Chapter Fourteen: Guidance Through the Maze

The sunlight at dawn was tranquil and refined, devoid of any clamor, soothing the mind and lifting the spirit. The morning sun cast golden rays through the sparse clouds, bathing the entire villa complex in brilliance; it was as if the villas were draped in a pristine bridal veil, shimmering with light.

Charming country-style villas nestled amidst lush greenery, offering an escape from the hustle and bustle of the city, creating a haven of extraordinary comfort and serenity. On the streets of the villa district, elderly men played chess, children frolicked, and cleaners went about their tasks—a scene of harmony and warmth prevailed. The moist breeze gently swept by, cooling the air.

A gentle wind slipped through the glass window into the living room of one white villa, dispersing the lingering traces of smoke from a recently finished skirmish. Lin Fan, his hair disheveled and clothes tattered, sat on the sofa, covering his left eye, fuming and looking every bit like a wronged housewife. In contrast, Lin Hai lounged beside him, legs crossed, picking his teeth, radiating satisfaction and exuding the air of a king. He hummed a tune, shaking his head, and teased Lin Fan:

"My dear nephew, how does it feel? Wasn't my full-body massage just now comfortable? You overreacted, for heaven’s sake—could you be quieter next time? You screamed like a pig on its way to slaughter, making a racket. Damn it, if the neighbors heard, they'd think I’m into child abuse."

"Come on! You old bastard! You really do abuse children—crushing the hopes of the nation! Others charge for massages; you charge with my life! Luckily I’m strong and healthy, not like some people who look worse than they are—otherwise, you’d have killed me." Lin Fan recalled the embarrassing scene when he first came home and was ambushed by Lin Hai with a burlap sack, venting his anger with words since he had nowhere else to direct it.

"Ah, you little rascal, seems you enjoyed it! Still daring to provoke me? Maybe I wasn’t thorough enough. I should go another round." Lin Hai rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a wooden stick, ready for another epic battle.

Seeing another disaster looming, Lin Fan quickly changed his attitude and pleaded, "Uncle, uncle, let’s talk calmly. We’re adults now—no need for violence! If you break any furniture, we’ll have to pay to replace it, such a waste! Besides, you've worked hard all morning, take a break!"

Lin Hai was pleased, secretly admiring, "The kid’s learning quickly—becoming quite shrewd." He put away his weapon and said calmly, "Now that’s a sensible remark—not a waste of my teaching."

"All thanks to your guidance, uncle." Lin Fan seized the opportunity to ask all the questions he’d encountered during his training. "Uncle, I’ve been practicing for so long, why can’t I even perform the basic spells? I’ve mastered the fundamental gestures, but still can’t sense any spiritual energy within me. The seal technique is so difficult—did you forget to teach me some secret passed only to daughters, not sons? Don’t keep it to yourself. My cousin will eventually marry out; she’s unreliable… Hey, that 'Chronicle of Creation'—did you buy it from a street vendor to fool me?"

He looked at Lin Hai with suspicion. Lin Hai immediately widened his eyes and cursed, "Damn it! Who do you think you are? Would I go to such lengths to trick a fool? You stare at the computer every day—can’t you see the motto 'Form follows intention, intention arises from the heart'?"

Lin Fan blinked and asked, "What does it mean?"

Lin Hai replied with disdain, "If I spend much more time with you, I’ll be qualified as a translator. Idiot! It means the heart gives rise to intention, intention gives rise to movement. The heart is your core, but intention can be external. The heart is the true master; all techniques are just forms, requiring harmony with intent. Using chants as a guide, you must vibrate your internal energy channels and awaken your life potential to unleash supernatural power. All three must be perfectly aligned. Actually, you can also interpret it as 'form follows the heart, appearance arises from the heart'—which I find more accurate. Got it?"

Lin Fan nodded, "Yeah, half of it."

"I’m speechless… Well, you’re not entirely to blame. Back then, I had to practice for ages before achieving what I have now—not easy! Some things you have to grasp yourself; words can't convey them. But don’t lose heart—judging by your aptitude, you should achieve minor success in thirty to fifty years."

Lin Hai exaggerated to motivate him. Lin Fan was shocked—minor success taking thirty to fifty years? If he wanted to achieve greatness and overthrow his master, he'd be dead long before then! He hurriedly said, "Damn! That won’t do! Uncle, maybe I should learn something else."

"Alright, I could teach you the array technique. With your talent, maybe you’ll manage to draw your own soul-calming array before you die," Lin Hai mocked.

Lin Fan asked, "Isn’t there anything easier?"

Lin Hai replied angrily, "Seal technique is the simplest! What more do you want?"

Lin Fan sighed in resignation, "Fine, I’ll stick with it. Starting today, I’ll work overtime, strive hard, and make up for those lost years of talent."

Lin Hai secretly breathed a sigh of relief and said with a straight face, "That’s better. But I warn you, make up for your own shortcomings, don’t drag me into it. At my age, I can’t let you ruin a few more years of my life."

---

Lin Fan shook his head, teasing, "Uncle, that won’t do! Without you, my achievements are limited."

Lin Hai immediately picked up the stick and knocked it against Lin Fan’s head, threatening, "Don’t flatter me. If you disturb my sleep again, I’ll beat you so hard you won’t even recognize yourself."

...

In the following days, Lin Fan seemed possessed—practicing day and night, Lin Hai’s warnings long forgotten. The same routine repeated: Lin Fan woke Lin Hai in the middle of the night, got beaten, but received a satisfactory answer; then, at dawn, both were beaten by Lin Qi and endured a nightmare breakfast.

