Chapter Six: True Sincerity

As for Li Qi’s sudden awakening, Li Changqing found nothing unusual about it.

Such occurrences have been common throughout history. Many renowned figures spent their youth in idleness and indulgence, neglecting serious pursuits, only to suddenly awaken one day, turning their lives upside down, even rising to noble titles and high office.

Of course, this prevalence is viewed from the broad sweep of history. In any given place and time, such transformations are far rarer.

Though Li Changqing harbored private thoughts, his expression remained unchanged. After suppressing a smile, he turned his back and gazed silently at the ancestral tablets, patiently awaiting the appointed moment.

The ancestral rites followed strict customs, especially clan ceremonies, where timing was of utmost importance, requiring the selection of an auspicious hour.

About ten minutes later, the two vermilion doors of the grand hall slowly closed, leaving only a narrow gap about twenty centimeters wide.

Darkness fell over the ancestral hall, pierced only by eight beams of light streaming through deliberately kept wall openings, illuminating eight oil paintings mounted on the walls.

These eight somber-hued paintings stood at the eight cardinal points, corresponding to the eight trigrams.

The hall itself was not a simple square but an octagonal structure, said to gather spiritual energy and nurture qi, bestowing blessings upon the descendants.

The subjects of the paintings were neither deities nor saints. The first three depicted the ancient history of the Yan and Huang emperors: the opening of heaven and earth by the Yu sovereign, the Qin emperor’s unification of the six realms, and the sage king’s pacification of the world.

The remaining five illustrated the stories of the Li clan’s ancestors.

The first among these was the venerable figure riding an ox…

Two Blue Stars—past life and present, two worlds reflecting each other. History diverges and overlaps, with many similar figures appearing in both realms. It is profoundly real, for the Yan and Huang people traditionally venerate named ancestors.

Truth or falsehood matters little: if I succeed, scholars will interpret the classics for me, turning falsehood into truth; conversely, truth may be deemed falsehood. The distinction is irrelevant.

Li Qi had seen these paintings every year since childhood, but never before had they stirred him so profoundly.

As light and shadow intertwined, his once keener spirit now sensed an unusual resonance within the paintings.

Yet it was only a vague feeling, not a concrete revelation.

“The Yu sovereign opening the heavens… I recall before my sudden death in my past life, I once read online that in a distant era there was a Yu dynasty, its existence uncertain, but deemed the earliest human civilization…”

“In this world, however, the Yu dynasty’s existence is consensus, acknowledged as the cradle of Eastern civilization. The histories of these two worlds diverged long ago, yet many parallel figures still emerge. Perhaps this is the reflection and interference of parallel dimensions…”

In the solemn atmosphere, Li Qi contemplated the paintings, these thoughts arising in his mind.

“Moreover, truly, matters of state hinge on ritual and martial affairs. I never fully understood this in my past life, but now I see: rituals honor the human heart, gathering roots—the roots to which fallen leaves return.”

In this mood, Li Qi’s heart suddenly calmed. Though thoughts remained, they no longer scattered. He felt his spirit gradually clarifying.

At the same time, memories of previously encountered teachings surfaced.

“No wonder it is said that during rituals, people are most fearless—undaunted even by thunder striking nearby—because at that moment, the heart is near perfect sincerity.”

“And when one proclaims, ‘Ancestors above, unworthy descendants below…’ it is also a moment of great intensity, for the heart approaches true sincerity. This is the power of the heart…”

These were Li Qi’s final thoughts before the solemn bell tolled outside the hall, its ancient chime sweeping away all wandering thoughts, leaving only stillness.

Simultaneously, Li Changqing’s sonorous voice rose, almost chanting: “Honored ancestors above, descendants below…”

When the vermilion doors reopened, many stepped out dazed. The Western world favors gathering faith in gods, but in the Eastern world, ancestor worship is the oldest belief.

Of course, nowadays, East and West alike, many have lost faith. In some ways, this is beneficial, yet not entirely so, for not all possess true wisdom. Without wisdom or faith, the spirit easily falls into hollow nihilism.

Li Qi followed the crowd out of the ancestral hall. Below the great hall, the central square erupted in the clamor of drums and gongs, the piercing shrill of suona horns. Two massive lion puppets, accompanied by the crackling of firecrackers, began performing intricate, high-difficulty dances.

The scent of gunpowder stirred in Li Qi a new understanding. The same event, viewed from different heights and angles, reveals entirely different sights and feelings.

Previously, he found it all dull and a waste of time.

Now, he felt a living continuity of bloodline and heritage.

Indeed, people die and vanish, but something endures. Even if descendants forget your name, traces remain.

The group left the hall but did not disperse. The ancestral rites were only halfway complete; after venerating the ancestral tablets, they still had to tend the tombs. Thus, they turned toward the mountains.

The Li family village lay at the foot of Mount Qi.

Decades ago, the Li ancestors’ tombs were within the village, but later, when Li Changqing built the ancestral hall, he consulted a geomancer who identified a feng shui treasure site in the mountains for burial.

Though somewhat troublesome, Li Changqing’s word was law; no one dared oppose.

Over those decades, the clan’s fortunes changed. Most notably, no infants born in recent years suffered from mental deficiencies.

Some attributed this to scientific progress, others to feng shui and ancestral protection.

The ancestral tomb lay about five kilometers up a mountain path on a broad plateau halfway up the mountain. The distance was not far, and the well-maintained road made travel easy.

By now, the sun had fully dispersed the mist, revealing a clear sky. Walking the stone steps hewn into the mountainside, a fresh breeze carrying the scent of grass and earth brushed Li Qi’s face, invigorating him and lightening his step.

Halfway up, he glanced back to see the fertile fields below stretching endlessly green—young wheat just sprouted. Though winter still held sway, the wheat had already broken ground.

These fields belonged to the Li clan. Over forty years ago, they totaled three thousand acres. Through reclamation and purchase, the area had grown to ten thousand acres.

Ten thousand acres was a vast expanse on Blue Star in his past life, but here it was modest.

Moreover, the land’s yield was not valuable. Planted twice yearly, each acre netted about three hundred yuan. Ten thousand acres brought only about three million yuan annually—not even as much as some popular divisions of the Li Group made in a single month.

Yet these fields gave the clan’s elderly and weak, those without support or family heads, a chance to survive.

All income from these clan fields was dedicated to caring for the old and infirm—a rule set by Li Changqing.

“The world’s diversity nourishes all things… Heaven’s Way, Man’s Way, the warrior, the immortal…”

Li Qi’s thoughts suddenly stirred, though they were merely fleeting and brought no new insights. At that moment, his interface panel flickered slightly.

Log: You have witnessed a scene that moved you. Insight +3.3