The Legacy of a Choice

　　My father didn't even bother to register the words "King of Fengshui." 

　　He just saw a decrepit old Taoist in ragged robes and tattered straw sandals. 

　　What could such a man possibly offer our family?

　　Matchmakers had already lined up, each presenting potential wives for me. 

　　As the offers grew more extravagant—promises of wealth, titles, and influence—my father's expectations soared. 

　　All the suitors who came were either affluent or influential, adorned in fine silks and jewels. 

　　What gave this raggedy old Daoist the audacity to believe he could claim his son as a disciple?

　　Yet, when the other masters laid eyes on the old Taoist, their expressions shifted, painted with a spectrum of emotions: surprise, reverence, even unease flickered across their faces.

　　"Master Li," began the elder named Shen, "You haven't graced us with your presence in years. To what do we owe this unexpected honor?"

　　The old Taoist scoffed, "To leave such a gem in the hands of charlatans like yourselves would be a travesty. Did you think I would simply stand by and watch you squander his potential?"

　　Instead of taking offense, Shen smiled and offered a respectful bow. 

　　 "Since Master Li has come to accept a disciple, it is not our place to interfere. The world is vast, and our paths are long. Until we meet again, Master Li."

　　With that, Shen, along with his entourage, bowed deeply to the old Taoist and departed. 

　　The old Taoist didn't even spare them a glance. 

　　 He simply surveyed the remaining men with a disdainful eye. 

　　"Why do you linger? Are you hoping for an invitation to lunch?"

　　The stout monk named Jue Ming puffed out his chest and declared, "I won't stand for this, old man! I was here first. Why should you automatically have him as your disciple? I want to take him as well!"

　　The Old Taoist narrowed his eyes, "Are you challenging me? Very well. Best me in a duel, and you can take him." 

　　Jue Ming's bluster deflated immediately. 

　　He muttered about being bullied and stormed off, clearly not daring to engage Master Li in a fight.

　　The remaining two masters, Yang and Ma, seemed to share Jue Ming's wariness. 

　　They offered a hurried bow and retreated in silence. 

　　Just as quickly as they arrived, they were gone. 

　　 The roar of engines filled the air as the luxury cars that had lined the road outside our home disappeared in a cloud of dust.

　　The villagers, however, remained, clustered outside our gate, buzzing with curiosity. 

　　Some even clambered onto walls, craning their necks to get a glimpse into the courtyard. 

　　Our small village of Jiushan had never seen such a spectacle—so many outsiders, so many cars, such an air of wealth and importance. 

　　No one understood why these people had descended upon our humble home.

　　The truth was, our family was just as bewildered as the villagers. 

　　Granny Liu, my parents, my grandparents—all of us were still reeling from the chaos.

　　Only the old Taoist remained, an island of serenity in the middle of the courtyard.

　　Finally regaining his senses, my grandfather walked over to the gate and addressed the crowd. 

　　 "Thank you all for your concern, but my grandson is unwell. These kind people were merely here to check on him. Please return to your homes." 

　　 With that, he closed the gate firmly. 

　　Turning back to the old Taoist, he asked politely, "Master, if you would be so kind as to follow me, I will take you to my grandson." 

　　My father, however, stepped forward hesitantly. 

　　"Master, you mentioned taking my son as your disciple?"

　　The old Taoist nodded silently. 

　　"May I ask," my father continued cautiously, "will my son still be able to marry and have a family if he becomes your disciple?" 

　　"Of course," replied the old Taoist, a touch of amusement in his voice. "I belong to the Zhengdao order. We do not forbid marriage, family, or even the enjoyment of good food and drink. All things in moderation."

　　"And one more thing…would you be able to find a suitable wife for my son?"

　　The old man was clearly starting to get on the old Taoist's nerves, but he merely snorted and said, "Finding a wife would be the least of his concerns! As my disciple, he would have his pick of worthy candidates!"

　　My father was unconvinced. 

　　The old Taoist was obviously poor and unkempt—he probably didn't even have a wife himself! 

　　How could he be so confident? 

　　My grandfather, sensing the old Taoist's growing impatience, interjected gently, "Master, we are eternally grateful for your willingness to take on our son as a disciple. However, his condition is worsening by the hour. Would you mind if we discussed the details later? "

　　The old Taoist looked at my grandfather. 

　　"The boy's condition is dire, that much is true. Rest assured, once I intervene, he will recover quickly. However, there are some conditions we must agree upon beforehand." 

　　"Of course, Master. As long as it means our grandson will live and thrive, we are willing to agree to any terms," my grandfather said earnestly. 

　　"The moment the boy recovers, he leaves with me to begin his training. For ten years, he will have no contact with his family."

　　The family was stunned. 

　　 "What if we miss him?" My mother cried, her voice trembling. "Can we at least visit?" 

　　"No," the old Taoist stated flatly. "He will not return home nor receive visitors during his training. That is not open for debate."

　　My father was devastated. 

　　The other masters had promised fame, fortune, and advantageous marriages—none of them had mentioned taking me away. 

　　And ten years was an eternity!

　　 I wouldn't see my family, my friends, my home. 

　　Unfortunately, it was too late for regrets. 

　　The others were gone, without leaving so much as a name or address.

　　Finally, Granny Liu spoke up. 

　　"We have come too far to turn back now. As long as the child lives and grows up strong, nothing else matters." 

　　Hers were the words of practicality, of acceptance. 

　　 And so, with heavy hearts, my family agreed to the old Taoist's terms.

　　The old Taoist was escorted to my bedside. 

　　By then, I was gravely ill. 

　　My skin was covered in strange discolored patches, my face was ashen and drained of blood, and my breathing was shallow and ragged.

　　The old Taoist studied me for a long moment. 

　　Finally, he murmured more to himself than anyone else, "Born under a dark star, destined for a life of tribulations. Eighteen trials await him, each one a brush with death." 

　　Then, looking down at me, a glimmer of something akin to sympathy flickered in his eyes. 

　　"But fortune smiles on you this day, young one. For you have met Li Xuantong." 

　　He placed his hand on my head and, in a voice that seemed to command the heavens, roared.

　　"Begone!"