Chapter Sixty-One: The Celestial Rite

Li Zisheng naturally understood that the key to this excursion lay in the old man before him. He found it impossible to believe that a single poem could fully convey his role within the Heavenly Secrets Institute; there must be other hidden implications. However, since the old man had handed him the note, it signified that his utility was far more complex and specific than the vague lines of the poem suggested. The core of the matter had likely been relayed to the old man orally, or perhaps there were other notes, and the one he had seen was merely a fragment.

Even though the Heavenly Secrets Institute called him a "fated individual," they had no obligation to reveal these things to him, let alone deeper secrets.

Li Zisheng calmly handed the note to Zhang Ying, who stood nearby. Even with his own limited insight, he could discern a few clues from the poem, and given the old man's sagacity, he surely understood them as well. If the old man had not shown it to him, it would have been one thing, but by choosing to reveal it, he clearly had an ulterior motive. Perhaps he was testing Li Zisheng—a minor matter—but more importantly, he was gauging Li Zisheng’s reaction. The poem described a figure capable of altering the tides of history; surely even this old man was curious to see what such a person looked like.

After passing the note over, Li Zisheng looked at the old man, his eyes clear and devoid of confusion. He knew that by showing him the note, the other party was preparing to lay his cards on the table and reveal the true purpose behind seeking him out.

Yet, Li Zisheng remained puzzled. Was it truly fate that had brought him to this medical tent? He was certain that his arrival had been nothing more than a whim, with no deeper reason behind it.

Li Zisheng waited quietly for the old man’s demands. The old man sat in silence, and neither Zhang Ying nor the old man’s attendant spoke, standing still as statues.

A moment of silence might have been fine, but nearly the time it took to brew a cup of tea had passed, and the old man remained as steady as a mountain. This was a stark contrast to when Li Zisheng had first entered; then, the old man had been warm and talkative, but now he was clearly giving him the cold shoulder.

Li Zisheng understood this tactic; it was merely a way to apply pressure, to leave him flustered so that whatever he said or did next would be controlled by the old man.

Such tactics might work on others, but they were ineffective against him. He was no fool, nor was he some wet-behind-the-ears novice. The man before him was clearly a person of great influence, and more importantly, a person of great influence who had something to ask of him. Once that was realized, the purpose of the old man’s behavior became obvious: he wanted to use Li Zisheng but was unwilling to let him feel the arrogance of being needed. On this point, Li Zisheng was clear.

If Li Zisheng had one particular strength, it was the mental discipline and composure cultivated during his time as a science student. Standing there, he ignored the old man’s attitude and the presence of Zhang Ying, simply closing his eyes and standing with calm indifference, much like an elder who had seen everything the world had to offer.

This stillness began to command the old man’s genuine respect. The calligraphy he had displayed earlier had merely piqued the old man’s curiosity, not yet winning his admiration. But this inner serenity truly caught the old man’s attention and earned his esteem.

Nearly another stick of incense had burned away when the clamorous debate of the physicians outside ceased. Hearing the silence, Li Zisheng realized it was time for the old man to show his hand.

"I did not expect such composure from a young physician. It seems I am truly getting old, and my heart is willing but my strength is failing."

The old man looked at Li Zisheng with a faint smile. Li Zisheng responded calmly, "Sir, you are too modest. I merely possess a bit of patience; there is nothing worthy of praise." He spoke with typical humility, a standard response he knew well. Coming from the modern era, he possessed a breadth of knowledge far exceeding that of people in this age. Even if the man before him was a sage who understood the human heart, his perspective was limited by his era, whereas Li Zisheng stood on the shoulders of giants.

Li Zisheng’s answer made the old man frown. This was not the disposition of a child. The absolute, bottomless indifference Li Zisheng displayed made the old man feel, for the first time, that he could not see through him.

The old man frowned and looked at Zhang Ying, who understood the cue. He reached into his robes and produced a thin volume, handing it to Li Zisheng.

Li Zisheng took the book. He knew he had slightly won this game of waiting, but he felt no need to boast or show pride.

The volume in his hand was yellowed with age, its ink fading, yet one could still clearly see four grand characters written in formal seal script on the cover. The characters were antique and elegant; it took Li Zisheng a long time to decipher them, recalling them from a seminar he had attended in the past.

*The Rites of Heavenly Destiny.*

Li Zisheng felt a surge of confusion. What could this mean?