Chapter 128: This Is the Truth!

Standing among a crowd of trendy urbanites, an old, thin Taoist priest should have looked as out of place as a chicken in a flock of cranes. Yet, to the eyes of onlookers, there was nothing strange about him at all.

It was as if the priest’s form were spectral, as if he did not exist. Or rather, he did exist, but he was merely part of the scenery—like the red walls, the ancient trees, the rockeries, or the fish in the pond. He was unobtrusive, unremarkable, perfectly harmonized with his surroundings, and blended seamlessly into nature.

The priest seemed to recognize Qin Luo, watching him with a face full of affectionate smiles. That smile was like a flower carved into a concrete floor—tangible and present, yet rarely noticed or appreciated.

Qin Luo felt as if he had been struck by a paralysis spell. He wanted to move, but could not. He had so much to say, yet words choked his throat, leaving him unable to utter a sound.

"Tourists, dear tourists! We are heading to the next attraction—the Princess’s Martial Arts Arena," a tour guide shouted, her voice hoarse as she blew into a megaphone, seeing that her group had gathered to watch the filming instead of moving on. If they delayed any longer, they wouldn’t be able to finish the rest of the tour.

The crowd stirred. Most followed the guide deeper into the complex, though a stubborn few, more interested in the filming, lingered by the windows.

Once the main group had departed, Qin Luo suddenly realized the priest was gone. Heart racing, he grabbed his eyebrow pencil and bolted outside.

"Qin Luo! Qin Luo! What’s wrong? What happened?" Li Qingcheng called out, seeing the strange expression on his face.

"Qin Luo, are you alright?" Chen Sixuan ran to the window to ask.

"I’m fine. I’ll be back in a moment," Qin Luo said, not looking back as he chased after the direction the crowd had left.

How could someone vanish in the blink of an eye?

Failing to find the old priest among the crowds, Qin Luo left the tour group and ran toward the winding corridor on the left, leading to a stone pavilion where the princess used to admire the flowers and the moon.

Suddenly, he saw the priest standing elegantly in a pavilion by the water, exuding an ethereal, immortal grace. The hiltless treasure sword slung across his back added a hint of lethal intent to his otherwise serene demeanor.

Qin Luo strode over, forcibly suppressing the surge of emotion in his heart, and fell to his knees with a loud thud, knocking his head against the ground three times.

The debt of saving his life was akin to a rebirth. Even if he were to kneel here and kowtow for three days and three nights, Qin Luo would have no complaints.

Born with the "Heavenly Yang Pulse," a terminal condition, even the legendary medical prodigy Qin Zheng—known as the "Medicine King"—had been helpless to cure him. To heal his grandson’s strange malady, Qin Zheng had traveled everywhere, consulting famous doctors. But as soon as they felt Qin Luo’s pulse, they could only shake their heads and sigh.

"A Heavenly Yang Pulse is a dead pulse granted by the heavens. It is beyond human power to reverse," an old man whose age was impossible to guess had told Qin Zheng.

Qin Luo remembered his indomitable grandfather standing with his face upturned, tears streaming down his cheeks. He had stood before the dry well in the courtyard for an entire night; when Qin Luo woke up the next morning, his grandfather’s hair and eyebrows were soaked with mountain dew, condensed into beads. That was the first time Qin Luo had understood the feeling of a heart aching—true heartache.

It was on that nameless mountain that the young, solitary Qin Luo had first met this nameless Taoist.

The moment they met, the priest had taken his pulse, just like all the other hidden masters, only to exclaim in wonder before shaking his head in regret.

"I know I’m going to die," the young Qin Luo, though small, was not afraid of strangers. He spoke with a face full of melancholy.

"Are you afraid of death?" The priest was surprised that such a young child would speak to him, let alone discuss the profound mystery of life and death.

"I’m not afraid. But I don’t want to die," Qin Luo replied. How could he want to die? He had such a happy family, such loving relatives. If he died, wouldn’t he never see them again?

"You are quite frank," the priest said with a smile.

"I’m already a person on the verge of death, what else is there to fear?" Qin Luo retorted angrily. He found the old man’s smile truly detestable. Here he was, about to die, and the old man was just standing there grinning like a fool. He wanted to slap that face—if only he could reach it.

The old priest stared at him in astonishment; the child’s maturity was far beyond his years. After a moment of thought, he said, "I can keep you from dying."

"You’re lying," Qin Luo pouted.

"We haven’t tried yet, so how do you know I’m lying?" the old man countered, staring at him.

"My grandfather and all those master doctors couldn't heal me. How could you?" Even at a young age, our protagonist knew how to use reverse psychology.

"Taoist methods are boundless, full of a thousand mysteries and ten thousand paths. How can they be compared to ordinary medicine?" the old priest explained with a smile, as if he were incapable of anger.

"Superstitious nonsense. I don’t believe it. My grandfather says we shouldn’t be superstitious," Qin Luo replied provokingly.

