“How could this fortune slip be changed now? What’s its hidden meaning?” Feng Shoucheng asked again.

“The Haoyu Group has grown lush and deep-rooted. It’s a towering tree, always riding the waves at the forefront. Bringing it down isn’t something that can be done easily. But no matter how big the group gets, it’s not really yours. If calamity is destined for you, Haoyu will remain Haoyu—it just won’t be your Feng family’s Haoyu anymore. Since ancient times, the world has always remained the world, and dynasties are still dynasties, but who holds the reins—that’s a different story.” The old man replied.

“Seems like my trouble isn’t small,” Feng Shoucheng sneered coldly. “There must be some clues to foresee this—natural disaster or man-made catastrophe?”

“Whether it’s natural or man-made, I can’t say. But within those two lines of verse, there is a crucial character. Follow that key word, and you might find a way to break through. If you can, then smooth sailing awaits you, and you’ll enjoy another ten prosperous years,” the old man said again.

“And after those ten years? What then?” Feng Shoucheng asked. “Is there no way to make it permanent?”

“Permanent? That’s wishful thinking. All things in the world go through formation, stasis, decline, and emptiness—even immortals face the Five Decays of Heaven. Dynasties change every three hundred years. And you? You think you’re an exception? The way of the heavens is full of calamities. It’s like rowing against the current—if you don’t advance, you fall behind. But ten years from now, it won’t be your concern anymore. It’ll depend on whether your son can maintain the legacy and carry it forward.” The old man smirked. “Your three sons all have extremely potent destinies. Your eldest, Feng Yuxuan, embodies the sign of the Taotie—greedy and insatiable. Your second, Feng Qianzang, is of the Pixiu—gathering wealth, never letting it go. Your third, Feng Hengyi, is of the Yazi—ferocious and vengeful. All are ancient fierce beasts, powerful and greedy for treasure. They’ll grow your family’s fortune and fortune energy, but among such beasts, there’s bound to be bloodshed, feuds, and karmic consequences. It’s up to you to keep it all in check.”

“I understand,” Feng Shoucheng said. “Then explain the verse on the fortune slip.”

The old man pondered a long while before speaking. “It goes: When fortune rises, heaven and earth lend strength; when luck departs, heroes lose their freedom. Two characters here are key. The first line is ‘strength’—with it, you can rise with the tide. Without it, you can only hibernate and wait.”

Feng Shoucheng nodded upon hearing this.

“As for the second line—‘when luck departs, heroes lose their freedom’—the key is the word depart. Why do heroes lose their freedom? Because the strength that once raised them is now gone,” the old man said. “Now, combine the character for depart (去) with strength (力)—what do you get?”

‘Calamity!’ Feng Shoucheng suddenly exclaimed. “The character for calamity!”

“Exactly. Remove strength, and you have calamity. As long as you eliminate that calamity, the good fortune remains yours,” said the old man. “Remember—those two lines revolve around the word calamity. Neutralize it, and all will be well.”

“Neutralize this calamity…” Feng Shoucheng fell into thought. “Where is it? Is it a person, an event, or something else? Any further clues?”

“Heaven’s secrets are hard to glimpse. Not even sages can know it all. This divination has already reached its limit. Anything more depends on your own wisdom. Without it—well, then your calamity is unavoidable,” the old man said. “But I’ll help you as best I can. After all, your family’s rise or fall is tied to mine now.”

“That’s good to hear.” Feng Shoucheng thought for a moment, then suddenly said, “They say revealing too much of heaven’s secrets brings retribution. Yet here you are—doing just fine, surrounded by children and grandchildren. Not a care in the world.”

“My children were born overseas, and they’re all living abroad now,” the old man said with a strange expression. “There’s no karma or retribution abroad.”

Feng Shoucheng frowned. “Is that really a thing?”

“One land, one way. One soil, one god,” the old man replied.

*****

At home.

Su Jie was fiddling with the brick-thick tablet his older sister, Su Muchen, had given him, launching the combat simulation module.

The startup screen immediately displayed two figures—himself, and Liu Long, the current national champion and top-ranked fighter in the country.

“Start match.” Su Jie tapped the screen.

The two characters entered the ring and began their bout.

Su Jie launched an attack on Liu Long, using a technique resembling a hoe pick—diving forward repeatedly in a flurry of strikes.

Liu Long dodged continuously, using leg techniques to counter Su Jie’s offensive.

The two tangled for about thirty seconds before Liu Long suddenly turned the tables. He unleashed his signature Liu-style rapid kicks. His legs crisscrossed, the kicks not high but lightning-fast—like galloping hooves—targeting areas below the knees. His upper body, meanwhile, was full of feints to throw his opponent off.

Wham!

Su Jie was struck and hit the ground.

“This simulation doesn’t reflect my full ability,” Su Jie muttered. “I’d say it’s no more than 60% accurate—definitely not 80.”

He uploaded a large amount of his own training videos into the tablet, which also downloaded tons of Liu Long’s footage from the internet. Using this data, it built character modules and simulated fights. The more video he uploaded, the richer the data, and the more realistic the simulation became.

