Chapter 29: The Master of Heavenly Secrets Gate

The tavern the old Taoist mentioned was not far from the city gate, and its facade was modest. At this hour, it was quiet and devoid of patrons, which made for a peaceful setting. Zhang Chi was not unfamiliar with this tavern; in fact, this was his second visit. This was the very place where he had first encountered the Wine Maiden. The proprietor was still the same Mr. Wu as before, but the person who had invited him was no longer Young Master Pei, but the old Taoist who now sat before him, exuding the air of a charlatan.

Stepping through the door, Zhang Chi could not help but think of the Wine Maiden. Back then, he had left her with the Canghuai Army due to the demands of the campaign, and he wondered how she was faring now. She came from a pitiable background, and if she were to suffer again because of him, Zhang Chi would truly feel uneasy at heart.

Noticing guests entering, Mr. Wu quickly came forward to greet them, but upon seeing the pair—a scholar in plain garb and a penniless Taoist—his enthusiasm instantly waned. As a businessman, he had long practiced the art of treating people according to their apparent worth. Mr. Wu had seen countless faces, and those who lingered in his memory were invariably the generous spenders. Though he had seen Zhang Chi once before, he had long since forgotten him. Had Young Master Pei returned, matters would be quite different.

As expected, these two ordered only a couple of the cheapest dishes and a bottle of inferior wine. Mr. Wu muttered under his breath, “paupers,” and left them to themselves.

Hungry as he was, Zhang Chi cared little for the quality of food and wine. He ate heartily, thinking sardonically to himself: perhaps he truly was the proverbial “Heaven’s Chosen,” for since arriving in this world, he had never had a penny to his name, yet whenever hunger struck, someone always appeared at just the right moment to provide for him. He need never lift a finger to secure food or drink. First it was Daoist Yuan, then Miss Wang, and now, as he found himself famished, an old Taoist had turned up to treat him.

After feasting and drinking his fill, Zhang Chi smiled and said, “I must confess my shame, Master Taoist. You have treated me to food and wine, yet I do not even know your religious name.”

“I am but a destitute wanderer—what need have I for a religious name?” The old Taoist shook his head with a smile.

“Then surely you have a given name?”

The Taoist sighed comically, “Ah, old age brings a faulty memory.” The words sounded familiar to Zhang Chi; hadn’t the hermit Shennong said much the same thing in the valley a few days ago? Could it be that all these elders concealed their true names behind aliases?

Zhang Chi mused that these venerable Taoists were as secretive as underground operatives.

True to form, the old Taoist continued, “But since my fortune-telling is so accurate as to amaze all who hear it, the people have given me the surname ‘Zhan’—‘Diviner.’ Thus, I am known to all as Zhan Taiqi.”

Seeing the Taoist boast so shamelessly, Zhang Chi felt a twinge of self-deprecating amusement. Observing Zhang Chi’s expression, the old man said, “Judging by your look, you doubt me? My fortune-telling is precise, as you yourself should know by now.”

That was true, Zhang Chi thought. In Huainan, the Taoist had foretold that his journey would involve horses and that the way out of peril would be hidden in the words ‘Majestic Emei.’ Sure enough, he had encountered the Emei bandits. Later, the Taoist had said, “In the presence of locust trees, there is danger; by water, there is safety.” And indeed, General Canghuai had plotted against him, but it was only after reaching Qingxi and meeting Cheng Luobing that he was rescued. The old man’s predictions had been uncannily accurate.

As Zhang Chi pondered, the old Taoist spoke again: “Since you doubt me, let me cast a divination for you regarding the reason for Jiankang’s closed gates today.” With that, he pushed aside the dishes and fetched several large copper coins from his sleeve.

“Isn’t divination usually done with turtle shells?” Zhang Chi asked, curious, recalling television dramas.

“It’s not the tool that matters, but the skill of the diviner,” the Taoist replied, managing to boast once more. Then he casually tossed the coins onto the table.

