But as the years went by—especially after he started school and was systematically exposed to all those so-called "scientific principles" and "materialist ideas" in the textbooks—the wavering nature of a child's mind, easily swayed by the outside world, gradually began to show itself.
The "real skills" that had once seemed so mysterious and powerful to him now appeared, under the glow of "science," to be not so lofty after all—perhaps even a little embarrassing.
That day, Qin Yu was growing restless over the task his great-grandfather Feng Yu had assigned him: to focus his mind and draw three evil-banishing talismans within the time it takes a single stick of incense to burn. He had already spoiled several sheets of talisman paper, and frustration was written all over his young face.
Finally, he threw down the special wolf-hair brush in his hand, his delicate little face creased with bitterness, and ran to the old locust tree in the courtyard, where Feng Yu sat leisurely sipping tea.
"Great-Grandpa!" he pouted, his tone filled with reluctance and a trace of grievance. "I don't want to learn these weird, superstitious things anymore!"
"Our teacher said so! Drawing talismans, chanting spells, fortune-telling, catching ghosts—it's all feudal superstition! All tricks meant to fool people! It's nonsense! If the police find out, they'll come and arrest you!"
Feng Yu paused for a moment, the purple-sand teacup suspended in mid-air. Then he slowly set it down and looked at the little fellow before him, whose face radiated that proud, "I've been enlightened by science, unlike you ignorant folks" expression. A wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
He didn't scold or argue as he might have in the past. Instead, he reached out, pulled the sulking Qin Yu over, and set him on his lap.
Then, lifting a finger, he pointed into the distance—to a small, dimly lit house across several lush green fields.
"Yu'er," he said softly, calmly, "do you still remember what happened last summer, just before the wheat harvest, at your Uncle Yang's house on the east side of the village?"
Qin Yu froze, the complaint fading from his face. He nodded vigorously, and in his bright eyes there lingered a trace of that lingering fear he still felt whenever he thought of it.
Of course he remembered. How could he forget?
That night, lightning flashed and thunder roared. The wind howled with rain as if the heavens themselves were collapsing.
Afraid of the thunder, he had hidden behind the window, peeking outside—and saw it with his own eyes: a dark, shapeless shadow exuding a bone-chilling aura, clinging to Uncle Yang's son, that tall, burly man who could supposedly kill an ox with a single punch.
He remembered it clearly—the simple, good-natured young man from the Yang family, who always smiled when greeting others, had eyes that turned completely crimson, his face twisted and feral. From his mouth came deep, animalistic growls that no human could make. His strength was monstrous; even a handful of strong men couldn't hold him down. He was on the verge of breaking free, and disaster was imminent.
If Great-Grandpa and Second-Grandpa hadn't arrived in time, each wielding those strange talismans that burst into golden flames the moment they were thrown, and chanting words and gestures Qin Yu couldn't understand—if they hadn't fought with all their might to drive that terrible shadow from the young man's body—the consequences would have been unthinkable.
"That shadow that still frightens you when you remember it," Feng Yu asked quietly, his voice calm yet piercing, "could your schoolteacher—the one who teaches you about 'science'—see it?"
"And those uncles from the village who were there that night—could they see it?"
Qin Yu instinctively shook his head hard.
"They couldn't, could they?" Feng Yu continued. "But you could see it. And your grandfathers could see it too. And we were able to drive it away, weren't we?"
Qin Yu nodded again.
"That's why," Feng Yu said, gently stroking the boy's soft hair, his tone patient and weighty, "there are many things in this world that ordinary people cannot see, cannot touch, and cannot comprehend. Just because others can't see them doesn't mean they don't exist."
"It's true, as your teacher said, that many people use the name of 'mysticism' or 'spiritual power' to swindle others—charlatans who put on a show and deceive the gullible. Those tricks and false rituals are true superstition."
"But, my child," Feng Yu's eyes deepened, "there also exist those like us—who have inherited ancient, genuine wisdom, and who wield power that transcends the mundane. The path we walk is not illusion, but truth. It is the 'Way' passed down by our ancestors, who sought to understand the mysteries of Heaven and Earth."
"What is superstitious are the lies and falsehoods. What we uphold and believe in is the real truth of this vast world—the truth that most mortals simply cannot perceive."
Qin Yu listened quietly, half understanding, half not. He lowered his head to look at the half-finished talisman before him, the ink still glistening wet, then raised his eyes again to his great-grandfather's—a pair of eyes deep and bright as if holding the stars and the sea within them.
He fell silent for a long while. Inside that small head, a fierce battle of thoughts seemed to be raging.
At last, he nodded slightly. His voice still held a trace of hesitation, but it no longer carried resistance or rebellion.
"Then… maybe I'll… keep learning a little longer."
Time, ever flowing, slipped quietly onward.
In the blink of an eye, more than ten years had passed.
The little boy who had once wavered between "feudal superstition" and "scientific truth," and had chosen to "learn just a little more," had now grown into a tall, striking young man with extraordinary bearing and a heroic spirit.
Time had been kind to him.
Qin Yu's looks bore the mark of some rare, ineffable inheritance buried deep in his bloodline—his features were almost too perfect, his beauty verging on otherworldly.
Especially those eyes: dark and deep, gleaming with clarity. When they moved, they seemed to pierce through a person's heart, carrying a faint, natural sense of detachment.
Years of cultivation under his two mysterious grandfathers had imbued him with a unique, ethereal grace, a touch of immortality that set him apart from all his peers.
Wherever he went, he was always the most dazzling presence in any crowd.
The year of the college entrance exams, when results were released—
The quiet, remote Qingliu Village, and even the surrounding towns for miles around, erupted in unprecedented excitement and pride!
Qin Yu—
The beloved grandson of the two "immortal old masters" of Qingliu Village!
That boy who'd been impossibly smart since childhood, whose handsome looks made all the village girls secretly dream—
He had received admission letters from both of the nation's most prestigious universities: Beijing University and Huaqing University!
And not just admitted—his scores were so high they stunned the entire province, a record that left others only able to look up in awe!
The news exploded like a firestorm.
"Qin Yu, that kid—truly incredible! He's brought so much honor to Qingliu Village! The whole Qin family must be blessed!"
"I told you before! Those two old gentlemen aren't ordinary folk at all! Only hidden masters could raise a grandson like that!"
"And have you seen the boy's looks? My heavens! Handsome like he walked straight out of a painting! My daughter can't stop talking about him!"
"Old Li! You'd better act fast! I heard several city families have been coming around in fancy black cars, dressed to the nines, sending the best matchmakers to ask about Qin Yu's family—they're all trying to marry their daughters off to him!"
Walking leisurely down the familiar stone path of his village, Qin Yu heard the villagers' proud praise, the teasing talk of the aunties and grannies trying to propose matches.
He kept a polite smile on his face, just the right balance between modesty and youthful shyness, nodding and replying humbly—"Oh, I was just lucky," "Still have to work hard," "Not as great as they say."
But deep inside, the spark of pride belonging to a young man blazed wildly, like weeds after summer rain—spreading and growing without restraint.
Hmph, he thought to himself with quiet delight, the corners of his lips curling in a faint, smug smile that only he could detect.
Of course! Who do they think I am?
A born genius! Brilliant beyond compare!
And, might I add, devastatingly handsome—everyone loves me!
A man like me is destined to leave this tiny mountain village behind and go on to conquer a greater world!
To bring glory to my family—no, to the entire Qin clan! Yes… that's exactly it!