Chapter Eight: One Life, Two Fortunes

“That is the Heaven, Earth, and Human Rankings!”

“Do you even realize what you’re saying?!”

“Have you seen what kind of monsters are capable of fighting across realms in adversity?!”

“Look at me—do I look like some fierce warrior who can strike across boundaries?!”

“Why don’t you tell me to go eliminate Tang Sanzang and his disciples instead…”

At the same time, after hearing Li Qi’s earlier words, Li Zheng’s emotions unexpectedly flared up several times.

“If you think you’re capable, then step up!”

In the end, Li Zheng added, “If I step up, then I step up. I didn’t expect you, Brother Zheng, to have such insight, recognizing my potential as the Great Sage.”

Li Qi responded with a smile.

Li Zheng, not taking it seriously, merely smiled back, calming himself. The corner of his eye twitched slightly as he said, “Then in a few days, we’ll see your performance…”

As for the Heaven, Earth, and Human Rankings, this tradition has existed for a long time.

Once, during an era called the Martial Dynasty, the Martial Emperor established these rankings to incite fierce battles among the world’s strong, eliminating unstable factors and stabilizing his rule.

Now, over a thousand years after the fall of the Martial Dynasty, martial cultivation has grown even more brilliant, and the number of powerful figures has multiplied, turning the Martial Dynasty into mere dust.

Yet the Heaven, Earth, and Human Rankings have persisted.

It can only be said that no one can escape ambition and fame; even knowing this is a transparent ploy, people still compete for position and prestige.

Among them, the Heaven Ranking selects the Saints, the Earth Ranking the True Men, and the Human Ranking the Wayfarers.

However, there are exceptions.

Over long periods, some monsters have been able to transcend realms: crossing from the boundary realm into the Way Realm, or from the Way Realm into the True Realm. But no one has ever crossed from the True Realm into the Saint Realm.

The Saint Realm is an entirely different dimension from the earlier realms.

…

Elsewhere, the patriarch Li had already reached the ancestral tomb halfway up the mountain. Standing by the railing at the platform’s edge, he gazed out, faintly seeing smoke rising from the village below.

In truth, nowadays, every household had abandoned the wood-fired stoves, but since the ancestral rites had just concluded and everyone was returning home for a communal noon meal, banquet tables had been set up in the ancestral hall’s square, which explained the smoke.

The old man blew on the mountain breeze, watching the steady stream of Li family descendants ascending, lost in his thoughts.

Behind him, several middle-aged men whispered among themselves, remarking on how the younger generation within the clan had grown more vigorous in recent years.

They all praised the patriarch’s excellent governance, attributing the family’s blessings to his wise leadership.

Finally, the old man spoke: “Quiet down. I am old, yes, but not blind. I can still see clearly how my descendants truly are.”

“What vigor? It only seems that way because of advances in technology and better supplements. They’re nourished from the outside, not forged through sheer will and countless hardships.”

…

“That’s all show, just a facade—skin without bone!”

At these words, the middle-aged men immediately fell silent, daring not to argue.

The Li family had not been without rebels; managing a family is like managing a country. Li Changqing’s authority was not merely due to age.

Many of those rebels now languished in prison.

Of course, this rebellion didn’t mean defying Li Changqing’s will, but rather enriching themselves at the expense of the public.

They say even a fierce tiger won’t eat its own cubs, but Li Changqing truly sent his own son to prison. When his son proved unworthy, he nurtured his grandson; when the grandson failed, he trained his great-grandson. Now, Li Tianxing is the heir to the family empire.

After a moment’s silence, Li Changqing continued, “But Heaven’s mandate is unpredictable. Who can truly know fate and fortune?

“There are those who are invincible in youth, advancing a realm every three years, yet die young.”

“There are others who take a decade to ascend a level, single-minded and patient, ultimately becoming Saints…”

“One’s life, one’s destiny, and one’s feng shui…”

“Who can explain these things clearly?”

