Chapter 23: Seeking the Master

I began pondering ways to circumvent the rules my grandfather had set. To do so, I needed to unravel the threads and understand the deeper reason behind his decision. I recalled the scene before my grandfather and brother boarded the boat. That day, he quietly pulled me aside and instructed me that if he and my brother didn't return, I should diligently study the "River Guardian Compendium," and never let outsiders know I had inherited his true teachings. Then, I thought of the rule that only one River Guardian can be chosen per generation. There seemed to be no direct conflict between these two matters, but I still felt something was amiss.

I racked my brain, and suddenly a spark of insight flashed in my mind.

Not return!

The crux lay in those three words. Not returning didn’t necessarily mean my grandfather and brother were dead. He told me that if he didn't come back, I should study the "River Guardian Compendium." But what if they were still alive?

That would contradict the rule that only one River Guardian can exist per generation. My grandfather was a meticulous man, and the tradition of the River Guardians was a grave matter. It was impossible that he had misspoken. There must be a deeper reason behind his words.

Once I understood this, my thoughts opened up. Recalling that my great-grandfather had taught two of my grandfather's brothers the same arts, I boldly guessed that there must be something far more terrifying than the Dragon King of the Yellow River, something that feared the emergence of two River Guardians in one generation. If such a situation arose, it would surely destroy them. Thus, while my grandfather and brother's fate remained uncertain, I absolutely could not reveal my identity as a River Guardian, or calamity would befall me.

Therefore, if I wished to demonstrate my abilities in front of outsiders, I had to make them believe my powers had nothing to do with the River Guardian tradition. That way, the dreadful entity would not take action against me.

To convince others that my skills came from another master, I needed to find a formidable mentor for myself—at the very least, someone capable of moving cargo ships on the canal. If my abilities surpassed those of my supposed master, my story would not hold up.

Although this guess was bold, it was theoretically sound. Besides, the Bai family would be holding their marriage selection tomorrow. No matter what, I had to try. I needed to seek clues about my grandfather and brother, and I had truly fallen in love with Bai Xiaoli. I could not bear to see her wed another. I had to take this risk based on my deduction.

Determined, I tidied myself up and began searching for a master on Feng Shui Street. In my situation, I couldn't search openly, or it would be obvious I was trying to exploit a loophole. But searching discreetly made it hard to find a powerful geomancer, which was a dilemma.

I wandered most of Feng Shui Street, encountering only charlatans and frauds, not a single genuine expert. This left me desperate—Bai family's marriage selection would begin tomorrow morning, and if I couldn't find a suitable master, I would have to rethink my plan.

Just as I was at the end of my rope, I spotted a tiny house tucked away in the most secluded corner of Feng Shui Street. In broad daylight, it was shrouded in an eerie chill—the first time I had ever seen such a thing.

Clinging to my last hope, I entered. The moment I stepped inside, a shiver ran through me from the cold. I surveyed the small room, barely over ten square meters, but packed with shelves. Each shelf held rows of cat bone jars, each jar labeled with a name and adorned with offerings. The chill emanated from these jars.

Such jars were typically used to hold the remains of miscarried infants. What business could this shop possibly run, to have so many cat bone jars? I couldn’t help but feel puzzled.

"Young man, looking to guide the spirits? How many months was the child?" As I was lost in thought, a sinister voice sounded behind me.

I spun around, startled. An elderly woman, hunched and dressed in black funeral robes, stood before me. Her cataracts were severe, and she squinted as she peered at me.