A Prophet - Chapter 24 (Part 1)
Chapter 1 - The Apocryphal Masterpiece of the Mortal Realm: The Record of Confusion Dispelled by Yin and Yang
Grandfather risked his life to secure the Military Horse Treatise not to propagate the military horse swindles, but to completely destroy them—this was his ultimate purpose. The four secret manuals of the Jiangxiang Guild had plagued the world for far too long. The swindlers were tangible, while their deception was intangible. If one merely eradicated the network of swindlers, redemption would remain empty words on paper. Grandfather was determined to bring about a thorough and absolute termination.
At his core, he was a kind man, and from beginning to end, he wished to remain a kind man. Yet, fate had cast him in the role of a swindler. Great suffering and profound sorrow give rise to supreme wisdom; unless one drives oneself to the brink of madness, one cannot attain Buddhahood. He was more like an undercover agent of fate, plunging his kind heart into the depths of evil. Once he saw through sin and dried up the veneer of hypocrisy, wave after wave of spiritual enlightenment finally activated his innate goodness. He finally understood why he had come to this lifetime, and a powerful sense of mission drove him to lay down the final gambit of his life, regardless of the cost to himself.
When righteousness rises, evil also rears its head. Grandfather’s resolve to unify the Jiangxiang Guild at the cost of his life was seen through by Qin Baichuan, but Qin Baichuan only guessed the beginning and failed to foresee the end. He believed Grandfather merely wanted to become the supreme leader of the Jiangxiang Guild, craving greater wealth and renown. To his dying day, Qin Baichuan never imagined that Grandfather would ultimately strangle the Jiangxiang Guild with his own hands.
Following the deliberation meeting of the four branch halls, Qin Baichuan returned to Sichuan. Before long, he secretly made contact with Qian Yuelin, laying bare his thoughts with a single remark: "On the day Qian Ye was arrested by the Shanghai police, I suspect it was a setup orchestrated by Grandfather."
"A setup by Grandfather?" Qian Yuelin muttered, casually fondling the silver dollar Grandfather had gifted him.
"Indeed! Think carefully, Qian Ye, why did everything happen with such uncanny coincidence? Why was the blacklist demanded by the Military Statistics Bureau specifically named the 'Military Horse'? Why were you released the very moment you handed over the 'Military Horse'? The Eastern Branch has always looked down upon the Western and Northern Branches; why this time did they open their purse strings and spend a fortune to subsidize Qian Ye?"
Having recovered somewhat from his injuries, Qian Yuelin slowly cleared his head. He lowered his gaze in deep contemplation, then asked, "What is the Eastern Branch plotting?"
With a grave and solemn expression, Qin Baichuan replied, "First, they are playing a psychological card to win people over. Second, they are swindling the military horse techniques to strengthen their own power. In my view, he intends to swallow us whole!"
"Does he possess the strength to do such a thing?"
"Circumstances create heroes. Just because he didn't in the past does not mean he won't in the future. The Nationalists and Communists have already gone to war. Amidst the chaos, territorial fragmentation, and turf wars, no one can say what fate awaits the four branch halls."
Qian Yuelin nodded deeply.
Qin Baichuan continued, "Qian Ye, we cannot sit here and await our doom. The Northern and Western Branches must join forces. You must realize that the Eastern and Southern Branches have long been cut from the same cloth. We are not just fighting Grandfather; we are also facing Jiang Feiyan."
Rubbing the scars on his body, Qian Yuelin cursed fiercely, "Those bastards! Since the Eastern Branch shows no benevolence, we owe them no loyalty!"
From that moment on, Qian Yuelin and Qin Baichuan grew increasingly inseparable. They colluded in villainy and took desperate gambles. On the eve of the founding of the People's Republic of China, the two joined forces to orchestrate a scheme from within and without. They murdered Little Sixth, incited the Third Branch Leader to rebel, and nearly wiped out the Eastern Branch entirely. Fortunately, the internal strife of the Jiangxiang Guild followed the historical cyclical law that righteousness must ultimately triumph over evil. At the bloody cost of "inflicting one thousand casualties on the enemy while suffering eight hundred of one's own," Grandfather annihilated Qin Baichuan and Qian Yuelin. (For detailed accounts, see the first book in this series, I Am a Fortune Teller.)
Grandfather had finally unified the Jiangxiang Guild.