Over the past few days, Su Jie had been studying the AI module in the tablet. He found its function somewhat limited—it mainly helped analyze an opponent’s style and offered training feedback. For example, if you uploaded a video of your own training, the AI would analyze whether your posture was correct, identify errors, and then display an avatar that mimicked you doing the same movements.

But Su Jie’s techniques were always spot-on.

Still, the tablet had its advantages. It allowed him to build a personal fighting module and simulate matches against various martial artists to better understand their fighting styles.

For example, Su Jie had just faced off against Liu Long in a simulation and lost to his signature “Liu-style fast kicks.” If that had been a real match, he wouldn’t have been a match for Liu Long either.

Although Su Jie had defeated Zhou Chun and his external hardening technique was now at a high level, his experience was still shallow. There was a significant gap between him and the top fighters in the country—one that could only be closed with time, even with training from the “God Maker” Odell.

Odell had once spent three years turning an ordinary young man into a world champion in mixed martial arts. That young man was now the fighting king, “Ryan.”

In contrast, Su Jie had only received a month of training from Odell.

“This AI training tool my sister gave me is just okay—maybe it’s a hardware issue, or maybe the technology hasn’t broken through yet.” Su Jie set the tablet down, knowing it wasn’t going to be much more help to him.

He wondered just how powerful the AI training systems at the Typhon Training Camp might be.

Either way, the AI module in his hands was far inferior to Odell’s.

And if Odell—renowned as the “God Maker”—were actually worse than this janky AI module, the title would be meaningless.

Clang!

Just as Su Jie was thinking about how he’d handle a real fight with Liu Long, his father, Su Shilin, came home.

“Your homeroom teacher Chen Juan called yesterday. Said you took a month off and still got first place on the monthly exam. Not bad, kid. Last time you went off to the martial arts school, you were gone for two months. This time you disappear for a month without saying a word—what the hell were you doing?” Su Shilin flopped onto the couch, about to light a cigarette, but changed his mind and put it back.

“I was studying psychology with someone called Master Ma. Stayed at his house for a month. Also trained a bit with Master Chen from the Hunyuan Tai Chi Hall near the park,” Su Jie replied. “Dad, how come you still can’t quit smoking? Didn’t you promise Mom you would?”

“Didn’t I ‘not’ light up just now? You brat, are you lecturing your old man?” Su Shilin raised his voice, then suddenly seemed to remember something. “Ma? Ma Nianfeng? That guy’s no joke. Most people can’t even get a glimpse of him, and you stayed at his house for a month?”

“You know Master Ma?” Su Jie was surprised.

“Our company’s boss had a groundbreaking ceremony for a real estate project. We begged and pleaded, and he finally showed up—just walked around the foundation once. I was in charge of security that day,” Su Shilin said. “The setup was insane. But he’s the real deal. In the circles of big-time entrepreneurs, he’s treated like a god. A lot of powerful people follow his every word. Even celebrities can’t get close to him.”

“By the way, Dad—do you know Zhang Hongqing?” Su Jie suddenly asked.

“Zhang Hongqing? How do you know that name?” At the mention of it, Su Shilin frowned deeply.

These past few days, Zhang Manman had repeatedly invited Su Jie to join her startup company, but he hadn’t given her an answer yet—he was still thinking it over.

Zhang Hongqing was Zhang Manman’s father. It was obvious that both Master Ma and Uncle Mang from Heart-Cleansing Manor showed her great respect because of her father. That alone proved he was no ordinary man. But that wasn’t all—Master Ma had said that this man’s cultivation had reached the level of a “Living Dead,” putting him on par with someone like Odell.

Naturally, Su Jie was intrigued.

“You know him, Dad?” Su Jie suspected his father had a complicated past.

“Heard of him, never met him. Supposedly a big shot in some overseas syndicate. I remember hearing his name back when I was working in a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown overseas,” Su Shilin waved it off. “I don’t care who you socialize with, just make sure you know right from wrong. Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

“Dad, how’s your martial arts? Want to spar a bit?” Su Jie suddenly had an idea and smiled.

“You little punk,” Su Shilin snapped. “Grew some wings, huh? Learned a few moves and now you think you’re hot stuff? Want to go toe-to-toe with your old man? I oughta knock some sense into you.”

As he cursed, Su Shilin pulled out the stun baton he always carried as a security guard.

“Whoa, Dad—why are you still using that thing?” Su Jie quickly backed off.

“You think street fights follow rules?” Su Shilin activated the baton, and it crackled with intimidating sparks.

Although Su Jie had been electrocuted plenty of times by Uncle Mang during his training, those were low-voltage currents designed to stimulate cell recovery—precisely controlled by a medical-grade AI system for accuracy and safety.

This stun baton, on the other hand, was purely a tool for subduing criminals.

Su Jie wasn’t actually afraid, but he stood up anyway: “Alright, Dad, you do your thing. I’m heading out for a bit.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep