Chapter 39

"Qin Feng, go and bring that recliner over, let's have a chat, you and I!"

After walking around the village, Zai Shi's spirit seemed to have lifted, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, his face flushed, and his voice became a bit louder.

Qin Feng shook his head and said, "Master, you just started sweating, you can't catch a breeze. Let's go inside and sit down!"

Although the wind wasn't very strong today and the weather was much warmer than the previous few days, Qin Feng still didn't dare to joke around with his master's health. He supported Zai Shi and was about to head inside.

"It's fine, listen to your master, go and bring it. Otherwise, the old man will just stand here and talk to you."

Zai Shi stood there motionless. Qin Feng knew that once the old man said something, no one could persuade him otherwise. He could only reluctantly go inside and bring out the large recliner.

However, in addition to padding the recliner with a cushion, Qin Feng also covered Zai Shi with two thick blankets, leaving only his face exposed.

"I can smell the scent of spring!"

Zai Shi sniffed hard, suddenly remembering something, and cursed, "That damn Yuan Shikai, with one word, he made me lose a year of my life. Otherwise, I would have made it through this year!"

The old man's voice was muffled with phlegm, and Qin Feng didn't hear clearly. He asked, "Master, what did you say?"

"Nothing, the old man is just content."

Zai Shi turned his face to look at Qin Feng and said, "It's just a pity that the gambling techniques of the Qian School didn't pass down through me, and there are a few other schools that I didn't fully learn!"

At this point, Zai Shi's face suddenly showed a proud smile, and he said, "Qin Feng, the Dao School is the one I passed down most completely. The Qian School lost half of its techniques, and I taught you all the skills of the Assassin School.

The Gu School and the spirit medium techniques, it's better not to learn them. Even within their own schools, I doubt much of the tradition remains.

As for the Mechanism School, some people hid in the Ming Dynasty's Divine Machine Camp, and the tradition was relatively well-preserved. But now, not many people learn those things, and I don't know if they have been lost.

Hehe, those acrobatics and women's skills, your master never learned them. But with the four schools I taught you, it's enough for you to make your way in the world!"

"Master, why didn't the ancestors write down these traditions? A good memory is no match for a written record!"

Qin Feng looked at the old man with some curiosity. When Zai Shi taught him, it was all oral, and he wasn't allowed to write it down. If it weren't for Qin Feng's exceptional memory, he wouldn't have been able to remember so much. So he had always harbored this question.

"The ancestors' rules can't be changed by me."

Zai Shi shook his head and said, "Not just our lineage, but those who practice martial arts have lost even more traditions. The skills that remain now are only a fraction of what used to be."

The ancients were always quite conservative. The more precious something was, the more they kept it hidden. Skills passed down through generations were often transmitted orally, and only to sons, not daughters, and to disciples, not sons-in-law.

This certainly helped keep things secret, but when things are passed down orally, generation after generation, there are bound to be some mistakes or errors. This led to some skills becoming distorted or even lost entirely.

Take martial arts, for example. In ancient times, those heroes who could pass through five gates and slay six generals, and who could take the head of a general from an army of a million as easily as picking something from a pocket, while such descriptions might be exaggerated, according to some historical records, those generals could fight against a hundred or two hundred people without much trouble.

But in modern times, which great martial artist would dare to claim they could fight a hundred people? Not to mention a thousand soldiers. Even masters like Dong Haichuan and Li Shuwen, if surrounded by a hundred people with knives, would likely be cut to pieces.

Of course, Zai Shi didn't say this, but the reason for all this was largely due to his ancestors. When the Qing court entered the pass, they were just as ruthless towards martial artists as Zhu Yuanzhang. They killed so many people that they almost wiped out the Shaolin Temple and Wudang Mountain.

So, in Zai Shi's view, not much of the ancient traditions remained. He took Qin Feng as a disciple to pass down more of these skills, even if they were not considered high art.

"Master, you've said all this before. Don't exhaust yourself, have a bowl of chicken soup!"

Qin Feng listened to the old man's words, but he was still worried about his master's health. Smelling the aroma from the kitchen, he quickly ran over and brought out a steaming bowl of chicken soup.

"Alright, I'll drink it!"

Zai Shi sat up half and drank the bowl of chicken soup, which was floating with oil. He laughed loudly, "I never thought that in my old age, I, Aisin Gioro Zai Shi, would have such an excellent disciple. What more could I ask for!"

"Master, what are you doing? Lie down quickly!"

At this moment, a ray of sunlight appeared on the horizon, illuminating the old man's face. But when Qin Feng saw his master's face clearly, his heart couldn't help but skip a beat, and he quickly made Zai Shi lie down.

Zai Shi was skilled in physiognomy, and Qin Feng had naturally learned this skill from him. This was why Qin Feng's face changed so dramatically, because he saw the dead gray on his master's forehead.

Physiognomy is not just about predicting a person's fate through their facial features; it also involves some principles of traditional Chinese medicine. A true master of physiognomy is often also a skilled traditional Chinese medicine practitioner.

In traditional Chinese medicine, the five colors—green, yellow, white, gray, and black—on a patient's face can indicate the health of the liver, heart, spleen, lungs, and kidneys, respectively.

For example, a bright black color on the forehead is often considered a very bad omen by physiognomists. In fact, the forehead represents the lungs, and black indicates kidney problems, suggesting that kidney disease has begun to affect the lungs.

The lungs control breathing, and the kidneys control the intake of qi. If both the lungs and kidneys are diseased, it can lead to qi deficiency, coughing, and shortness of breath. In traditional Chinese medicine, a black forehead is a dangerous sign, but it doesn't necessarily mean death.

So, the ominous predictions made by unscrupulous physiognomists are often just to scare people and extort money. Over time, people have come to believe that a black forehead means an incurable disease.

In reality, if the black color is bright and lustrous, the illness is not very serious. But if the color is dull and lifeless, like ashes, that is truly fatal.

Qin Feng had seen this before. When Old Liu was on his deathbed, his forehead showed the same symptoms as Zai Shi's now.

"Ma... Master, what... what is this?" Qin Feng's voice trembled, and the bowl of soup in his hand fell to the ground with a "clatter."

"Oh, what's this? Year after year, peace and safety, piece by piece, peace and safety!"

The women in the kitchen heard the noise and quickly said some auspicious words, but no matter how much they smiled, they couldn't hide the sadness on Qin Feng's face.

PS: I'm attending an event in Beijing and can only write in the hotel at night. Please give me more recommendation votes to support me!

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