The corpses of his sworn brothers lay scattered across the four directions. The towering Jiangxiang Guild was left critically wounded. Things remained, but the people were gone; the twists and turns ran deep as nine-curving rivers. A century of grievances now stood alongside national mourning. Who could comprehend Grandfather's bitterness? Who could understand Grandfather's pain? And who knew that Grandfather’s heart was fundamentally good?
Over the span of three years, Grandfather had exhausted his mental energies, laying traps and schemes while facing mortal danger nine times out of ten. Amidst the years of campaigning across the east and west, he had also exerted every ounce of his effort to accomplish something else—spiritual redemption.
He exposed the tricks behind the four major swindling manuals of the Jiangxiang Guild one by one, and combining them with centuries of genuine and fraudulent fortune-telling arts, he wrote a deafening and mysterious cultural masterpiece: The Record of Confusion Dispelled by Yin and Yang.
Grandfather possessed neither the refined elegance of a literary scholar nor the extravagant aspiration to leave his name in the annals of history. He simply wanted to completely eradicate the Jiangxiang Guild, and to restore clarity and sobriety to the world. If swindling techniques were left to linger in this world, what good would it do even if every single disciple of the Jiangxiang Guild ended up behind bars?
For hundreds of years, the Jiangxiang Guild had roamed the imperial court and the countryside. Who could guarantee that their fraudulent methods had not been passed down to outsiders? Who could guarantee that scattered swindlers were not lurking in every corner of society? The sectarian struggles spanning the late Qing dynasty down to the Republican era had already proven that the deceptive techniques of the Jiangxiang Guild had long been eagerly emulated by fortune tellers large and small across the Jianghu rivers and lakes. The profession of fortune-telling had thus been transformed into a vat of moral corruption.
By this point, whether the art of fortune-telling was true or false no longer mattered. What if it were true? What if it were false? The ancients long ago stated, "Those who are truly skilled in the Book of Changes do not divine." Not a single fortune teller ever met a good end; the more one calculated one's fate, the thinner it became, bringing good to no one. In his book, Grandfather not only urged people to stop constantly seeking divinations, but earnestly advised all fortune tellers to wash their hands of the trade while they still could.
What kind of people went to fortune tellers? People with poor fates.
What kind of people were considered to have poor fates? As Yuan Shushan once stated, "First, those who have suffered a major trauma; second, those infatuated with fame and fortune; and third, those driven to desperate straits."
Suffering a major trauma referred to a sudden, catastrophic change in life that left a person unable to find release or make sense of things—such as the sudden violent death of a family member, betrayal by a lover, a sudden diagnosis of cancer, or a sudden stroke of extreme wealth followed by total ruin. Such intense emotional swings of great joy and profound sorrow often unhinged a person's psyche. Unable to console themselves, they turned to fortune tellers for answers.
Infatuation with fame and fortune was a common human affliction. Craving wealth, panting for official promotion, and obsessing over renown to the point of madness made people's thoughts stray into unorthodox and crooked paths, providing fortune tellers with a fertile ground to ply their trade.
Being driven to desperate straits was likewise a common human experience. Everyone encountered several major hurdles in life; those who endured them were heroes, while those who broke were failures. When a person was deeply mired in misfortune—when calling out to the heavens brought no response and pounding the earth yielded no echo—they thought of fortune telling. For instance, businessmen who lost their entire fortunes and drowned in debt, or corrupt officials whose misdeeds were exposed while their hearts fluttered with anxiety, would naturally turn to divination.
"Do humans have a predetermined fate? Of course we do; how else could we live? Do humans have a predetermined fate? No, everything is merely cause and effect."
In his book, Grandfather deeply analyzed the bizarre logic of fortune-telling alongside the karmic retribution of fate.
The phrases fortune tellers loved to utter most were:
"Heavenly secrets cannot be divulged."
"If it is meant to be in your fate, you will eventually have it; if it is not in your fate, do not force it."
"A virtuous person is naturally blessed by the heavens."
"You need to donate some incense money."
Whether genuine or fraudulent, fortune tellers were ultimately utterly helpless in the face of human destiny. One frequently heard people claim: "That fortune teller is remarkably accurate! He was able to calculate everything that happened to me in the past!" or "That grand master is simply divine; he deduced all three of my past romantic partners!"
Whenever he heard such remarks, Grandfather would chuckle: What good is calculating the past? Fortune-telling was never the goal; it was merely a means. Avoiding misfortune and seeking blessings was the true purpose. People sought divinations to make their lives better. Calculating an outcome without possessing the ability to change it was nothing more than pre-purchasing anxiety.
