Chapter 142: Fate Is Illusion, My Will Determines Destiny!

"Tai Ping Army…"

Li Guanyi looked at these three characters, his expression pausing slightly, then he continued reading, seeing it recorded: "The Tai Ping Army under Tai Ping Gong is unmatched in the world."

"The Tai Ping Army today is nothing but traitorous rebels!"

"Xue Tianxing fled, escaping beyond the passes, carving out a city among the warlords, seeking one man whom he claimed was the son of Tai Ping Gong, proclaiming him king, while declaring himself Great General, commanding great prestige, using the words of avenging Tai Ping Gong to recruit soldiers and gather arms."

"Another man, named Yuan Shitong, was a battle general under Tai Ping Gong, coarse and arrogant in nature."

"He also supported a youth, calling him the 'Son of Tai Ping Gong,' raising troops in the warlord lands beyond the passes, using the dark gold mask pattern as his banner, calling his force the Tai Ping Army, also referring to himself as the Loyal King's Tai Ping Army, establishing himself in the lands beyond the passes; the two sides clashed fiercely."

Li Guanyi flipped through this Juan Sect, his eyes lowered in silence—he did not know the truth of the Juan Sect.

On the Juan Sect were evaluations recorded by Chen state officials.

The Shi Guan's tone was deeply contemptuous.

"Merely a pack of wolves devouring a tiger."

"Not all military strategists in the world are upright and honorable; while Tai Ping Gong lived, he could suppress these tiger-like wolves; after Tai Ping Gong's death, they all took up arms, claiming their hearts were bent on avenging Tai Ping Gong—but beyond that, they may well have harbored ambitions to carve out their own glory."

"Human nature is this complex."

"They claim to avenge Tai Ping Gong, yet refuse to settle in our great Chen; yet raising banners, exploiting Tai Ping Gong's death to fracture the world—what loyalty or valor is that?"

"Fierce as a tiger, yet fallen to the lower rung."

"Observing their soldiers, both sides still held loyal sentiments, each believing themselves comrades of Tai Ping Gong, still fighting for the general who once shared gold with them—yet each side believed the other was the traitor stealing Tai Ping Gong's name to serve their own interests."

"Thus, their clashes were brutal."

"The title of the Fifth Greatest General in the world was too tempting."

"The heroes of the world are nothing but bloodthirsty beasts; when necessary, they will abandon not only their former commander who led them forward, but even their own parents."

Yet beneath this line of text was another line, written in vermilion ink.

"Too one-sided."

"Do not use your own thoughts to measure the hearts of these great generals."

"Their loyalty to Tai Ping Gong is admirable, but their loyalty is built upon their own judgments. Though the Twenty-Four Generals all served under him, you have all overlooked one point: these world-renowned generals will never truly obey any other general."

"Tai Ping Gong is dead."

"Yet neither Yuan Shitong nor Xue Tianxing would accept this outcome; they still longed to see on the battlefield the figure clad in black armor, wielding divine weapons, riding a Fire Qilin, wearing the mask, charging at the front."

"They all longed to raise this banner once more in the chaotic age."

"For this, they resorted to actions others could not comprehend—when court orders clashed with their commander's commands and the army mutinied, they needed a banner—the name of Tai Ping Gong's heir."

"Only then could the lowly soldiers have a core to cling to—even if it were false."

"Their struggles with each other stemmed from confidence in their own judgments and suspicion of the other's loyalty; the outcome of having no leader was naturally division and mutual slaughter; for these beasts of chaos, they would trust their own judgment and walk this path to the end."

"Let them fight each other to death."

Then, on the Juan Sect, came a reply.

【Thank you, Chancellor, for your insight】

Afterward came a flood of flattery, and this allowed Li Guanyi to know whose hand had written the vermilion ink—Dan Tai Xianming, a friend of Xue Daoyong's youth, yet now his enemy, leader of the scholarly clan, the Empress's father.

Li Guanyi looked at the Juan Sect.

Two great generals clashed beyond the passes, both supporting the "Son of Tai Ping Gong."

Both led the Tai Ping Army.

Xue Tianxing, ranked fifty-seventh on the Divine Generals List.

Yuan Shitong, ranked fifty-fourth on the Divine Generals List.

Among warlords without great nation backing, unable to ignite large-scale wars, they were absolute top-tier figures.

The complexity of the situation and human hearts left Li Guanyi speechless; after a long while, he continued flipping through—other Divine Generals: two had died in battle, two had fled to Ying State and now served as generals in the Ying court; one had gone to the Western Regions' Great Flag Camp; the rest were displaced, their whereabouts unknown.

