novelraw Chapter 984: The Expert
Chapter 984: The Expert
Song Da and Song San were idly flipping through the books on the bookshelf in the house hidden within the bamboo forest.
These were not martial arts manuals but instead works like The Analects and The Book of Changes—completely contrary to their initial expectations.
"Hey, Da, do you think Mr. Blind just brought us here for company?" Song San asked, looking at Song Da.
Song Da shook his head blankly.
At first, Mr. Blind had said: "Would you two be interested in accompanying me to Wudang Mountain?"
Upon hearing the name of such a sacred place, the two immediately agreed without hesitation. However, they were disappointed to find that the trip only involved meeting a white-haired disciple.
"I feel like we've been duped by Mr. Blind..." Song Da frowned and muttered after a long silence.
"Duped! He just wanted someone to carry his luggage!" Song San slapped his forehead.
Both showed frustrated expressions.
"Let's go for a walk outside," Song Da sighed. "At least treat it as sightseeing."Song San had no better idea. Anyway, since landing in Xiangjiang, they had set up new phones for use in China, so Mr. Blind could find them if needed.
...
"Master, who are those two you brought along?"
Inside a quiet room, Master Huang Qifa stood respectfully by Mr. Blind’s side. Mr. Blind, however, was silently "gazing" at a yellowed ink painting hanging in the room.
The painting depicted an ancient figure with an otherworldly demeanor, gazing at the starry expanse.
"Just two luggage carriers. Don’t concern yourself with them," Mr. Blind replied calmly, turning around. He then sat cross-legged on a cushion in the room and waved his hand.
Huang Qifa, understanding his cue, sat across from Mr. Blind. He had only met this revered master four times in his lifetime, with each meeting brief and spanning decades.
From a young apprentice to his current elderly self, Huang had aged, but the master remained unchanged.
To outsiders who sought his fortune-telling, Huang was hailed as "Master Huang" or "Immortal Huang." However, in Huang’s eyes, the true immortal was Mr. Blind.
"Stretch out your hand," Mr. Blind suddenly said. "Let me feel your bones first."
Huang eagerly rolled up his sleeve and extended his hand. He had self-taught bone-reading, but his methods were rudimentary and often unreliable.
"Now recount the events surrounding that person you mentioned and describe their features in detail," Mr. Blind continued.
Huang’s decades of hard-earned fortune-telling skills had been overturned by that encounter. Still vividly remembering, he began:
"That day, I was referred to a client. Initially, it was just a routine request to read someone's marriage prospects. But the young man’s destiny and facial features were incredibly peculiar—something I had never seen before."
Huang sighed. "Overestimating my abilities and driven by curiosity, I broke sect rules and used the secret technique you taught to open my ‘vision.’ Unexpectedly, I suffered immediate backlash. Since then, my skills have been broken for almost half a year now."
"When did you meet this person?" Mr. Blind asked.
Huang provided the exact date and even the client's birth details.
Mr. Blind began calculating on his fingers, his movements becoming increasingly rapid until his hands seemed to blur. Huang, watching in awe, felt a growing sense of dread.
Finger-calculating was far more complex than laymen imagined, involving intricate formulas beyond ordinary mental or memory capacities.
Suddenly, Mr. Blind’s fingers stopped. Huang, expecting an answer, found him silent instead. Sneaking a glance, Huang noticed Mr. Blind’s hand twitching slightly.
Could he have strained his fingers from the calculations?
"Pour me some water," Mr. Blind said, rubbing his temple. "My old arthritis is acting up; I need to rest."
So it was arthritis, Huang thought, relieved. After all, even immortals age.
"Right away!" Huang hurried out to boil water.
Alone, Mr. Blind held his trembling hand, murmuring, "It’s not just an ordinary 'All-Living Aspect'..." He then faced the ink painting again.
"Founding Master, your teachings mentioned, 'When heaven and earth change, unusual people and phenomena will first appear.' The Song descendant I encountered in South America—was he extraordinary? And this person Huang met, could they also be extraordinary? Even I can’t calculate it..."
...
When Huang returned with hot water, Mr. Blind was meditating. Before him lay a piece of paper, familiar to Huang.
It was the reason this master had returned from abroad.
"February 2nd, Dragon Head Raising Day."
It seemed like a simple traditional saying. But what secrets did it hold?
"Mix the powder from this bottle into the hot water and drink it," Mr. Blind instructed, handing over a small porcelain vial.
"For me?" Huang asked, startled.
"Of course." Mr. Blind nodded. "Outside the bamboo forest, I saw your forehead darkened, with a death aura rising from your canopy. You’re already showing signs of impending death."
"A fatal calamity?" Huang, being a fortune-teller himself, broke into a cold sweat.
"Not merely a calamity," Mr. Blind said. "Your destiny shows no remedy. But this medicine may help you last the year."
Trembling, Huang knelt, pleading, "Master, save me!"
Mr. Blind sighed. "We divine for others but not ourselves. Do you know why?"
"Because seeking personal gain by defying heaven invites divine punishment," Huang replied bitterly.