At this point, someone would invariably argue, "If he can calculate my past, he can calculate my future, and I can avoid whatever disasters lie ahead."
Grandfather would once again fall into a speechless silence. If avoiding disasters were that easy, humanity would have long achieved immortality. Was there any calamity more urgent to resolve than life and death? Surveying the fortune tellers and masters of the Book of Changes throughout the millennia, very few lived past the age of sixty; in fact, an unusually large number died violent or premature deaths.
That fortune tellers could never calculate their own life and death was an almost indisputable fact.
Furthermore, countless fortune tellers frequently made utter fools of themselves: Just as they finished lifting a curse for someone else, they would carelessly slip into a cesspit. After advising a client on how to select an auspicious plot of feng shui, their own home would catch fire upon their return. While instructing others on how to avert official punishment, they would inadvertently break the law themselves and land behind bars, wetting their pants in sheer terror. They exhorted others to steer clear of romantic temptations, only to take concubines themselves, eventually breeding a harem of jealous women that ruined their reputations. They cast spells to bring wealth to this person and riches to that, yet remained dirt poor themselves, frequently cursing and spitting over a few missing copper coins... Countless facts proved that fortune tellers were never capable of averting their own disasters; if they could not even master their own destinies, how could anyone expect them to dispel calamities for others?
Those with a shred of awakening would sometimes perplexedly ask a fortune teller: "Since the master is so formidable, why don't you cast a spell to bring yourself wealth and transform into a multi-millionaire? Then you wouldn't have to earn this exhausting fortune-telling money."
Fortune tellers usually replied with this excuse: "This is simply my fate. I lack that financial destiny, and no amount of spellcasting can summon it. I am destined to toil in the divination industry for the rest of my life."
This seemingly plausible retort actually exposed the fortune teller's inner defenses: When discussing someone else's destiny, they appeared supremely confident—talking of summoning wealth, altering fate, and adding years to one's life as if nothing lay beyond their reach. Yet when discussing their own destiny, they resigned themselves to fate with complete docility. Such logic was truly baffling.
Grandfather confessed that fortune tellers knew very well that what was meant to come would arrive regardless of attempts to block it, and what was not meant to be could not be forced through pleading. However, they exploited people's greed, anger, and ignorance, using various rhetoric and ploys to stimulate their desires for gain, ultimately pocketing their money under the guise of "averting disasters and resolving crises."
If they happened to succeed by sheer coincidence, they would strut about with smug triumph: "Am I not brilliant? There is no disaster I cannot resolve."
If they failed, they would simply shrug: "If it is meant to be in your fate, you will eventually have it; if it is not, do not force it. Man calculates, but Heaven decides."
With this, the bizarre logic of fortune-telling was finally laid bare: What was destined to be yours would come naturally; what was not could not be forced. Fortune tellers merely masqueraded as divine beings, playing the odds on a fifty-percent probability. In this sense, anyone could become a fortune teller.
To conceal this bizarre logic, fortune tellers went to great lengths, fabricating their own professional code known as the "Three Noes."
The "Three Noes" dictated that a fortune teller must never divine for the dead, for themselves, or for fellow practitioners.
At first glance, these three rules seemed quite reasonable—high-minded, dignified, and mysterious. But upon closer inspection, the deception became apparent.
Why not divine for the dead? Fortune tellers would claim, "Calculating for the dead is inauspicious." In truth, this was utter nonsense. Everyone who studied fortune-telling began by learning the birth characters of deceased individuals. Ancient and modern texts on divination were filled with the horoscopes of the dead, with the horoscopes of historical figures being the most detailed. The real reason fortune tellers refused to calculate for the dead was that people had previously used deceased subjects to make fools of them. For instance, to test a fortune teller's proficiency, someone would intentionally present the birth characters of a dead person. The fortune teller would deliberate and declare either that the subject was blessed with great fortune and would acquire vast wealth within three years, or that they would face a disaster the following year requiring ritual cleansing. When the client finally revealed, "Master, this person is already dead! They passed away just yesterday!" the revelation would leave the fortune teller choking on their words, unable to utter a single syllable. As such incidents multiplied, fortune tellers established the rule against divining for the dead.
