Seeking Fortune and Avoiding Misfortune: Starting from the Celestial Master’s Mansion
Chapter 53: Confucian Practitioner

Lei Jun was immersed in his thoughts when he suddenly noticed an anomaly in the water's flow. Using the second layer of his Water-Averting Golden Eyes, he peered through the floodwaters to observe the situation outside.

In the western mountains near Qingxiao Lake, he saw someone striding across the terrain with ease, unaffected by the raging floodwaters before him. The figure, a scholar clad in a Confucian robe, appeared to be a man in his thirties or forties, with a refined yet sharp countenance. Although Lei Jun didn’t recognize the man, he immediately noticed a familiar face trailing behind him: Fang Mingyuan, a young master of the Fang family from Jingxiang, accompanied by several servants. Among the servants was a bedraggled middle-aged Daoist—none other than Qin Tao, who had fled earlier.

“I was told Luo Haoran was here?” Fang Mingyuan frowned.

The scholar shifted his gaze to an elderly Daoist sitting cross-legged—Lu Zhaoqing—and said with mild surprise, “I heard there’s a talented disciple from Tianshi Mansion named Luo Haoran. Might you know where he is?”

“Luo Shizhi left some time ago,” Lu Zhaoqing replied cautiously, though he quickly composed himself. “I, an old Daoist, am the only one left here. May I ask who you are, and why you seek Luo Shizhi? If it is convenient, I could relay a message to him later.”

The scholar smiled amicably. “My surname is Fang, given name Yue. I hail from Jingxiang. I came today to meet Luo Daozhang regarding a matter involving my cousin, Fang Mingyuan.”

Lu Zhaoqing took a deep breath. “So, you are Mr. Fang of the renowned Fang family from Jingxiang. My apologies for not recognizing you earlier. As for the incident you mentioned, I have heard bits about it, but I understand it has already been addressed by Mount Longhu.”

“Please, ‘Mr.’ is too formal,” Fang Yue replied, his tone composed. “My courtesy name is Duanfeng. Daozhang may call me by that. Moreover, you misunderstand my intentions. As you said, the matter on Mount Longhu has been resolved, and I would not pursue it further. Today, I came to thank Luo Daozhang for saving my cousin Mingyuan at Xunjiang.”

“Huh?” Both Lu Zhaoqing and Lei Jun—watching via his Water-Averting Golden Eyes—were momentarily stunned. Even Fang Mingyuan looked at Fang Yue in disbelief.

Facing his cousin’s astonishment, Fang Yue met his gaze calmly and said, “A gentleman repays kindness with virtue and grievances with straightforwardness. How could one repay kindness with enmity?”

“You…” Fang Mingyuan was at a loss for words.

Under the concealment of his Water-Averting Golden Eyes, Lei Jun raised a brow. Was this an elaborate ploy? Or had Fang Yue sensed some danger and decided to retreat strategically? Lei Jun scanned his surroundings. For a moment, he suspected his master, Yuan Mobai, had arrived undetected and frightened Fang Yue into this behavior.

Considering that the Fang family had entered from the western pass, Lei Jun pondered if they had drawn a Lower-Moderate Omen on this trip.

Lu Zhaoqing remained vigilant, especially after catching Fang Mingyuan’s uneasy expression. “Young Master Fang, your words are gracious. Unfortunately, Luo Shizhi is not here at the moment. Should I encounter him later, I will pass along your message.”

While speaking, the elder Daoist shifted his gaze to Qin Tao. The latter, visibly injured and restrained by the Fang family servants, looked thoroughly humiliated. His predicament made it clear that the visitors were not entirely friendly.

“We happened to meet Lin clan members from Jiangzhou on our way here,” Fang Yue explained, gesturing for the servants to release Qin Tao. “They were attempting to capture this Daoist. Qin Daozhang here was kind enough to give us a detailed account of your sect’s presence around Qingxiao Lake.”

Lu Zhaoqing’s face darkened. “Lin clan from Jiangzhou?”