Before Zhang Chi could make out the coins, the old Taoist had already gathered them up. “It is done. I have discerned the reason; let me explain.”

Zhang Chi had not expected the divination to be so quick, and he was genuinely surprised.

“According to the signs, Jiankang is on the verge of chaos and war,” the old Taoist leaned in, lowering his voice. “Jiangdong has enjoyed a century of peace, but now, the order of the world is about to change.”

“Is that so?” The old man’s words startled Zhang Chi. “Do you understand the current state of the realm?”

The Taoist beamed. “Naturally. The current Prince of Kuaiji schemes to summon the provincial governors to the capital under the pretext of reporting for duty, intending to strip them of their military power. But, alas, this plot has reached their ears. Now, Wang Gong, the Inspector of Qinggun, and Yin Zhongkan, the Inspector of Jingzhou, have raised their banners. The realm is in turmoil. The reason the Five Barbarians of the north have not crossed the river is only due to fear of the Northern Army and the strong forces of Jing and Yang along the river. Now, with these two strongest armies of Jiangdong plotting against Jiankang, it is inevitable that they will march upon the city. Thus, Jiankang is under strict lockdown; not even a fly could slip through the gates.”

Zhang Chi was astonished that the world’s affairs had descended into such chaos so quickly.

If all this had been divined with a few coins, he would never believe it; the old Taoist clearly had a grasp of the situation and was merely using fortune-telling as a pretext to inform him. Realizing this, Zhang Chi could not help but look upon the man with increased respect.

The old Taoist, pleased with Zhang Chi’s change in demeanor, nevertheless maintained an air of mystery. “But this is only one reason for the lockdown in Jiankang.”

“One reason implies there is another?”

“Of course. And this first reason is not the main one.” As expected, the Taoist continued, “The chief reason is that the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice has grown powerful in Jiangdong and long harbored rebellious intentions. With the two provincial armies rising together, the followers of the Way see a rare opportunity and plan to seize the moment. If the court sends troops to face the two armies, the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice aims to emulate Dong Zhuo of old, to take Jiankang in one fell swoop, seize the emperor, and change the order of the world.”

“Is the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice truly capable of taking Jiankang?” Zhang Chi asked.

“Ordinarily, no,” the Taoist replied with a smile. “But do you recall General Canghuai?”

After the recent bloody battle, how could Zhang Chi forget? “You mean the ‘danger at the locust tree’ you foresaw for me, General Canghuai?”

“Precisely.” The old Taoist lapsed into literary speech, “You are unaware that General Canghuai is himself a member of the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice.”

So that was it. Zhang Chi suddenly understood. General Canghuai commanded tens of thousands—the city’s garrison. Though it was only a portion of the new army, the garrison’s role was crucial. If he turned his coat and attacked, the city might well fall to the cult by surprise.

“What a pity that the fools in the court, terrified by the rebellion of the two provinces, are in utter confusion and have no inkling of the hidden danger posed by the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice. With such men in power, how can the empire stand firm?” the Taoist shook his head.

Zhang Chi was skeptical. “If the court is full of fools, why is Jiankang now so heavily guarded, as though facing a great enemy?”

“They may be fools, but not everyone is. If there is one person among the noble houses of Jiankang who is not a fool, it is Miss Wang, who commands the troops of the House of Xie.”

Hearing mention of Miss Wang, Zhang Chi’s heart gave a jolt. In such a crisis, what would someone as clever as she do? But Miss Wang was the daughter of Wang Guobao—how did she come to command the Xie family’s forces?

“Miss Wang is no ordinary person,” the Taoist said, stroking his beard as if reading Zhang Chi’s thoughts. “She is indeed the daughter of Wang Guobao, the current Vice Minister of the Left, but she is also the granddaughter of the great Chancellor Xie An. The House of Xie has long produced exceptional heirs, though only one per generation. Sadly, in this generation, the heir’s talents are mediocre. Thus, on his deathbed, Xie An entrusted Miss Wang with command of the Xie family’s troops, to safeguard the empire.”