“If anyone could truly control their fate, they would no longer be human. Not even a Saint could do it—they would be a demon god!”

…

“One’s life, one’s fortune, and one’s feng shui…”

“This feng shui, indeed, holds some truth…”

Arriving at the platform, Li Qi looked over the orderly rows of graves and sensed an invisible force, a pulse connecting heaven, earth, mountains, rivers, the living, and the dead.

Ordinarily, at his level of cultivation, he shouldn’t have been able to perceive such things.

Yet his special talent was related to fate—one’s fortune and life aligned perfectly.

However, whether in this life or the past, feng shui had always held sway. If it were a mere hoax, it could never have lasted so long. The deception of a few nobles is possible, but generations upon generations falling for it means there must be some truth within.

Li Qi also recalled some speculative theories from a past life—that local geography and magnetic fields could influence the brain development of human embryos, causing some regions to produce naturally smarter people.

Of course, such ideas lacked solid evidence.

But hearing the rumors about newborns in the clan, Li Qi felt there might be some merit to it.

Following this, the rituals proceeded in an orderly fashion. There was no supernatural phenomenon like ancestral graves emitting blue smoke due to Li Qi’s presence.

Even though feng shui could be mystical, it did not interfere with the material world. There existed an insurmountable barrier between spirit and matter.

Even a Great Sage could not manipulate a single speck of dust with the mind.

The mind is the mind; matter is matter. Humans can only truly control the matter of their own bodies.

Yet after cleaning the ancestral tombs, Li Qi suddenly realized his destiny chart had advanced by 1%, reaching 98%.

…

This showed that indeed, a subtle, profound link existed between heaven, earth, and human fate.

Li Qi felt he might be blessed by his ancestors.

But he understood well that this was not the presence of ancestral spirits or will, but rather a natural harmony and environmental blessing.

…

Later, descending the mountain without incident, the grand procession returned home.

Then came the meal.

The clan feast was lavish. Li Qi ate quickly but only chose what he liked, disregarding nutritional balance.

Compared to prescribed diets, he trusted his body’s instincts.

Everyone’s body is different, but one truth is universal: when someone lacks a certain nutrient, they deeply crave a particular food.

This is the most primal principle of health cultivation.

Of course, craving everything is just gluttony.

Though Li Qi ate swiftly, he chewed thoroughly, a small detail in nurturing longevity. Often, vitality grows in such subtle actions—not noticeable in days, but evident over time.

After the feast, Li Qi returned home and took a short nap.

Then he spent a leisurely afternoon surfing the internet, reading various articles and posts about cultivation. Occasionally, he searched for detailed information on topics of interest to enrich his knowledge.

When tired of reading, he closed his eyes to rest, emptying his mind until dusk.

After dinner, Li Qi went out for a half-hour walk along the riverbank before returning home and entering the meditation chamber.

This room was specially built for his practice, about thirty-six square meters—six by six meters—with thick walls for soundproofing. The floor was plain cement, but one wall was covered by a full-length mirror—the most expensive item in the room.

A six-meter by three-meter mirror was no small investment.

Li Qi changed into thick, loose clothing, opened the door, and turned on the light inside the chamber.

The light revealed two crooked lines of characters inscribed on the door:

“Li reaches the heavens, enlightenment reveals civilization.”

“Li” and “Qi” corresponded to his own name.

He had written these words in a fit of youthful pride at age seven, having seen them somewhere and found them grand, then inscribed them on the door with correction fluid.

Li Qi smiled upon reading the words, then closed the door, and the world became quieter by several degrees.

He looked into the giant mirror, where a lean, delicate youth was reflected—tall and slender, not especially handsome, but very agreeable to the eye.

Step by step, he approached the mirror, finally sitting before it and laying the wooden sword flat on his lap.

Eyes open, he adjusted his breathing, imprinting his own image steadily and meticulously into the depths of his heart’s lake.