"You’ve disrupted fate for many over the years. Though minor, the cumulative sins are great. Now, not only has your skill failed, but your body is withering. Even gods cannot save you."
"Master, I’ve repented! I’ve donated all my wealth!" Huang cried.
"Take this medicine monthly and stay here to recover," Mr. Blind advised before leaving.
As his figure disappeared, Huang slumped to the ground, lost in despair.
The older one grows, the more they fear death.
...
Beyond the bamboo grove, there was a forest, and beyond that, a famous Wudang scenic spot. The bamboo grove itself was within Wudang’s scenic area.
The bamboo grove was arranged with a special formation, making it easy for ordinary people to get lost and find themselves back outside after wandering for a while. Of course, this wouldn’t be an issue if someone used a drone to survey the area—but who would bother to drone over such a small grove for no reason?
At the moment, Song Da and Song San had found an electric pole and squatted under it—not for any specific reason other than it being the best spot for a decent signal.
The situation unfolded as follows: Song San, out of boredom, opened a domestic video platform on his phone and stumbled upon a video about Wudang Mountain. He couldn’t resist clicking it.
“The Top Practitioner of Lightness Kung Fu”
The video’s title naturally piqued Song San’s curiosity. As a martial artist, he understood the nature of lightness kung fu. While the acrobatic stunts in dramas, like stepping on one's own foot to leap skyward, were obviously CGI for kids, real lightness kung fu could genuinely achieve feats like scaling walls.
“Damn it, I’ve been duped!” Song San shouted angrily. “What nonsense about being the top in lightness kung fu—this is just plain parkour!”
Song Da, who had been texting an overseas female acquaintance, rolled his eyes. “You think martial arts masters grow on trees? Besides, the state strictly prohibits advanced martial arts. If it were real lightness kung fu, do you think it would be allowed to circulate online?”
As Song Da was speaking, he noticed Song San suddenly freeze, staring at the sky with a dumbfounded expression. “Da, I think we’ve just found one of those masters growing on trees…”
Song Da looked up in shock. In the sky above, a figure was descending unsteadily toward a nearby grove—carrying another person on their back!
“Could this be the legendary qi-flight technique? Wow, Wudang truly lives up to its reputation as a sacred place!” Song San’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
Song Da, no longer interested in his SMS, quickly pocketed his phone. Exchanging a glance with Song San, they hurried toward the grove where the figures had landed.
When masters meet masters, they’re bound to spar, right?
…
Meanwhile, high above the grove, sudden cries of alarm echoed through the air.
“Ahhhhhh—!!! Careful!!!”
“Whoa—!!!!”
The cries came from two distinct voices.
The figures fell into the treetops, breaking branches as they went. One was finally caught by a branch, halting the fall briefly before it snapped, sending them crashing down.
Thud!
As they hit the ground, one figure quickly flipped and landed agilely, while the other slammed heavily into the dirt.
“Chasing Wind, you bastard! You just watched me fall!” yelled the figure sprawled in the dirt.
“That’s not fair… It was instinct, pure instinct, haha!” replied a grinning young man as he walked over to help the fallen one to their feet, brushing the dirt off them.
These two were Mo Xiaofei and Chasing Wind.
As for why this human and demon duo had appeared here, the story began before winter break.
After the True Dragon of Shenzhou handed his first disciple, Mo Xiaofei, over to Sun Xiaosheng, he left with the butterfly demon Luo Pianxian. Before leaving, the True Dragon had mentioned something about Bu Yi Dao, which might reveal Mo Xiaofei’s past life.
This sparked Mo Xiaofei’s idea to use the winter break to quietly visit Mount Tai. Chasing Wind, however, had his own reasons for tagging along.
As a student, financing the trip was tough (Mo Xiaofei, who aspired to be a hero, steadfastly refused to use his powers to make money). So, he decided on a budget-friendly approach: traveling on foot.
Planes? I can fly.
Trains? I can fly.
Buses? Still flying.
Mo Xiaofei planned to fly all the way to Mount Tai, serving as Chasing Wind’s personal “mount.” It had already been a week since they set out, and they’d successfully left their home province to arrive here.
“Water… get me some water,” Mo Xiaofei said weakly, sitting down and casting a glance at Chasing Wind.
Flying alone was manageable, but carrying Chasing Wind made it exhausting, especially since they’d been traveling all day. That said, Mo Xiaofei noticed his daily flight endurance had improved significantly—perhaps it was great training.
“Where are we now?” Mo Xiaofei asked, looking at Chasing Wind.
Chasing Wind quickly pulled out a map—he was in charge of navigation.
Just then, a rustling sound came from the grove. Two figures burst out: one tall and muscular, the other thin and wiry.
The burly man spoke loudly, “Song Qingshu, a former disciple of Shaolin, challenges the two young masters to a duel!”
The wiry man followed, “Song Qingshu Two, also a former Shaolin disciple, challenges the two young masters to a duel!”
What the…?
Mo Xiaofei and Chasing Wind blinked, utterly baffled.
(End of Chapter)