reading. For now, the rest would have to wait. Sorry for the interruption.