Chapter Thirty: Steadfast on the Road Ahead

In Li Zisheng’s own eyes, this Heavenly Secrets Institute was exceedingly strange. Its organization was shrouded in mystery, its true nature unknowable. Could it truly be as those ancient dramas of gods and spirits described, an assembly of immortals who had attained the Dao? Otherwise, how could they be aware of his existence, or know that he had come to the rear of this encampment? Disbelief welled up in Li Zisheng’s heart; as a devout believer in science and atheism, such absurd notions barely flickered across his mind before vanishing completely.

“Student pays respects to his honored master. I have no lineage in the art of medicine, so there is nothing to hinder me from taking you as my teacher. However, in literary pursuits I have already apprenticed myself to Master Cheng Zhongliang. Yet Master Cheng was wronged by villains, and it was to uncover the truth behind his demise that I came here to Lingzhou.”

Li Zisheng was well aware of his current situation. Everyone he had come to know treated him as little more than a pawn, using him to their advantage. He was like duckweed adrift upon the sea, rootless and in peril. If he wished to escape this dangerous predicament, he would need not only cunning and strategy but also a strong backing—this was the crux of the matter.

If he could free himself from the fate of being a pawn upon this chessboard, he would have to steadily increase his own power.

Li Zisheng had, in fact, concealed his greatest advantage: he could perceive the fortune of others. This alone had already wrought profound changes in his life.

Back when he had first come to the great stone by the lakeside to practice his calligraphy, he had already noticed this old man. The moment he saw him, Li Zisheng felt his body suddenly grow lighter, and above the old man’s head appeared the intertwining aura of phoenix and luan, surpassing by far any fortune he had seen before.

Thus, Li Zisheng knew that what Wei Cizang, the Medicine King, could bring him would far exceed his expectations.

Especially when he heard that Wei Cizang wished to take him as a disciple, Li Zisheng felt a weight lift from his shoulders, the air around him inexplicably freshening—such a miraculous effect was simply beyond belief.

According to his own conjectures, this was likely due to the diminishing of the ill-fated aura that had oppressed him, and this change itself must have been triggered by his formally becoming Wei Cizang’s disciple.

He had anticipated as much: escaping danger early would allow him a clearer view of the road ahead. He had to keep moving forward—only thus could he hope to survive in peace.

He once naively believed that if he failed in the outside world, he could always return home and rely on his parents. Now he realized how childish that thought had been. With a chronic illness that even the Medicine King found incurable, his departure from home in search of a cure was all but inevitable.

Yet, as the saying goes, the cart will find its way round the hill when it gets there. Though he had only just learned of his illness, at least he had become the Medicine King’s disciple. This was far better than waiting helplessly for death—at least now he had hope, a reason to go on living.

“I understand your situation,” Wei Cizang replied. “Before coming to Lingzhou, I received a letter from the Heavenly Secrets Institute detailing your case. Your skill in the art of healing, I do not know, but their letter confirmed that you have no medical lineage. Without this, even if you had been appointed my disciple by the Institute, I would not have accepted you. As for your literary mentor, I am aware of him—Cheng Zhongliang was a man of some repute. A pity, truly a pity.”

Li Zisheng remained silent, saying nothing more. The matter of his mentor weighed heavily upon his heart; Cheng Zhongliang’s kindness to him was as great as a mountain, and he was determined to avenge his murder.

“Master, may I ask what method you spoke of to suppress the Nine Yin Severed Veins? That it is so effective is astonishing. And why do you sigh so often?”

Li Zisheng knew that to formally become a disciple in medicine, one had to undergo the ritual of three kneelings and nine prostrations. Yet since Wei Cizang had already accepted him, a single-lineage transmission was a time-honored tradition, and nothing out of the ordinary.

He thus considered himself now one of Wei Cizang’s closest people, and asking such questions would not offend him.

Sure enough, Wei Cizang merely smiled gently, without the slightest hint of displeasure; his eyes were full of affection, his manner utterly transformed. Li Zisheng had treated him as a confidant, or he would never have asked as much.

Li Zisheng understood this point clearly, which was precisely why he spoke as he did—it suited Wei Cizang’s hopes.

“Zisheng, you do not know what happened in years past. My junior and I once brought disaster upon an entire city. Even now, at night, those souls haunt my dreams, never leaving me. But let the past be past—there is no sense in dwelling on it and increasing my sorrow. As for suppressing the Nine Yin Severed Veins: it is a matter of cultivating your character, reading widely, and, upon achieving first place in the imperial examinations, receiving a luminous pearl from the Eastern Sea as a reward from His Majesty. This pearl, said to be produced by a thousand-year-old clam, is a rare treasure. Only it can directly suppress your ailment, extending your life until you can seek out the God of Medicine.” Wei Cizang spoke of this as if it were a simple thing.

But Li Zisheng’s heart tightened at his words. To become the top scholar in the Tang Empire was an extraordinarily difficult feat—especially given his current, precarious status, rootless and adrift, with dangers on every side and countless foes wishing him dead.

And yet, he had no choice. If he did not win the top honors, his life would be forfeit. He had to obtain that Eastern Sea Pearl, whatever the cost. With that thought, his gaze became resolute.

“Master, the road of medicine is long, and the road of letters longer still. Though I possess some talent, I am far from the requirements for highest honors. I beg your pardon for being unable to devote myself wholly to the study of medicine under your guidance.”

With both hands joined respectfully, Li Zisheng bowed deeply.