Excluding the dead, the traitors, and the scattered.

Two generals remained alive.

Li Guanyi flipped through the Juan Sect:

"Gu Dao Hui: when Zhu Ge Qingkong and two other generals rebelled, Gu Dao Hui reported it to the court in advance, led troops to surround and kill them, personally beheading Zhu Ge Qingyun and the other two, carrying their heads to the throne; the emperor was pleased, the rebellion was quelled, and he was appointed Great General of the Jinwu Guard, a rank-two military official, enfeoffed as Wu Hou."

"Gong Zhaoqi: appointed Commander-in-Chief of Pacification, enfeoffed as Zhen Nan Bo."

Of the Twenty-Four Generals, some fled, some betrayed, some died, some raised their own banners, and some were traitors.

Ten years passed, storms rose and clouds surged—the changes came too swiftly.

Li Guanyi steadied his mind; he now understood the true effect of the dark gold mask. In Chen state's Juan Sect, there were descriptions of the founding monarch's armor and weapons: the dark gold mask was solemn and unbreakable, impervious to blades and swords.

Of course, if smashed onto the head, the dark gold mask might be unbreakable—but the skull might not be.

Perhaps in the end, it was a shattered skull beneath an intact mask.

The true utility lay in concealing one's own aura.

It nearly prevented sorcerers from locking onto a general during battle, making it easier to execute flanking maneuvers.

"No wonder Si Qing prefers this mask—it pairs perfectly with the Wulong-entwined armor, the Chengying Sword, and his Wu Gong martial stance."

Outside, the sound of palace attendants came; Li Guanyi returned the Juan Sect to its original place.

Then he disarranged some of the Bingfajuan Sect, creasing and wrinkling them.

Even if someone came, they would assume he had been reading these.

Then he removed his armor, changed into civilian clothes, chatted awhile with Ye Bu Yi and others, and slowly walked toward the Xue residence, thinking of matters of fate and fortune, thinking of the Twenty-Four Generals' fates recorded in the Juan Sect—seven or eight great generals had still left Chen State, vanishing without a trace.

Their Wu Gong—even without weapons or armor—

In the martial world, they would still be regional magnates, impossible to perish.

He wanted to know their whereabouts.

Li Guanyi's mind could think of only one place.

Ghost Market of the Netherworld.

Li Guanyi suddenly felt that this organization's existence across the entire realm was no accident.

But to enter the Ghost Market, one must have their own token.

Or perhaps use Simu Deqing's mask and the title of the Tenth Greatest Killer in the Realm?

Li Guanyi pondered silently, secretly noting this down, then silently thanked Simu Deqing.

No wonder it's you!

The Tenth Greatest Killer in the Realm!

Even dead, you're still outputting!

Li Guanyi's mood lifted slightly; thinking of the Imperial Prince, he walked on. The summer in Jiangnan was stifling, the air heavy with moisture—when had it started raining? A fine drizzle fell, pattering softly, turning the blue stone slabs into a serene, cool expanse as the boy stepped forward.

Then he turned and bumped into a black-shaven head.

Thud!!!

Li Guanyi's vision went black, and stars swirled around him.

Since his physique had improved, he had never encountered such a thing. He steadied himself and saw before him a monk in a gray robe, about forty or fifty years old, skin darkened, face lined—exactly the Western Living Buddha he had met before.

The Third Master of the Realm.

Li Guanyi said: "Elder."

Then he sidestepped to make way, but as he moved aside, the Living Buddha stepped forward—his foot nearly trod on Li Guanyi's. Li Guanyi shifted his steps several times, yet still collided with the Living Buddha.

He stepped back and said: "Elder, are you here for me?"

He must have figured it out by now.

The Western Living Buddha smiled: "Ah, young layman, you have a karmic connection with the Buddha."

"Old monk came today specifically for you, though you arrived a bit late—I was feeding some cats there, just right." He lifted his sleeve, beneath which lay several newborn kitten-like creatures.

The old monk chuckled: "If I'd met you earlier, these kittens wouldn't have had a chance to be petted, would they?"

"Young layman, Chen Chengbi, that martial madman, came to see me. Transmitting Wu Gong to you is no issue—but suddenly, I felt a whim to come see you. One reason is for these kittens, and secondly…"

"Also for the kittens."

He laughed, eyes twinkling mischievously: "Today, seeing you, I noticed you're different—so the old monk feels he must speak with you."