Hearing this, the old priest felt like turning on his heel and leaving. But after a moment of hesitation, he said, "Meeting is fate. I will give you two scrolls. If you practice diligently every day, it will preserve your life."

With that, the old man dropped two thin booklets and hurried away.

These two books were the *Twelve Brocades of Taoist Practice* and the *Art of Body Guidance*, which Qin Luo had practiced without fail ever since. The former built the foundation and regulated the body, while the latter strengthened his physique. Together, they had kept him alive until now.

Later, the Qin family had spent great effort searching for this Taoist, but to no avail. Qin Luo had kept the priest’s great kindness in his heart, but over a dozen years had passed without another chance to meet.

"Thank you, Master, for saving my life. Your disciple will never forget it," Qin Luo said, looking up at the old man.

The old priest turned around, smiling at him. Over a decade had passed; Qin Luo had grown from a sickly little brat into a refined young man, yet the priest’s appearance had not changed in the slightest. It was precisely because he hadn't changed that Qin Luo had recognized him at a glance.

"Master? I recall we never formally established a master-disciple relationship," the old man said with a chuckle.

"The act of transmitting the Tao and saving my life makes you my master by right," Qin Luo insisted.

The old priest laughed. "Saving you was merely an act of accumulating merit and practicing my faith. It does not deserve such a grand gesture."

"Regardless, I am alive because of you," Qin Luo said with a smile.

The old priest nodded. "Everything is governed by the unseen hand of fate. Thirteen years ago, I saw you near death. Thirteen years later, we meet again. Our fates are deeply intertwined."

He stepped forward and pulled Qin Luo to his feet, his fingers skillfully checking the pulse on his wrist. After a brief touch, he let go. "The Heavenly Yang Pulse is truly tyrannical. Over a dozen years of the *Twelve Brocades* have failed to dissolve that pure Yang spirit. It seems the legends are true—one must find a body of Pure Yin to balance it."

Qin Luo sighed. "I suppose I must leave it to fate. Didn't you say that everything is destined?"

"Opportunities and fate. When the time is right, the connection will manifest. There is no need to rush," the priest consoled him.

"I am not rushing. It is so difficult to see you; I must insist you stay in Yanjing for a few days so I can show my filial piety," Qin Luo said respectfully. He meant it from the bottom of his heart. An unpaid debt of kindness was like a loan; even if he couldn't repay it all at once, he had to offer some interest.

Qin Luo wanted this old man to stay and enjoy his remaining years. Seeing his sincerity, the priest said gently, "Those who seek the Tao cannot settle in one place. The Tao is found through seeking; if one does not seek, how can one attain it?"

Qin Luo found all this talk of Buddha and Tao quite taxing. When his grandfather made him practice calligraphy, he had to copy the *Tao Te Ching* or the *Diamond Sutra*. Each time he finished a passage, his head would throb with pain. Over time, he had just grown used to the torture. Now, hearing the priest talk about the "Tao" and "Heaven’s Will" made him feel sleepy again.

"What is the Tao that you are seeking, Master?" Qin Luo asked, forcing himself to stay focused.

"The Path of Heavenly Secrets."

"The Path of Heavenly Secrets? What is that?" Qin Luo felt like he was playing a word game.

"Heavenly Secrets is both a Taoist path and a sect. My sect honors Li Chunfeng, a Taoist of the Zhenguan era of the Tang Dynasty, as our founder. We take the quest to understand cause and effect and to glimpse the secrets of heaven as our foundation."

Although Qin Luo knew little of Taoism, he had heard his grandfather mention Li Chunfeng. He was a famous astronomer during the reign of Emperor Taizong of the Tang Dynasty and the author of the *Tui Bei Tu* (Push-Back Diagram).

The *Tui Bei Tu* was used to predict the fate of the Tang Dynasty. One day, while observing the stars, Li Chunfeng realized that Empress Wu would usurp the throne. Out of curiosity, he began to calculate the future, only to become so obsessed that he couldn't stop, eventually predicting over 2,000 years of Chinese history beyond the Tang. He only stopped when Yuan Tiangang pushed his back and said, "The secrets of heaven should not be leaked further; it is time to return and rest." That was the 60th image, hence the name *Tui Bei Tu*.

"Then why are you in Yanjing, Master? And... following along with so many people to 'seek the Tao'?" Qin Luo asked with a smile. He had seen the priest with the tour group; it seemed the old man was quite open-minded and enjoyed group travel.

"The Tao is everywhere," the old priest replied dismissively. "These mountains, these waters, these pavilions—every part of them holds a principle. If there is an opportunity, there is no harm in listening to the principles others speak of."

"Is the Tao just a principle?"

"It is a principle."

"What is a principle?"

The old priest smiled, then suddenly pulled his sword from its scabbard with his other hand.

*Clang!*

A dragon-like hum echoed as silver light flashed.

The old priest slashed diagonally, then pointed at a flying insect he had cut in half on the ground. "That," he said to Qin Luo, "is a principle."