The cycle continued, but Lin Fan grew more determined, his enthusiasm for cultivation rising. Lin Qi was happy with the arrangement—he got exercise and improved his cooking, so why not? Only Lin Hai was tortured beyond recognition.

Another weekend morning arrived, and with a rare school event, Lin Qi rushed off before dawn. In the bedroom, Lin Fan dozed off on his keyboard, while Lin Hai slept on the bed, gripping a baseball bat.

The alarm clock on the nightstand had long stopped, the floor was littered with debris, curtains tightly drawn, time slipping by, and the villa was unusually quiet.

“Ring… ring… ring…”

“Bang… bang… bang…”

After the ringing came a violent pounding on the door, shattering the rare peace of the past days.

Lin Fan crawled up from the desk, rubbed his eyes, twisted his stiff neck, assuming Lin Qi had gone grocery shopping and forgotten his keys again. He rose, squinting, to open the door.

Suddenly, Lin Hai sat up reflexively, raised the baseball bat, and was about to strike Lin Fan.

Startled, Lin Fan’s sleepiness vanished; he quickly waved his arms, pleading, "Uncle, uncle! Take it easy! This time it’s not me—I’m a victim too..."

But it was too late. Lin Hai, not caring who it was, thinking his sleep had been disturbed, swung the bat straight down.

"Ow... damn!" If Lin Fan hadn’t reflexively blocked with his arm, his head might have split open.

Lin Hai slowly opened his eyes, hearing the door still banging, realized he had indeed struck the wrong person, but felt no remorse, listlessly saying, "Sorry, mistaken injury! But you’re not innocent—it’s just instinct! Consider it interest." He lay back down.

"Damn! You really take advantage of everything. Ouch—he’s getting addicted to hitting me and stronger every time." Lin Fan grumbled, clutching his arm, as he went downstairs to open the door.

Reaching the door, Lin Fan instinctively glanced at the video intercom. His hand withdrew from the handle, puzzled, "Huh? Not my sister. Why is it her?"

He pressed the intercom button and pretended, "Mrs. Zhang, forgive our lack of hospitality. Please wait a moment with your companion; my master is at a critical point in cultivation and any disturbance could cause his body to explode. Please be patient—Amitabha!"

At the door were two women: one was Zhang Hua, head of the Zhang Group, accompanied by a noble-looking middle-aged lady.

Hearing Lin Fan’s words, Zhang Hua thought, "Still the same excuse—after all this time, why the pretense?" But then, "Experts often have quirks. If he’s at home, waiting is fine."

---

The noblewoman behind Zhang Hua stamped her foot anxiously, "Sister Zhang, how long must we wait? Is this person trustworthy?"

Zhang Hua turned, took her hand, and reassured her patiently, "Don’t worry, we’re already here—what’s a little more time? Rest assured, Master Lin is a recluse and will surely help you. He solved several strange incidents at my home. If you don’t trust me, who can you trust?"

But the noblewoman was troubled, looking lost and forlorn, slumping onto the doorstep, her face drawn, "Sister Zhang, I’m desperate… If this so-called master can’t help, I really have nothing left to live for..."

She was a highly educated intellectual, and deep down, she didn’t believe in feng shui masters or fortune-tellers. But in desperate times, people do things even they don’t believe—perhaps seeking excuses for their mistakes, or a bit of psychological comfort, or simply refusing to accept reality, preferring to remain in their own fantasy...

After dealing with Zhang Hua and her companion, Lin Fan ran upstairs, seized the chance to kick Lin Hai’s ample rear as he snored, shouting, "Uncle! Business has arrived! Get up, your patron is here!"

Lin Hai, still smiling in his dreams, felt a sudden pain and rolled off the bed, baseball bat in hand.

"You little brat, never learn, do you? You just shattered my beautiful dream! I’ll go all out today—let’s see who wins!" Lin Hai brandished his bat, ready to charge.

Lin Fan immediately covered his head and shrieked, "Spare me! Uncle! Stop! Zhang Hua! Mrs. Zhang is here!"

The name Zhang Hua was like a pardon—Lin Hai dropped his bat, confirmed, "Who?"

"Zhang Hua—the one who called you a gangster, Zhang Yang’s mother," Lin Fan quipped.

"Nonsense! Get downstairs, lay out the altar, make it grand, redeem yourself! Or I’ll never let this go!"

Lin Hai gave Lin Fan his orders, then hurried to the bathroom, finally remembering Zhang Hua had called last night about visiting this morning. "Damn, this kid’s made me start forgetting things lately."

They split up to prepare.

Crash, bang... Lin Fan bustled between the storeroom and the living room, arranging various items, busy as could be.

After a flurry of activity, Lin Fan finished setting up, making the living room look like a grand sacrificial ceremony was about to take place.

Lin Hai, now properly dressed, emerged from the bathroom. "Goodness! Did you haul out everything from the storeroom?"

He looked closer and his temper flared, "Why did you bring out that rusty Buddha statue? Are you bored? That’s for when I go bald! Put it back—I’m still a Daoist!"

Lin Fan leaned smugly against the Buddha statue, but hearing Lin Hai’s scolding, he sheepishly carried it back.

"Be careful with it—that’s a relic I risked my life to steal! If you knock off any rust, I’ll kill you!"

Lin Hai inspected everything, satisfied, then pressed the TV remote. The screen showed the familiar image: a dignified Daoist, a vulgar, shameless couplet. Then he told Lin Fan to open the door.