“The House of Xie, though powerful, has always been loyal. Of the four great clans of the Jin—the Wang, Xie, Yu, and Huan—only the Xie are wholly devoted to the state. Unfortunately, the Sima royal family, in their folly, stripped the Xie of command over the Northern Army, allowing Huan Xuan to rise. Now, Wang Gong and Yin Zhongkan have been incited by Huan Xuan to attack Jiankang, while the Xie’s influence wanes. It serves them right—the Sima family has brought ruin upon itself and now reaps the bitter fruit!”

As the old Taoist expounded, Zhang Chi finally gained a broad understanding of the state of the realm. He asked, “Then how do you see the future unfolding?”

“The current situation is like the stories in books,” the Taoist replied, raising his brows and shaking his head. “The cicada perches high, sipping dew, unaware of the mantis stalking it from behind. The mantis bends to seize the cicada, not knowing a yellow sparrow waits behind it. The sparrow, poised to strike the mantis, is itself unaware of the man with a slingshot lurking behind. The players in the game are truly laughable.”

He looked at Zhang Chi and said, “You ask of the future? The mantis eats the cicada; the mantis is eaten by the sparrow; the sparrow, though it can devour the mantis, may yet fall to the man with the slingshot.”

Zhang Chi pondered these words, sensing layers of meaning, and asked, “But who, then, are the mantis, the sparrow, and the cicada? With events in such turmoil, how can they be distinguished?”

“The Sima dynasty is but a droplet of dew; the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice, seeking to seize power, is the humble cicada. Miss Wang, striving to preserve the dynasty, stands as the mantis—she cannot allow the cult to succeed. Yet the Jin’s mandate is all but spent; heaven’s will cannot be defied.”

“Miss Wang, as brilliant as she is, is but the mantis. Then who is the sparrow?” Zhang Chi could not help but ask.

“Huan Xuan, who has long bided his time, is the sparrow,” the Taoist replied. “He will be the one to finally overturn the Sima regime.”

“And the man with the slingshot behind the sparrow?”

The old Taoist had been waiting for this question. Suddenly, he dropped his playful manner and, in a voice as firm as iron, declared, “The great houses will decline; the humble shall rise. When the land is thrown into chaos, there will come a man of humble birth, clad in blue and astride a white horse, who will ride forth to unite the heroes of the land. He will pacify the south, drive out the northern barbarians, water his horses in the Yellow River, and contest the wilds beyond the border. And this man is you, my young friend—you will be the one who stands behind the sparrow with the slingshot!”

This sudden, solemn pronouncement startled Zhang Chi, especially the final words.

“With just a few battered coins, you can deduce all this?” Zhang Chi could not believe that someone as easygoing as himself could accomplish great things.

“Do not underestimate my coins,” the Taoist immediately reverted to his earlier, roguish demeanor. “These coins were passed down by our founder. You may doubt me, but my sect is very famous.”

“May I ask which sect you belong to?” Zhang Chi inquired.

“The School of Heavenly Secrets. And I am the current head of the sect,” the Taoist replied with a mysterious smile. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

Zhang Chi had met nothing but extraordinary people since his arrival in this world, each more formidable than the last, so he had become somewhat immune to surprise. Yet the name “School of Heavenly Secrets” sounded formidable, and he couldn’t help but ask, “It does sound impressive. How many disciples do you have?”

The old Taoist held up four fingers. Zhang Chi wondered if it was four thousand, forty thousand, or even more. But the Taoist’s answer left him speechless.

“Four.”

“The grand head of the School of Heavenly Secrets commands only four people?” Zhang Chi was both amused and exasperated.

“Not quite,” said the Taoist, and what followed was even more ridiculous. He added, in all seriousness, “That’s counting myself among the four.”