Chapter 51: Chapter Fifty-One: Hidden Trees

The next day, Mr. Zhuang unusually did not sleep in; seeing Mo Hua, he waved him over. "Mo Hua, come with me."

Mr. Zhuang led Mo Hua to the study and asked, "How many times have you practiced the Three Talents Array?"

Mo Hua was deeply grateful to Mr. Zhuang and did not wish to conceal anything, but the Dao Stele was mysterious, and he found it hard to speak of it. Yet he also did not want to lie, so he replied honestly:

"Sir, I practiced it three or four times on paper, then another seven or eight times in my dreams."

It was true—just without mentioning the Dao Stele.

Mr. Zhuang blinked in surprise. "In your dreams?"

"Yes," Mo Hua said. "When I fall asleep, I can still draw the array in my dreams."

Mr. Zhuang frowned slightly, studying Mo Hua—and found his expression sincere, his eyes clear as if reflecting Mr. Zhuang's own image.

Mr. Zhuang chuckled. "I see."

See what…?

Mo Hua looked at Mr. Zhuang, puzzled.

After a moment of thought, Mr. Zhuang turned to Mo Hua and warned:

"Say this only to me. From now on, if anyone asks, you need not answer—and never mention drawing arrays in your dreams."

"But what if they press for details?"

"If they press, just say what I told you before—that you learned meditation, so you grasp arrays quickly."

"What if they ask for the meditation technique's method?"

Mr. Zhuang shrugged. "Don't give it if you can avoid it. If they try to take it by force, kill them. If you can't kill them, can't beat them, and can't escape, then give them the meditation technique—methods are external things; your life is yours alone."

Mo Hua thought it over and found it reasonable, but still asked:

"What if someone learns the meditation technique and finds it doesn't speed up array learning?"

"Then…"

Mr. Zhuang thought a moment and said, "You'll have to say you're naturally gifted, with perfect memory—that you learn arrays after seeing them just a few times. And remember: when you say this, be arrogant. Put on a look of utter disdain, make them believe you're a once-in-a-million genius."

"A look of utter disdain?"

"I'll demonstrate. Watch and learn."

Mr. Zhuang shed his lazy demeanor, suddenly lifting his head like a slumbering dragon—his posture haughty, self-assured, gazing down upon all mountains as if they were mere hillocks.

After a moment of arrogance, Mr. Zhuang's expression returned to languid ease. He told Mo Hua:

"Just like that. Practice it when you have time."

Mo Hua was deeply shaken.

Mr. Zhuang usually looked like an immortal of transcendent grace—but when lying, he did so without the slightest hesitation.

When alone, Mo Hua stood by the pond, hands on hips, chest puffed out, trying to mimic arrogance—but he could never match Mr. Zhuang's commanding aura.

"Cultivation is a vast subject. It seems I must learn more from Mr. Zhuang—not just cultivation and arrays, but all these other things too."

Mo Hua resolved: he must practice this act of pretense well, whenever he had the chance.

As dusk fell, Mo Hua took his leave and returned home.

After Mo Hua left, Mr. Zhuang lay on the bamboo pavilion's reclining chair, lost in thought. The Puppet Elder sat beside him, playing chess alone.

A breeze passed through the pavilion. After long contemplation, Mr. Zhuang suddenly said, "Not right."

The Puppet Elder lifted his eyelids. "What's not right?"

"That boy, Mo Hua…"

The Puppet Elder glanced at Mr. Zhuang. "You think he's not telling the truth?"

"Whether he tells the truth doesn't matter. Some things are simply not meant to be spoken."

"Then what's wrong?"

"He's learning too fast," Mr. Zhuang frowned.

The Puppet Elder blinked. "Didn't you say that already?"

Mr. Zhuang said, "As my provisional disciple, if he learns too fast, he'll attract trouble."

The Puppet Elder placed a stone. "He's not that fast. Mo Hua's talent and comprehension are still far below yours in your youth—and still lag behind many scions of noble houses."

Mr. Zhuang shook his head. "Don't compare that way. Noble houses have deep roots and inherited knowledge—even a pig raised among them learns arrays faster than an ordinary person. As for me…"

Mr. Zhuang's tone was calm. "In the cultivation world, those with greater array talent than me are few and far between. It's normal they can't match me."

Mr. Zhuang spoke with a calm voice, uttering arrogant words.

Too bad no one applauded—the Puppet Elder sat beside him, playing chess, too lazy to even look up.

Mr. Zhuang missed Mo Hua. If Mo Hua were beside him, those bright eyes would surely be filled with admiration.

Mr. Zhuang sighed:

"Mo Hua is different. He comes from a cultivator without family or lineage—his foundation in arrays is too weak. If he advances too quickly, he'll draw attention—and possibly invite death."

"You've become cautious. Rare for you," the Puppet Elder said, half-smiling.

Mr. Zhuang stretched. "A tree that towers above the forest invites the wind's destruction. I didn't understand the value of concealing brilliance or thinking ahead—so I suffered. Now I do."

"So what will you do? Stop teaching him?"

Mr. Zhuang lay back, fingers tapping the armrest. "I'll still teach him. As my disciple—even if not a direct one—I can't let him learn only this much. Otherwise, others will know, and it'll damage my reputation and disgrace my sect."

The Puppet Elder said, "You never cared about such empty fame before."

"I'm older now. I care about face."

The Puppet Elder looked at the lazy Mr. Zhuang. "I doubt it."

Mr. Zhuang ignored him, closed his eyes, as if deep in thought—or perhaps dozing.

The Puppet Elder continued playing chess as always.

Night deepened; the evening breeze stirred the mountains, rustling the trees.

Mr. Zhuang suddenly opened his eyes, looked at the mountain forest under the night sky, and murmured softly:

"When a tree stands out from the forest, the wind will surely break it... so if a tree does not stand out from the forest, the wind cannot break it."

Elder Kui looked at him with slight puzzlement, while Mr. Zhuang's gaze rose and fell with the trees of the mountain, and he said meaningfully: "Hide the tree within the forest, and it will not stand alone among the trees."

Elder Kui furrowed his brow.

Mr. Zhuang's gaze then swept past the mountain forest and fell upon the gate of the courtyard.

Every morning, the Bai siblings would come up the mountain to pay a visit.

Those two children had exceptional talent—they were the finest of Lin Mu.

The next morning, the Bai siblings once again came to pay their respects at the mountain. Unlike in the past, when they stepped forward to bow at the gate, the bamboo door that was usually tightly shut suddenly opened.

At the same time, a plaque reading "Zuowang Residence" appeared before the gate.

Behind the door was a courtyard, where a scholar tree reached up to the sky, a small bridge spanned flowing water, clouds and mist swirled, and an air of the immortal hung thick.

Bai Zisheng said blankly:

"Auntie Xue... the courtyard gate is open. Does that mean Mr. Zhuang is willing to see us?"

Auntie Xue, usually calm, was stirred for a moment. "It should be."

Then she silently thought to herself:

"It's enough that Mr. Zhuang is willing to see us. Even if he does not take the Young Master and Young Lady as disciples right now, at the very least we can attend by his side. With the Young Master and Young Lady's talent, Mr. Zhuang will agree eventually."

Bai Zisheng's expression was slightly uneasy. He glanced at his sister beside him and saw that Bai Zixi's delicate face was as cool and aloof as always, with no extra emotion.

A flicker of heartache passed through Bai Zisheng's eyes. He then silently shielded his sister behind him and stepped into the courtyard.