Qin Tao’s eyes darted nervously, his guilt evident under Lu Zhaoqing’s scrutinizing gaze. Whatever he had told the Lin clan, it was tantamount to being a traitorous guide.

“Disciples like me…” Qin Tao stammered, but the sharp glare from Fang Yue silenced him. His tongue faltered under the scholar’s piercing, clear gaze.

“Jiangzhou’s Lin clan’s audacity is beyond anything I could have expected,” Lu Zhaoqing muttered. Though his body showed signs of age, his mind remained sharp. Waving his sleeve, he gestured for Qin Tao to stand aside and addressed Fang Yue. “Thank you, Young Master Fang, for your righteous intervention. This old Daoist is deeply grateful.”

“Daozhang, no need for courtesy.” Fang Yue inclined his head modestly. Looking at the tumultuous waters of Xuantian Lake, he said, “Your efforts to control the flood and relieve the people are truly a blessing. Allow me to lend a hand. Mingyuan, accompany me.”

Lu Zhaoqing’s expression changed, but before he could intervene, Fang Yue had already stepped forward with Fang Mingyuan in tow. The scholar began reciting a poem in a melodious tone:

“The clouds drift and the fresh rain clears,

The moon shines bright over the great river.”

A gentle breeze arose around him, breaking through the waters of Xuantian Lake. The moonlight seemed to pierce through the waves, suppressing the raging flood.

Lu Zhaoqing watched in astonishment, clutching a Thunder Talisman in his palm, ready for any unexpected action. Meanwhile, Lei Jun, hidden within the lake alongside Luo Haoran, utilized his Life-Bound Wind Talismans crafted with Vermilion-Tipped Brushes to blend into the floodwaters and evade detection. The two concealed themselves behind mountain rocks, taking advantage of the spiritual turbulence caused by the flood.

From this vantage point, Lei Jun observed Fang Yue’s technique, marveling at the scholar’s poetic incantation—a hallmark of the Confucian Poetry Recitation lineage. It was Lei Jun’s first time witnessing a scholar of such caliber in action, and he noted the unique attributes of this lineage compared to the mainstream Confucian traditions. In combat, their strength lay in their ability to harness natural forces through poetry, resembling a stationary, spell-casting mage.

As Fang Yue stabilized the lake, Fang Mingyuan whispered, “Thirteenth Brother, were you pretending earlier to stall for time while searching for Luo Daozhang?”

The scholar ceased his actions and turned to look at his younger cousin. “A gentleman repays kindness with virtue and grievances with straightforwardness. How could one repay kindness with enmity?” he repeated.

“You weren’t lying?” Fang Mingyuan asked incredulously.

“Why would I deceive anyone, least of all you?” Fang Yue replied evenly.

Fang Mingyuan was momentarily speechless. Recalling how he had enthusiastically invited his thirteenth brother to accompany him in dealing with Luo Haoran, Fang Mingyuan now felt thoroughly embarrassed. His thirteenth brother had merely remarked, “It is indeed appropriate to meet Luo Daozhang,” without disclosing any ulterior motives.

Now, confronted with Fang Yue’s unyielding principles, Fang Mingyuan could only mutter, “You think you’re so righteous, lecturing me like an elder just because you look older! You’re only two years older than me!”

“Correct,” Fang Yue replied without missing a beat. “But I am mature beyond my years, not prematurely aged.”

Lei Jun nearly laughed aloud in his hiding spot. Despite Fang Yue’s youthful age of just over twenty, his refined demeanor and aged appearance had initially led Lei Jun to believe he was a senior relative. Yet, within the distinguished Fang family, such precocious talent was rare. Nevertheless, Lei Jun couldn't help but muse: This guy looks way older than he should.

Suddenly, a deafening roar erupted from the north, interrupting the tense atmosphere. Everyone turned toward the source of the sound, Lei Jun included.

Could this be the omen fulfilling itself? Lei Jun wondered. But who could have triggered it in the northern mountains?