Chapter 388: All Determined by Fate

“Come in!” Chen Changgeng shouted while instinctively launching an attack.

He stepped in the Eight Trigrams formation and thrust both palms outward. Vigorous winds surged in all directions, shifting endlessly, with palm shadows filling the air like a heaven-spanning net.

At this moment, he saw the “Primordial Heavenly Venerable” on the opposite side calmly waving his right hand. The aura of the figure was vast and boundless, as if it had existed since ancient times, coexisting with time itself.

His long, slender fingers were as white and smooth as jade. His moves were simple yet seemed to align with some immutable law of the universe, cutting precisely into Chen Changgeng’s palm force from a mysterious angle.

The air currents were disrupted, converging toward that single hand. The net-like palm shadows retracted accordingly, returning to two ordinary hands.

Bang! The “Primordial Heavenly Venerable’s” right hand brushed against Chen Changgeng’s palms. Instantly, both of Chen’s hands went numb. Inexplicably, instead of retreating, his body involuntarily advanced forward, taking several steps until he bumped into a chair and sat down. Across the small table, he locked eyes with the “Primordial Heavenly Venerable.”

“Mr. Chen, can we now speak calmly?” asked Meng Qi in a voice that seemed both solemn and aged.

Chen Changgeng’s forehead was covered in cold sweat. He glanced at the “Primordial Heavenly Venerable’s” hands—powerful yet not showing prominent knuckles—then turned to his personal guards, who hadn’t even had time to fight, and ordered, “Go outside and guard the door. Don’t let anyone else in.”

By “others,” he meant the martial experts from his household who had rushed over upon hearing his call.

After issuing his instructions, he forced a smile and said, “I wonder what business you have with me?”

“More than three years ago, did you send your servants to bury a corpse at the mass grave?” Meng Qi asked directly.

Here we go… Chen Changgeng’s expression changed, a sinking feeling in his heart. Then he smiled bitterly: “Yes. I’ve been anxious about that matter for a long time. Today, I finally feel relieved.”

“Did you kill him?” Meng Qi used the Heaven-Shaking, Earth-Shaking Method to sense Chen’s emotions.

“No!” Chen Changgeng denied it without hesitation. “One late night, I suddenly felt like going to the pleasure district. However, just as I opened the side door, I found a man lying on the ground. I held up a lantern and looked closely—he was already dead, with no breath left.”

“The man’s face was pale, almost bluish. He had probably been dead for about an hour. There were no obvious fresh wounds on his body, nor any signs of a disease outbreak. His shoes and clothes were neatly placed beside him, as if he had come alone to my doorstep, taken off his clothes and shoes, and quietly lain down to await death.”

“This incident was far too bizarre. Fearing that I might be framed and concerned about potential repercussions, I chose not to report it to the Six Gates. Instead, I instructed my servants to burn the clothes and shoes and have the body buried in a mass grave. Since then, I’ve frequently awakened in the dead of night, gripped by terror that calamity might strike me.”

Chen Changgeng seemed both anxious and excited, as though this matter had troubled him for a long time.

“Were there any unusual traces or items at the scene?” Meng Qi judged from Chen’s emotional shifts and the logical consistency of his account that he wasn’t lying. He then asked for clues.

Of course, if Chen turned out to be another “wild acting emperor,” the situation would be different, but his family was rooted here—there was no way he could run.

“No,” Chen Changgeng replied immediately. He had thought about this question many times and didn’t need to recall.

Meng Qi nodded and asked about other details.

His biggest puzzle was: why leave Jin Li’s corpse at Chen Changgeng’s doorstep? Why not just bury it somewhere secluded and unknown, keeping it hidden from gods and men?

“Do you have any enemies, Mr. Chen?” This was the only explanation he could think of for now.

