Chapter 127: Breaking and Rebuilding

When I heard that Guo Zhongyong had once carried a painting depicting a dead golden dragon, I found him immensely impressive. The image of him ascending Mount Longhu alone, followed by his visit to the Fatty’s sect, exuded a scholar’s spirit that seemed to command respect from all directions.

Perhaps noticing my fascination, the Fatty curled his lip in disdain. "Guo Zhongyong, who was unknown at the time, rose to prominence because of the appreciation of the Guangxu Emperor. It is true the Emperor wanted to save the nation, but he was more concerned with saving his own dynasty. After all, with the country suffering from territorial concessions, indemnity payments, and the humiliation of the state, everyone knew the Qing Dynasty was finished. In the eyes of his contemporaries—and as the Guangxu Emperor himself put it—Guo Zhongyong was the final straw for the Qing. Whether it was Mount Longhu or my own sect, they looked down on him for that painting of the dead golden dragon, mocking him as unworthy of the title 'Crouching Dragon.' Zhuge Liang served the Shu Han knowing full well the task was impossible, yet he persisted. Guo, however, was commissioned by the Guangxu Emperor to extend the life of the Qing, but instead of doing so, he proclaimed the golden dragon was dead. Everyone knew the Emperor was the dragon, and that the golden dragon's death signified the end of the Qing. It was common knowledge, so no one took his painting to heart.

"What truly made Mount Longhu and my sect sit up and take notice was his rhetoric. He claimed the painting did not signify the end of the Qing, but rather that with the death of the golden dragon, there would never again be a 'true dragon'—a Son of Heaven—on earth. He meant there would be no more emperors. This was a heretical view. Since Qin Shi Huang unified the realm, the cycle of dynasties had always been one of lords and ministers serving the Son of Heaven. If there is no Son of Heaven, how can there be a nation? Everyone thought Guo was a madman, and both Mount Longhu and my sect agreed. You can guess what happened next: after the fall of the Qing, the Republic was established, and indeed, there were no more emperors. Western influence shattered five thousand years of Chinese tradition, and only then did everyone realize Guo's foresight. The first time he visited us, he carried an imperial decree; otherwise, he would never have been allowed in. But this time, he was invited as a guest of honor."

The Fatty continued, "The elders of my sect held secret talks with Guo for many days, but they eventually parted on bad terms. I must tell you about my sect: we are the Yuhuang Dao. I know you've been curious, Ye, as to why I show no respect to the gods—it is because the Yuhuang Dao is a direct lineage of the Primordial Lord of Heaven (Yuanshi Tianzun). We practice his secret arts, and by association, our seniority is incredibly high. I am, in essence, an aristocrat among Taoist practitioners. My sect usually dwells in seclusion within the Kunlun Mountains. We only emerge during times of chaos; hence the saying, 'When the world is in turmoil, the Yuhuang emerges.' As the foundation of China’s ancestral dragon, my sect has the duty to guard the dragon vein. Now you understand how powerful my sect is, right? The elders couldn't reach an agreement with Guo for two reasons: first, they discovered he was a practitioner of the Ghost Path; second, when they asked him how to lead China out of the chaos, his solution was to 'destroy in order to rebuild.' He argued that since the golden dragon was dead, China would enter an unprecedented era. He wanted my sect to release the Kunlun dragon energy into the world. He envisioned a society where the people were their own masters. To the elders, this was not just heresy; it was treason. They nearly killed him on the spot, believing he had ulterior motives."

The Fatty sighed. "In choosing not to cooperate with Guo, my sect lost the first move. They drove him out of Kunlun, so he went straight to Mount Longhu. He actually persuaded the Celestial Master’s Mansion to join him in this mad feng shui campaign, which the community calls 'Guo Zhongyong’s Destruction and Rebuilding.'

"Without the ancestral dragon energy of Kunlun, Guo and the Celestial Master’s Mansion began dispersing the dragon energy across the land. Though Kunlun is the root, the dragon has nine sons, and there are countless branch veins. While ordinary people would consider finding a single dragon hole a treasure, Guo and the Ghost Path systematically destroyed all the branch veins, scattering their power to the winds. They even excavated the imperial tombs of the Qing to leak the remaining energy. Their audacity plunged the country into chaos; warlords fought everywhere because the dragon energy was too fragmented—everyone thought they were the 'true Son of Heaven.' Mount Longhu and Guo were condemned by every practitioner of note. Yet, somehow, Guo convinced the Celestial Master’s Mansion to release the 'Dragon and Tiger' energy of the mountain itself—the very foundation of their sect. This was akin to gambling their entire legacy. The result was that the warlord era ended, but the nation entered a period of 'Dragon and Tiger' strife. You know what that dragon and tiger represent, so I don't need to explain."

"After the Japanese were driven out, the country became a battleground for the Dragon and the Tiger. You can likely guess who they supported. As the situation clarified, Guo's plan was realized step by step. The gamble paid off for both Guo and Mount Longhu. My sect, realizing too late that we had missed the opening move, made another disastrous decision: we went all-in to support the 'Tiger' south of the Yangtze. That tiger was much stronger than the 'Dragon' at the time, but the result was a crushing defeat. We lost everything to Guo’s Ghost Path. In the end, my sect gave that toothless tiger one last chance, which led to the retreat to Taiwan. Your grandfather was one of Guo’s key lieutenants. Now you know why I didn't dare reveal my identity while he was alive. The Yuhuang Dao and the Ghost Path are bitter enemies. If we had met, he would have smacked me into oblivion."

After the Fatty finished, I felt cold sweat drenching my clothes. I looked at Han Xue and saw the same beads of sweat on her forehead. She caught my gaze and smiled, then said to the Fatty, "I don't believe a word of it. Every trade has its own jargon—are you suggesting all those historical struggles were just battles of feng shui?"

The Fatty rolled his eyes. "What does a young girl know? The battlefield is unpredictable, but feng shui is mysterious and profound. There are forces at play that the naked eye cannot see. You don't believe it only because people don't talk about it. Once you truly step into this world, you will realize how uncanny it all is."

I felt much like Han Xue—skeptical—but the Fatty’s story was so logically consistent that I couldn't help but be swayed. I felt no resentment toward him; he had hinted at these things before, though never as comprehensively as today.

"If your sect lost so badly," I asked, "why are you still so prominent? I know the Celestial Master’s Mansion is powerful, but until these recent events, I had never even heard of the Ghost Path. Isn't it true that history is written by the victors?"