Fu Ji, an ancient method of divination in Dragon Country, was similar to the popular Ouija board or spirit writing games of modern times. However, it was not something anyone could perform; it required seasoned professionals with sufficient cultivation. Otherwise, the divination pen would be unable to transmit meaningful information through writing, and there was a risk of evil spirits possessing the user, leading to lifelong misfortune.
Drip, drip…
The divination pen, dropped by the Daoist, spun rapidly on the ground like a top, soon digging a shallow indentation. It then stood firm in the pit as if rooted, unmoving against any external force. When the diviner asked a question, however, the pen would tilt to varying degrees. Even with great force, it would be impossible to stop its movement. But this was merely a rudimentary method of Fu Ji. As a master of the Tian Ji Sect, the Daoist would not employ such a basic technique that yielded only ambiguous answers. He desired detailed answers, comprehensive enough to convince Ying Chen completely.
"Do you know? There are two things most difficult to divine through Fu Ji," the Daoist said casually, as if imparting knowledge to Ying Chen, while continuously drawing runes around the pen. These runes interlinked, forming a grand formation that subtly resonated with the pen. "One is destiny, the other is lifespan. Destiny involves the principles of the universe's operation. Even the divine spirits dare not speak carelessly of it, lest they suffer backlash from heaven and earth. As for lifespan, it is also a part of destiny. If destiny does not decree death, life will not cease. If destiny dictates demise, no matter what, life cannot escape. Furthermore, lifespan is influenced by human hearts, making it even more unpredictable. Thus, divine spirits occasionally err when predicting lifespan."
"For example, 'Anecdotes from the Thatched Hut for Observing the Unusual' records such a story," the Daoist continued. "It speaks of an official during the late Ming Dynasty who divined for his lifespan. The divine spirit predicted his death on a certain year, month, and day. Years passed, and when the prophesied day arrived, the official was still alive. Not only did he survive, but he rose through the ranks, eventually becoming a high official, enjoying great prosperity. He scoffed at the divination, deeming it false. Later, during a divination session with a colleague, he jokingly asked why the divine spirit's prophecy about him had been inaccurate. The spirit replied: 'You have lived your life with loyalty and filial piety. During the Jia Shen rebellion, you survived. What concern is it of mine?' The official's face turned red, and he hastily withdrew. You see, the day the divine spirit predicted his death was the very day Emperor Chongzhen hanged himself. The official, known for his loyalty and integrity, should have followed his sovereign in death, like other officials. Unexpectedly, he defected, escaping this fate. What does this signify? It signifies that even immortals cannot fathom the human heart!"
As the Daoist finished his story, his hands completed the rune formation. "Done!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. He then pointed at the divination pen. "Pen, pen, someone here looks down on our skills. You must prove yourself!"
"I ask, pen – what is this person's name and where do they live!"
Sssshhhh…
The previously stationary pen suddenly began to spin, its movements like flying dragons and dancing snakes, tracing peculiar curves on the ground.
"It's starting, don't rush. Your identity will be revealed soon!" the Daoist said with confidence, glancing at Ying Chen.
However, a second passed, then another, then ten seconds… A fine layer of sweat broke out on the Daoist's forehead. The curves traced by the pen were utterly meaningless, devoid of any decipherable information.
"What's happening?" the Daoist muttered, disbelief etched on his face. "Why can't I divine it?"
"I refuse to believe it!" Gritting his teeth, the Daoist bit his index finger. A drop of blood fell onto the divination pen, causing it to tremble violently. In the next moment, the pen spun wildly on the ground as if out of control, leaving behind obscure symbols. Seeing these, the Daoist's face lit up. "Got it, got it! There's actual information!"
But his joy was short-lived. The symbols, barely two in number, abruptly ceased. The pen's tracing once again became a chaotic jumble of meaningless lines.
"What is going on! What is happening!" the Daoist shouted, growing frustrated. Ying Chen, meanwhile, watched silently.
The Daoist's growing exasperation fueled his determination. After a moment of hesitation, he stood up, formed seals with his hands, and stamped his foot. Muttering incantations, he then spewed a mouthful of blood, which landed precisely within the rune formation. The formation suddenly flared with intense light, as if coming alive, emitting a vast and mysterious power. Empowered by this force, the divination pen's erratic movements stabilized. It stopped its wild scribbling and settled on the ground, immobile like a meditating monk.
"Open the divination!" the Daoist commanded, his eyes blazing. The pen seemed to connect with him, trembling when his finger twitched. Soon, several crooked, indecipherable curves appeared in the center of the formation.
The Daoist stared, taken aback. "Ying? Your surname is Ying?"
Ying Chen, who had been observing, showed a hint of surprise. He raised an eyebrow. "You have some skill to divine my surname. But… that is your limit. As you said yourself, destiny is the most unpredictable aspect of Fu Ji. My existence is a form of destiny. If you persist, you may not need me to act; you will die here on your own."
A mocking smile flickered across the Daoist's face. "What, are you afraid? Afraid I will win against you?" he sneered. "You don't want me to divine, but I insist!"
"I must know your origins!" With that, the Daoist spat out another mouthful of blood. These two sips of vital blood turned the divination pen a vibrant red, like jade. It sank deeper into the ground, and the curves it etched transformed into deep furrows, resembling pythons slithering across the earth.
"Your name is…" The Daoist's eyes were fixed on the curves. If the pen could just draw one more line, he would have his answer, Ying Chen's name. But just as the pen was about to complete the final curve, it shattered with a crack! The entire pen seemed to be struck by an invisible force, breaking into countless fragments. The rune formation exploded with a deafening roar, igniting the ground with flames.
*Plop!*
The Daoist, connected to the pen, fared no better. He collapsed onto the ground, vomiting a large amount of dark, black blood. His face instantly turned ashen, his breathing ragged and difficult.
"How could this be?" he stammered, his voice filled with disbelief, shock, and terror. He had never witnessed such a phenomenon, nor heard of it. He vaguely recalled accounts in ancient texts stating that those who perform Fu Ji must not rashly divine the Yin and Yang, lest they invite fire and suffer backlash. The scene before him mirrored these ancient warnings exactly.
"Could it be… you truly possess a destiny that cannot be divined?" the Daoist asked Ying Chen, doubt in his eyes.
Ying Chen let out a cold laugh. "I warned you long ago. If you wouldn't listen, there's nothing I can do. Two thousand years ago, I sealed my heart and destiny, detached from the cycle of Yin and Yang. If your cultivation were higher than mine, it might be different. But since your cultivation is not, how can you presume to divine my fate?"
"To dare to divine is to invite death!"