Chapter 47: The Bearing of a Dragon and a Phoenix

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Meng Fan followed Liao Zhong to the reception hall, where two groups had arranged themselves on opposite sides, leaving the central seat empty. On one side stood a scion of the Gao family, one of the four great clans in the supernatural realm; on the other was Master Jiekong, one of the Ten Elders.

Unlike the serene and composed Master Jiekong, the Gao family members appeared uneasy. From the moment he laid eyes on Master Jiekong, Meng Fan sensed that trouble was imminent, and he felt a pang of guilt.

Curious, Meng Fan studied the legendary monk. His face was deeply aged, with large earlobes, long, drooping eyebrows, and pronounced eye bags. Yet, between his brows was an aura of solemnity and compassion—clearly the presence of a virtuous elder monk.

Following Meng Fan’s gaze, Master Jiekong opened his cloudy eyes and, upon first sight of Meng Fan’s features, furrowed his brow slightly, murmuring to himself, “Strange... could my eyesight be failing? To see such a visage at this hour?”

He moved closer to examine Meng Fan more carefully, sighing repeatedly, “Curious, most curious!”

“Master Jiekong!” Meng Fan softly spoke. “Is there something wrong with my appearance?”

The monk shook his head. “Not wrong, but rather too good. Though my cultivation is gone, I studied physiognomy under my master for years in my youth. My eyesight may be dim now, but not so much as to make such a glaring error.”

Liao Zhong scratched his head respectfully, “Master Jiekong, isn’t a good appearance a blessing?”

Master Jiekong glanced at him and explained, “A good visage naturally indicates deep blessings, but this young friend’s face is extraordinarily blessed—so much so that it should not appear at this time.”

“Extraordinarily blessed?”

Liao Zhong scrutinized Meng Fan but saw nothing unusual; just a handsome young man, admittedly better looking than himself by a tiny margin.

Master Jiekong nodded gravely and said to Meng Fan, “A dragon and phoenix countenance, sun and sky manifest, this one destined to achieve great crowns in his years. He shall surely bring peace to the world, a noble beyond words!”

The “dragon and phoenix countenance” refers to the “Golden Water Formation,” marked by a jade-white complexion and delicate, handsome features.

The “sun and sky manifest” combines the heavenly and solar marks—referring to a smooth, rounded forehead with a circular imprint at its center, symbolizing great nobility.

Finally, Master Jiekong declared, “Seeing you is like beholding a young dragon, hidden beneath the depths, awaiting the day to soar skyward!”

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Upon hearing this, Meng Fan’s heart trembled briefly before he laughed it off, “Master, you flatter me. I merely have a good appearance.”

Yet inwardly, he marveled at the old monk’s insight, recognizing the depth of his roots at a glance.

Master Jiekong looked at him deeply, smiling warmly, “I have yet to ask your name?”

“Meng, Meng Fan,” he replied.

The monk frowned, “That’s odd. You should not bear the surname Meng, but rather Li. I recall an ancient scroll in Shaolin depicting the thirteen-stick monks saving Emperor Tang, treasured for generations.”

“Your features bear a seven-point resemblance, and coupled with the dragon markings upon you…”

“Amitabha, forgive me for misspeaking!” The monk suddenly seemed to realize something and ceased speaking, chanting a Buddhist apology.

“My young friend, when the time is ripe, you should visit Shaolin Temple. There is a fate awaiting you there.”

Meng Fan nodded. The destiny the monk spoke of likely tied to Emperor Tang Li Shimin, so the guidance made sense—it explained how he recognized his identity.

Whether by coincidence or true skill, it was undeniable.

In the Battle of Hulao Pass, Li Shimin personally led 3,500 elite armored soldiers to break through Dou Jiande’s forces of 100,000—an almost inhuman feat.

Li Shimin was likely a supernatural being as well, one who had mastered the art of military strategy. Historically, no one surpassed Li Shimin in military prowess except perhaps Zhu Yuanzhang.

Meng Fan folded his hands in a Buddhist salute and said, “When time allows, I shall surely visit.”

Liao Zhong was puzzled. Could it be that Meng Fan truly bore the surname Li?

He knew Meng Fan had been adopted by Old Meng, and that Old Meng had tasked him with finding Meng Fan’s biological parents, but after many years, no trace had been found.

Liao Zhong looked at Meng Fan curiously, ruffling his head and sighing. Though there was a clue, finding Meng Fan’s birth parents after so long was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Little did he know, Meng Fan’s parents did not exist in this world at all.

At that moment, Master Jiekong returned to his serene composure, sitting back and nodding off as if about to fall asleep.

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Behind Master Jiekong stood a burly martial monk, Dharma name Baowen.

Opposite them was Gao Yi, a member of the Gao family, of the same generation as Gao Lian. The Gao clan’s eighth generation ranked by virtue placed Gao Yi as Gao Lian’s elder cousin.

Liao Zhong sat in the main seat while Meng Fan listened quietly beside him.

“Ahem, let us begin!” Liao Zhong cleared his throat.

“We all know why the two parties are here, so there’s no need for preamble. Let’s speak plainly.”

“This white elephant was captured—or rather, procured—with great hardship by our ‘Anywhere Pass’ operatives. What price can both parties offer?”

He glanced toward both sides.

Gao Yi spoke first, “The company is surely aware that our ‘Outsider Immortals’ rarely leave the Shanhaiguan Pass. Our presence here reflects great sincerity.”

“For this white elephant, the Gao family offers a ginseng root aged 836 years, to bring it to the Northeast.”

Upon hearing this, Master Jiekong merely lifted his eyes and said, “The company may send three disciples to my Lingyin Temple to train in martial arts as lay followers, as a gift of inheritance.”

Both offers were neither high nor low, fitting squarely within Liao Zhong’s expectations. For a moment, he hesitated, then turned to Meng Fan.

Meng Fan lowered his head, pondering.

There is a saying: seven taels make ginseng, eight taels make a treasure. Wild ginseng that has grown a hundred years may weigh seven to eight taels. An 836-year-old ginseng is an extraordinary elixir, likely found only in the collection of immortals.

Similarly, it is a life-saving divine medicine.

The Buddhist side’s terms fit their usual style: the Buddhist sect often welcomes disciples broadly, and there is the saying that all martial arts in the world come from Shaolin.

Inheritance alone—just one written scroll—would be enough. Not only do they gain three talented lay disciples but also valuable connections for the company.

As the saying goes, the older the person, the craftier the mind; the older the spirit, the sharper the wit. Master Jiekong’s mental abacus was almost bursting at his face.