Chen Changgeng had long suspected his enemies. He coughed and said, “Because of disputes over land and water sources, my relations with nearby families and sects have been strained. There’s the Sun family, the Jia family, the Jiangzuo Sword Sect, and the Tieming Taoist Temple. Oh, and the Shen family—I joined forces with other families to seize their dock, so they hate me bitterly. All of this happened before the corpse appeared.”

Meng Qi silently memorized these families and sects, then asked a few more questions before slowly rising: “Mr. Chen, I’ve troubled you enough.”

“May I ask who the deceased was?” Chen Changgeng couldn’t help but ask.

Meng Qi placed his hand on the door and chuckled: “It’s better if you don’t know.”

With those words, he pulled open the door. His figure suddenly blurred—not disappearing, but moving with such exquisite steps that it seemed illusory and demonic, leaving behind an afterimage.

The Chen family’s martial experts, who had rushed to the door, blinked in confusion. Before they could act, their enemy had vanished. Only the two door panels swung gently in the cold wind.

“Phew, what a powerful expert…” Chen Changgeng exhaled.

…

As one of the local power brokers, Lü Jian worked efficiently. The next day, before sunset, he had roughly figured out the love-related incidents in the city around the time Jin Li disappeared.

Of course, these were only the major incidents, or those involving sects and families. Otherwise, how could anyone gather so much information about ordinary households’ marriages and love affairs after more than three years, unless they specifically inquired about a particular family? And such families didn’t seem likely to have any connection with Jin Li.

After setting off a few fireworks at the gate, he returned to his study and patiently waited.

With the New Year approaching, fireworks frequently lit the sky. His earlier actions wouldn’t attract suspicion.

Bang! A strong gust blew the window open, letting in a chill. Lü Jian quickly turned toward the window, suspecting the green-robed young master had arrived. But his gaze found nothing—only scattered plum blossoms.

Could the servants have forgotten to close it? He shook his head, shut the window, and just turned around when his body froze.

The green-robed young master stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the books on the shelf. His demeanor was refined, his posture graceful and unrestrained.

When did he get in?! Lü Jian’s face changed slightly. He was shocked, acutely aware of the gap between himself and true martial experts.

“What did you find out?” Meng Qi didn’t turn around, as if casually chatting.

Lü Jian composed himself and respectfully replied, “A few days after Jin Li disappeared, the Shen family’s daughter refused to marry into the Jia family, even choosing suicide to avoid it. Though she survived, the engagement was broken. She remains unmarried to this day. Also, Tieming Taoist Temple suddenly gained a new nun—quiet and rarely going out.”

“Shen family… Tieming Taoist Temple…” Meng Qi repeated these two names.

Both were among the enemies Chen Changgeng had mentioned. With decent martial arts skills, one could reach any part of Wenan within an hour.

Lü Jian assumed Meng Qi didn’t know about the Shen family and Tieming Taoist Temple and quickly explained: “The Shen family moved here a hundred years ago and built Shen Garden. Their main businesses include northern goods, the dock, and a mine and medicinal herb garden. Because of dock disputes, they’ve had conflicts with many families and sects in the city. They rarely intervene directly, making them seem mysterious, with many martial experts in their household.”

“Tieming Taoist Temple wasn’t always called that. Decades ago, a wandering Taoist passed through and decided to stay. He transformed the small, weak temple into a relatively prosperous place, halfway between a temple and a martial sect.”

“His strength is unknown. He calls himself Tieming Taoist, changing the temple’s name to Tieming. He often speaks mysteriously about fate being predestined, with no cause and no effect. He claims good deeds don’t accumulate virtue, and without fate, one shouldn’t strive. Yet, his predictions about people’s fates are often eerily accurate, making us both mock and revere him.”

“Sounds a bit strange…” Meng Qi mused. “Are there no other love-related incidents?”

“There are a few, but they’re minor families. They couldn’t possibly threaten Jin Li…” Lü Jian briefly mentioned the other incidents.

“Alright, I’ll verify it myself.” Meng Qi didn’t play mysterious and directly pushed the door to leave. Yet, his green robe fluttered as he walked, and the servants along the way seemed not to notice him, leaving Lü Jian astonished.

…

The Jiangdong region is known for its gentle landscapes. Tieming Taoist Temple sits atop a picturesque hill, with stone steps winding up to the temple gate.

Because of its accurate fortune-telling, many devotees came to burn incense and make offerings, making the temple lively.

Dressed in a green robe, Meng Qi strolled leisurely inside, appearing as if just visiting for fun.

He examined the Taoists welcoming the worshippers, trying to find the female Taoist, but without success—she seemed to be in retreat.

Meng Qi didn’t search directly, as he was cautious of the mysterious Tieming Taoist. Approaching a young Taoist boy, he smiled: “I’d like to see the temple master about my fate. Could you announce me?”

He decided to meet Tieming Taoist first.

“One fortune-telling costs ten thousand taels. The master says this is his destined gain,” the young Taoist, having seen many like Meng Qi, replied bluntly. “You can also offer equivalent items afterward. If you refuse, you don’t have to pay. If you think it’s too expensive, there are other senior disciples. The cheapest one charges only five taels.”

What a big mouthful… Meng Qi thought about the Jiangdong land deed he still had and his curiosity about fate, then smiled: “I’ll go with the master.”

“Follow me, lay devotee.” The young Taoist didn’t say more and led Meng Qi to the back of the temple, entering a small courtyard.

The courtyard was cold, with fallen leaves and bare branches. A blue-robed Taoist with half-black, half-white beard sat on a stone bench, watching the swirling leaves.

“Master, someone wants his fate read,” the young Taoist bowed.

The Taoist turned his head. His face was smooth, without a single wrinkle. Meng Qi couldn’t even tell his depth!

“You want to know your fate?” His voice was aged.

“I’m just curious why fate is predestined and cannot be changed?” Meng Qi lifted his robe and sat on another stone bench without hesitation.

The Taoist turned back, continuing to watch the swirling leaves: “I push you once, and your Qi and body react. Thus, whether you move forward or backward, left or right, the result is already decided. It cannot be changed.”

“This is the theory of cause and effect. But Master, you said there is no cause and no effect?” Meng Qi chuckled.

“Causal theory is a minor path. If all conditions are met, a definite result is inevitable. From that result, you can trace back all conditions, all the way to your birth, even to the beginning of the universe. Thus, everything has already been decided from that moment, evolving according to fixed laws. No matter how hard you struggle, it’s useless. Doing good deeds won’t accumulate virtue or good karma for the next life. Just accept your life, whether bitter or sweet.”

The Taoist scorned the theory of cause and effect.

What a pessimistic view… Meng Qi was slightly stunned but didn’t argue. Instead, he asked, “How many kinds of fate are there?”

“From birth, fate is already decided. There are six kinds, each showing a different color. The worst is black—lives full of sorrow and suffering. Next is blue—ordinary people, commoners who enjoy peace but also face hardships. Then red—wealth and honor, famous figures in the martial world, yet still facing many trials. Yellow follows—emperor’s fate, wielding power and strength, enduring many hardships. The second-best is white—destined to become immortal. Finally, pure white—the fate of Buddhas and Immortals, unseen for countless years. Under each color, there are many distinctions.”

Meng Qi listened with growing amusement: “Master Tieming, please tell me what color my fate is.”

Tieming Taoist turned his head. His eyes were deep and hollow, like those of a blind man.

After a careful look, he said blandly: “Blue fate…”

“No, wait—it’s red! No, no, yellow!”

“White? This… how did it turn into pure white!”

Tieming Taoist’s face changed drastically, as if he had seen a ghost. He hurriedly stepped back but forgot he was sitting on the stone bench and fell flat on the ground.

Meng Qi twitched his lips, relieved it wasn’t seven colors.