Why not divine for oneself? Fortune tellers claimed that doing so would "shorten one's lifespan" or "divulge heavenly secrets." In reality, it had nothing to do with shortening one's life or leaking secrets; they were simply afraid of making fools of themselves. Once they mapped out their own destiny curve, others would watch them relentlessly to see if their lives unfolded according to their own predictions. Under such intense public scrutiny, any major misstep would brand them with eternal ridicule.
Why not divine for fellow practitioners? That was even easier to explain: they were all engaged in a tacitly understood trade where no one should provoke or antagonize anyone else, ensuring no grudges or enmities were formed.
In a word: all professional rules existed solely to cover up incompetence.
Grandfather knew well that calculating a person's destiny was not particularly difficult—it was merely the mutual interaction of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, a function possessed by all legitimate systems of divination. The true difficulty lay in altering fate. The greatness of the Book of Changes lay in pointing out the method to alter fate—by aligning with the Heavenly Dao.
What was the Heavenly Dao? It was the harmony of yin and yang, moderation in advancement and retreat, the accumulation of virtue through good deeds, and a return to pristine simplicity. Calculating a person's destiny was easy, but changing it was immensely difficult. Without personal self-cultivation and the accumulation of virtue, even immortals could not help you, let alone a mere fortune teller.
This was why the philosophy of the Book of Changes was universally accepted by Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. It was also why many scholars of the Changes eventually turned to the study of Buddhism.
Looking at those who made a career out of fortune-telling, they could be roughly divided into two categories.
The first category wanted to play the role of immortals—emulating Zhuge Liang or Liu Bowen to bring blessings to the mortal realm and guide the affairs of the nation. Such individuals had either read too many historical romance novels or listened to too many folk tales. The delusion of becoming a "transcendent worldly sage" took deep root in their hearts, leading them to view themselves as extraordinary beings often mistaking themselves for immortals.
The second category simply wanted to make money. They realized this industry required zero capital—relying entirely on a glib tongue. If successful, one could even win public respect and reap both fame and fortune. Why wouldn't they do it?
These two types of people inevitably drifted toward opposite extremes. The first group developed an absolute, fanatical belief in the magic of various divinatory arts, studying them with tireless devotion. Every time a prediction came true, they felt a wave of smug satisfaction, as if the fundamental truths of the universe rested in the palm of their hand. Yet good times never lasted; because they placed excessive faith in the power of numerology, they spiraled into a state of obsession. The various traditional methods of fortune-telling handed down through antiquity contained numerous flaws and deficiencies. Whenever a prediction missed the mark, these practitioners lost their appetite and peace of mind, plunging into utter confusion, torn between wanting to quit and feeling utterly lost.
Looking across the world at fortune tellers of this ilk, most were individuals past thirty who had achieved nothing in life. They fancied themselves privy to heavenly secrets and superior to others, stubbornly clinging to a so-called " Dao" and a tattered, bruised self-esteem. Watching ordinary people who knew nothing about fortune-telling build thriving careers, marry, raise families, and live in happiness, they would wonder in bewilderment: Where did we go wrong?
From this perspective, this category of fortune tellers were also victims of numerology. Their hearts were not inherently evil; they merely sought a truth, only to become trapped in a swamp of superstition.
The second group, motivated purely by the pursuit of wealth, grew bolder and more reckless amidst their greed. They started by swindling small sums, graduated to major fortunes, and eventually evolved into overnight "grand masters" or cult leaders with "disciples scattered across the land." But tall trees catch the wind, and fat pigs invite the butcher; those who commit numerous transgressions inevitably bring about their own destruction. Trapped in the wheel of karmic retribution, such individuals were destined to leave behind an infamy that would last for generations after their deaths.
Buddhist scriptures state:
All dharmas are empty, but karma is not.
Karmic retribution follows the doer like a shadow.
A person's destiny was inextricably linked to their deeds. On a grand scale, this encompassed the karma of three lifetimes; on a smaller scale, it manifested as retribution in the present life. Whether or not a person understood the Book of Changes, feng shui, or numerology had no bearing on the quality of their fate; supernatural powers and esoteric arts could never alter karma.
Did the Buddha's disciple, Maudgalyayana, lack supernatural powers? He possessed the highest divine powers, unmatched by anyone, yet he still had to submit to the laws of karma, sacrificing his life to uphold the Dharma and entering parinirvana as a testament to the truth that karma is inescapable.