"Come with me."

Li Guanyi thought for a moment, then drew his sword and followed the old monk.

The old monk led him beneath a pavilion, and they sat down. The Western Living Buddha looked at the boy and smiled: "Young layman, you now carry a thread of purple qi, and much green fortune—both appeared suddenly."

"When I saw you last, you had only a single thread of fortune."

"Did you have a recent stroke of luck?"

Li Guanyi replied frankly: "I had a strange encounter. These fortunes were stolen from me—today, they returned."

The monk looked at him and smiled: "What a wonderful thing!"

The old monk stroked the kitten on his knee and said: "But I see that despite gaining fortune, you're troubled. Why? The world sees green and purple qi as the ultimate auspicious destiny—don't you think so?"

Li Guanyi sat there and voiced his doubt frankly:

"I truly don't believe it."

"If green and purple signify noble destiny, why was my fortune stolen back then?"

"Why did my parents die so young?"

"If purple qi truly means supreme imperial destiny, why did I beat someone today—and make him return everything, with interest?"

"And why did this fortune return to me?"

Li Guanyi looked at the monk before him and said:

"If imperial qi were truly so powerful, the Liang Kingdom's mandate would never have been stolen by the Chen Kingdom."

"If only those with imperial qi could achieve greatness, how could the Red Emperor have raised his three-foot sword and conquered the realm? Were his generals—the fortune-tellers, the pig-slaughters—all born with green and purple qi?"

"Yet they reached the end—and sought out soothsayers."

"Each one, deemed supremely auspicious."

"But at first, their fortune was so meager they couldn't even afford food."

The Western Living Buddha said: "It seems, young layman, you don't believe in fate."

Li Guanyi sat upright and replied:

"If fortune truly mattered so much, no kingdom in the realm would ever fall."

"If destiny truly decided everything, the rich would remain rich forever, and the poor's children, once blessed with auspicious destiny, would be stolen from, killed—this world would become exactly that. Yet all people believe in destiny, and yet purple qi still flows in mysterious ways."

"I still truly don't understand."

The Western Living Buddha thought for a moment, smiling warmly: "You are indeed remarkable—you've come this far on your own, just one step away."

"It seems I've come to guide you."

"Many heroes of the world are merely ordinary mortals; so-called destiny is merely something innate—children of the poor are born poor, children of the rich are born rich. So, young layman—"

"Do the children of the poor always remain poor for life? Do the children of the rich always remain rich?"

The Living Buddha answered himself: "No—because there is also postnatal fortune."

"The rich rarely last three generations; the poor may rise to the heavens in a single leap."

"All beings suffer because they cannot choose their birth—that is the initial fortune."

"Yet humble origins are not shameful: a Tangut serf's body once swept across the western wastes, establishing an unparalleled empire; the imperial general, Wu Gong, once spent the night in the Empress Dowager's palace—the Great Emperor of Zhongzhou raged, yet could do nothing."

"This is postnatal art."

"Parents and family grant the first portion of heavenly fortune; all subsequent fortune is made by oneself."

"Innate fortune comes from heaven; postnatal art is human."

The Tai Jia says: "Heaven's calamity may still be avoided; one's own misdeeds cannot be escaped."

It says: "Ever align with destiny; seek your own fortune."

Both refer to the difference between innate fate and postnatal action.

According to the old monk, young layman, you have reclaimed your early qi fortune, but it holds no meaning now—it shaped your initial life circumstances; with your parents' power, had there been no setbacks, those ten years would have brought you boundless wealth.

But those ten years are already gone; you've suffered, your character has been tempered… those years cannot be reclaimed; this returned qi fortune can only be refined into one Wu Gong.

A delicious meal from ten years ago, if retrieved now, is already spoiled.

Most heroes in the world are merely fools; you, young layman, are quite exceptional.

Li Guanyi said: "Fools? Why?"

The old monk chuckled: "Most people half-believe, half-doubt fate, and thus are bound by yin-yang and cosmic numbers—this is what is called fate pattern, what is called everyone has a destined number; yet the supremely virtuous cannot be bound by fate, nor can the supremely wicked."

"It's as if a supreme cosmic calculator has computed your destiny."

The old monk took off his shoe and struck the lad's face three times—bang, bang, bang—with the sole.

He beat him until his nose was swollen and bruised, blood spurting everywhere.

Could he calculate it?

"I pick up a knife, place it on the table, and ask him: will I stab it into his belly or won't I? Just look—what can this divine calculator predict?"

Li Guanyi stared, speechless.

The living Buddha smiled warmly: "This is the difference between innate fate and postnatal fortune."

The old monk said: "How many heroes, nobles, fail to see through so-called fate patterns? Take the man you met today—these past ten years, he has been bound and fixed by a single decree of fate from his father, not shifting an inch—what else is he but an ordinary mortal?"

The living Buddha of the Western Regions—the old man who laughed and cursed with Zu Wenyuan.

One sentence alone revealed Chen Yuyun's entire life.

Bound and sealed for life by a single decree of fate.

Li Guanyi suddenly felt this old monk was different; he said:

"If these are innate fates, can one escape destiny?"

The old monk thought for a moment, sat there, rain pouring overhead, he covered the cat with his sleeve, reached out, and gently scratched under its chin; the cat pressed its head against his palm, purring softly. The Third Master of Tianxia Sect, this kind-eyed old monk smiled and said:

"Fate lies with me."

"Fortune is sought by oneself."

These six words were disarmingly plain, yet utterly dominant.

The living Buddha said: "Young layman, do you know why so many nobles believe in my sect?"

"Because I tell them: seek wealth and gain wealth, seek lovers and gain lovers, seek longevity and gain longevity."

Li Guanyi said: "They're probably stuck at the first level."

The old monk said: "Indeed, but the true teaching has been revealed to them—they simply do not seek. Fortune must be sought by oneself; what you seek, you receive. Old monk was worried you were trapped in some hardship, but now I see I needn't have worried at all."

The living Buddha of the Western Regions thought for a moment, placed the cat in his arms, then said: "Let's do it again." He lightly tapped the boy's shoulder, and immediately Li Guanyi's azure qi fortune surged; then he grabbed the back of Li Guanyi's robe.

The old monk yanked the boy out and shouted:

"Come out!"

His voice was like spring thunder.

He set Li Guanyi down beside him.

Li Guanyi turned his head and watched the azure qi fortune swirl.

In a daze, he understood the old monk's meaning.

Step out of your past fate pattern.

If it serves me, it's right; if it harms me, to hell with it.

Don't let this so-called fate pattern bind you.

Li Guanyi suddenly felt the old monk's cry of "Come out!" was profoundly brilliant; he felt a sudden ease, and the chaotic emotions that had surfaced after reclaiming his qi fortune vanished. The old monk patted his shoulder and said:

"That day, you slashed through the rope—but can you cut through the tangled web of worldly attachments?"

"That day, did you truly sever this 【rope】?"

The living Buddha's eyes were calm and gentle.

Li Guanyi remained silent for a long while, then bowed and said: "Thank you, Elder."

The old monk shook his head with a smile, stepped forward half a pace, rain falling around him, raised a finger toward the sky: "Destiny? Merely the empty words of pedantic scholars and charlatans. The fate of all beings lies in change—in beings themselves!"

"Even flesh and blood have their numbers."

"How much more so the body of righteousness—can it not transform heaven?!"

"Look."

The old man pointed to the sky, and the rain clouds parted; Li Guanyi saw the clear, bright moonlight above—never before had the boy seen such pure moonlight, serene and luminous. He stood there, turned back, and saw the old monk walking away; behind him, one, two, three little cats lifted their paws.

One step, two steps.

One sway, two sways.

The old monk bent over, his sleeves swaying, and small steamed buns fell—one, two; his face smiled, the cats softly mewed, the moon above, the monk below, the cats behind, the road ahead—all natural, not a single discordant note.

Third Master of Tianxia Sect.

Li Guanyi lowered his gaze, looked at the qi fortune, and suddenly smiled with a Mu Zi Yi expression.

Indeed, this thing could be refined into a Wu Gong.

Without qi fortune, I've come this far; Chen Yuyun, with his qi fortune, will still fall before my sword.

The strong always hold fortune; qi fortune is like the Son of Heaven—not destined, but claimed by the powerful.

He raised a finger toward the moon in the sky.

"To hell with fate."

He laughed loudly and decided to cultivate this into Wu Gong, strode out, had a conversation with the old monk, realized the time was late, and hurried toward the Xue family, his body soaked with rain, when he suddenly paused in surprise.

The rain clouds above still lingered, rain falling in a soft patter.

A black road, moonlight spilled like Bai Yu, a narrow and cramped alley.

Rain dripped, drip-drip.

Under the moonlight, a silver-haired girl held an umbrella, standing there, quietly waiting for him.