Was Jiang Ziya not formidable? He pierced the mysteries of ten thousand years and passed down legendary military strategies to the world. Yet at critical junctures, he did not rely on divination. On the eve of King Wu's campaign against King Zhou of Shang, he ordered a diviner to cast a lot, which yielded the hexagram Pi—representing stagnation and supreme misfortune. Furthermore, torrential rain fell during the ritual, overturning the incense altar—both deeply inauspicious omens. While all his ministers argued that the campaign was doomed to fail, Jiang Ziya brushed aside all dissent and thundered: "The strength of the common people surpasses that of ghosts and gods!" In the end, King Wu achieved a resounding victory.
Was Zhuge Liang not formidable? Yet facing the inept Liu Shan whom he could not prop up, he had no choice but to "do what he knew was impossible," praying to the heavens to alter his fate. Ultimately, he could not defy karma, bringing his life to a desolate close at Wuzhang Plains and leaving behind an empty, heartbreaking sorrow before his expedition could succeed.
Was Shao Yong not formidable? His "Xiantian Bagua" theory continued to influence posterity down to the present day, and his masterwork, Supreme Principles of World Ordering, outlined three thousand six hundred years of human history. Yet in his later years, this pinnacle figure in the study of the Book of Changes told Sima Guang: "The pre-heaven learning is the human heart; all phenomena and all things are born from the heart!" He finally comprehended the sensation the Buddha felt beneath the Bodhi tree when he beheld the morning star and attained enlightenment: Form is no different from emptiness, emptiness no different from form; everything is created solely by the mind.
Supernatural powers and fortune-telling were merely superficial appearances; virtue and vice were the true roots of fortune and misfortune. Those with genuine spiritual powers could not resist karma, let alone pseudo-masters whose grand reputations vastly exceeded their actual worth.
"Saving a single life is more meritorious than building a seven-story pagoda; adjusting feng shui ten times is inferior to performing a single good deed. Rather than spending every day consumed by anxiety while divining and casting lots for fortunes, one is far better off engaging in self-reflection and sincere repentance. Today's moral cultivation determines future blessings or calamities—there is no other way. It is simply karma."
Grandfather offered these earnest, thousands-word admonitions with a heavy heart.
Having lingered in the fortune-telling trade for so many years, Grandfather always felt that ordinary people were far too kind, too gullible, and at times even rather foolish. People invariably believed that towering sages and mountain immortals existed in the world, convinced that a select group of individuals possessed infallible divinatory powers capable of achieving anything. Yet they failed to realize that anyone living in this world was made of flesh and blood, required food and drink, experienced aging, sickness, and death, and suffered from helplessness and fear. Ordinary people were too simple; clinging to their dreams of immortals, they passed them down from generation to generation, allowing themselves to be swindled generation after generation while happily rationalizing their delusions.
Grandfather understood that the art of fortune-telling had circulated for so long because it possessed a certain rationale. Its logic lay in the dialectic of the five elements, its value lay in helping people seek fortune and avoid misfortune, its flaw lay in robbing people of their agency, and its evil lay in turning numerology and metaphysics into superstitious tools that victimized generations of ordinary people.
Confucianism served as the outer facade, focusing on self-cultivation and family regulation; Daoism served as the spine, balancing non-action with action; Buddhism served as the heart, liberating oneself and saving others. The core philosophies of the three pillars of traditional Chinese learning all emphasized personal self-cultivation and spiritual realms. Only fortune tellers encouraged people to surrender their lives to fate and ghosts. Prominent figures across various fields throughout history universally praised Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, yet not a single one ever endorsed fortune-telling. Only a pack of rural charlatans lurked in the shadows, shouting frantically and blowing the art of divination out of proportion. Right and wrong, superior and inferior, were instantly clear.
Grandfather lamented repeatedly in his book: People begged fortune tellers to help them, but who could have imagined that the fortune tellers themselves lived in daily terror? As people clutched the golden words bestowed upon them by fortune tellers as if they were rare treasures, did they ever realize that those same fortune tellers were hiding behind closed doors, stuffing themselves with cold sacrificial pork?
The Buddhist phrase "If a person does not work for themselves, heaven and earth will destroy them" had been perverted by fortune tellers. The word for "work" in this context should be pronounced with the rising tone, meaning self-cultivation and moral refinement. The original meaning of the saying was: If a person fails to cultivate their moral conduct and improve their self-discipline, the heavens themselves will destroy them. Yet malicious individuals completely inverted its meaning into a selfish oath of putting oneself above all others.
The emergence of Grandfather in the Jiangxiang Guild was the fortune of the guild itself, and indeed the fortune of history. Who could understand the fortune-telling trade better than he? Was there any trick he was unaware of? Was there any bizarre logic he could not untangle? Cutting off one's arm to save the whole body—all for the sake of dispelling confusion. For a true man to act thus could truly be called magnanimous.
This was destined to be a monumental masterpiece of the Chinese academic world that comprehensively reflected upon and critiqued the art of Chinese fortune-telling. I do not know how many sleepless nights Grandfather spent writing this book, weighing every word with painstaking care. Perhaps when a person was possessed by a conviction, they ceased to fear death or fatigue, and a powerful sense of mission urged them ever onward. As he put down his brush, Grandfather titled the book The Record of Confusion Dispelled by Yin and Yang.
Like Grandfather’s own destiny, this book was destined to be mysterious and full of ups and downs. Grandfather did not reveal its contents to his sworn brothers at the time; after surviving numerous catastrophes, the book finally saw the light of day following the Cultural Revolution...
In 1948, I entered the Jiangxiang Guild. That was precisely the moment when the entire faction was teetering in the wind and rain.
Throughout the night, Grandfather wrote and revised unceasingly. His brothers assumed he was calculating the guild's expenses and revenues or studying new methods of performing paper-effigy scams.
While Grandfather furiously wielded his brush, his brothers were not idle either. Aside from divining and drawing lots every day, whenever they had spare time, they picked up books to read. Swindlers had to learn to utilize their leisure time to replenish their energy—not only mastering the Yingyao techniques of psychological reading, but also studying the Yin and Yang five elements, and even delving into the writings of the hundred schools of thought. In this trade, the more learned one was, the more one projected the aura of a grand master.
Even the illiterate Second Branch Leader attempted to display a scholarly demeanor. Clutching a copy of Strange Tales of the Spring Palace, he scratched his head from time to time and asked the Sixth Branch Leader, "What do the characters beneath this picture mean?"
Chuckling, the Sixth Branch Leader replied, "Second Brother, you'd better not read books with words; it strains the mind."
"You stinking Sixth!" cursed the Second Branch Leader, marching straight over to the Fourth Branch Leader instead. Zhang Zizhan's melancholic expression immediately made the Second Branch Leader realize he had asked the wrong person, so he pivoted toward the Third Branch Leader: "Thirdie, what is written under this picture?"
The Third Branch Leader glanced at it, smiled faintly, and replied in an affected, coquettish tone: "It says, 'Second Master, come quickly, this little one can't wait any longer!'"
"Hahahaha! Makes sense!" The Second Branch Leader was as happy as a donkey shaking its head and wagging its tail.
"Thirdie, what kind of book are you reading?" the Second Branch Leader asked, eyeing the volume in the Third Branch Leader's hand.
"Physiognomy, used for sizing up people."
"Sizing up cheap people? A whorehouse book? Which brothel did you steal it from?" the Second Branch Leader pressed.
The Third Branch Leader wore a look of utter helplessness: "Second Brother, truly, your lack of intelligence has reached its peak!"
"What did you say? What did you say?" The Second Branch Leader was utterly confused.
"He's calling you an idiot," the Fourth Branch Leader chimed in.
"Bastard!" The Second Branch Leader lunged at the Third Branch Leader, who slipped away with a laugh like a wisp of smoke.
As a newcomer, I did not dare to interrupt casually and could only giggle in secret. But even this chuckle was spotted by the Second Branch Leader.
"What are you grinning about, you big-headed kid?"
My face flushed, and I did not know how to respond.
"What are you afraid of? If you want to laugh, just laugh out loud!" The Second Branch Leader patted my head.
"Right, hehe, hahahaha," I burst out laughing.
"Hhahahaha..." Everyone joined in the laughter.
Little did I know that this joyous camaraderie among brothers was already a thing of the past, and a major catastrophe was slowly closing in upon us.
A few months later, the Sixth Branch Leader was poisoned to death by Qian Yuelin, the Third Branch Leader and others revolted, and Grandfather launched a bloody massacre. After driving Qian Yuelin to his death and waging a fierce battle against Qin Baichuan, following a life-or-death struggle, Grandfather stood drenched in blood atop the summit of Jiangxiang.
Thus, Grandfather completed his years in the Republican era, and hundreds of brothers across the four branch halls stepped alongside him into the new era of the People's Republic of China.