At first glance, Wang Guan and the others immediately noticed that behind the book, someone had indeed drawn a picture in the blank space. Moreover, the picture was very familiar, as if they had seen it somewhere before.

“This isn’t…”

In an instant, Wang Guan reacted, his expression turning odd. “It seems we aren't the only clever ones under heaven.”

It was no wonder Wang Guan said this, as the drawing in the book was clearly the engraving on the stone stele, but oriented upright, forming a Feng Shui pattern.

Clearly, people in the past didn’t know, but Lu Chongming’s grandfather had already deciphered the mystery of the stele’s engraving.

“How could this be…”

At the same time, Lu Chongming also came to his senses, his face etched with astonishment. He recalled that his grandfather had passed away when he was very young, leaving him with no particular memories. But now, he suddenly realized that perhaps his grandfather had been an extraordinary master back then. For a moment, his feelings were incredibly complex.

“What’s wrong?”

Seeing their strange expressions, Lu Chongming’s paternal cousin was quite confused.

“It’s nothing.”

At this moment, Elder Duan suddenly asked, “By the way, where is Brother Lu’s remains interred? Could you take me to pay respects?”

“Hmm?”

The cousin started, then suddenly understood that Elder Duan wanted to examine the Feng Shui of his family’s burial site. This was something he would eagerly welcome, so how could he refuse? However, considering Elder Duan’s age, he hesitated slightly. “The place is rather far, and the mountain paths are difficult…”

“That’s no trouble,” Elder Duan waved his hand and chuckled. “I often trek through mountains and wilderness. Don't believe me? Ask Wang Guan.”

“Elder Duan is hale and hearty; when climbing mountains, he moves as if on flat ground,” Wang Guan confirmed, without the slightest exaggeration. After all, he was a Feng Shui master who had spent decades on mountain trails, developing a strong physique.

Hearing this, the cousin no longer held back and immediately led the way.

As they walked, Wang Guan quietly asked, “Elder Duan, this Feng Shui diagram must point to the legendary blessed land, right? You suspect Grandfather Lu is buried there?”

“No.”

Elder Duan shook his head gently and explained softly, “A Feng Shui master never reads his own fortune or examines his own Feng Shui, much like a doctor who cannot treat himself. Moreover, even if one discovers a blessed land, one dares not covet it, lest things go to extremes and bring endless trouble.”

“Oh.”

Wang Guan suddenly understood. Elder Duan’s ascent up the mountain to view the Lu family gravesite was a pretense; his actual goal was to seize the opportunity to search for the blessed land indicated in the drawing.

Of course, a drawing is inherently two-dimensional. Judging by the layout, it indeed showed excellent Feng Shui, but it required on-site inspection to be confirmed. After all, in Feng Shui theory, a mountain being an inch higher or lower, including the condition of the rocks and vegetation, could influence the standards of good or bad fortune, filled with uncertainty.

This is why countless Feng Shui masters have traveled across rivers and mountains for millennia, frequenting desolate wildernesses, all in the hope of finding a blessed burial site. It wasn't necessarily for their own use, but to prove their worth—to show that what they studied was not a useless skill, but profoundly practical knowledge.

Elder Duan was like this. He could have refused Wang Guan’s request, but upon hearing that a blessed land existed here, he rushed over from a thousand miles away. Seeing Grandfather Lu’s study notes further confirmed his feeling that the journey was worthwhile.

Soon, the group ascended the mountain, overlooking the village from the high peaks. After observing for a moment, Elder Duan concurred with Wang Guan’s assessment, believing the ancestral hall possessed the best Feng Shui—a pattern of ‘Jade Belt Water,’ embracing with affection, nourishing vitality, and benefiting the entire village.

“Wang Guan, your judgment was correct,” Elder Duan couldn't help but praise. “You grasped the essentials after only hearing me explain a few things. Are you interested in developing this field? I can teach you everything I know; I guarantee you’ll qualify within ten years.”

“Ten years?”

Wang Guan immediately shook his head upon hearing that. “Isn’t that a bit long?”

“Ten years is already fast,” Elder Duan sighed. “I’ve shortened the time by half because I see your talent. For an average person, it would take at least twenty years of dedicated study before they are qualified to advise others on site selection and acupoint determination.”

“Elder Duan speaks the absolute truth,” the cousin chimed in earnestly, wholeheartedly agreeing. “The mysteries of Feng Shui are vast and profound; how could one master them without ten or twenty years of effort? Anyone who studies for just a few years is only halfway there, capable only of bluffing and cheating, truly knowing nothing about locating dragon veins and determining auspicious spots.”

People are strange; no matter the profession, they always hope others have spent decades in diligent study before entering the field. Yet, when it comes to themselves, they wish they could become fat in one bite, believing they are geniuses who don't need so much time to learn.

These two mindsets, seemingly contradictory, are actually a form of relativity.

“Yes, precisely,” Elder Duan nodded. “Three or five years is simply not enough time to grasp the true meaning of Feng Shui. Someone at that level advising others will ultimately harm both themselves and those they advise.”

“Fortunately, I never planned to study it,” Wang Guan laughed. “I haven’t even mastered the nuances of antique collection yet; I don't plan on changing careers.”

“What a pity.”

Despite anticipating the outcome, Elder Duan was clearly disappointed when Wang Guan refused, shaking his head slightly. “Finding a good disciple is hard. Modern youth shy away the moment they hear it requires over a decade of study.”

Wang Guan smiled, unsure how to respond, and naturally remained silent. Fortunately, Elder Duan didn't mind; after sighing, he became absorbed in observing the terrain, commenting on its merits and flaws.

“The dragon vein arriving from a thousand miles away has gone through layer upon layer of peeling and transformation, shedding its coarse, bulky form to produce a tender, pearl-like site for burial.”

At this moment, Elder Duan pointed out the landscape. “The method of peeling transformation here is through a sudden drop or break. The true dragon vein, as it moves, must have many moments of rest and submission, breaking then connecting, connecting then breaking—the form interrupts, but the momentum does not. The mountains may separate, but the vital energy remains connected.”

“So, the peaks we see now—some large and robust, some delicate and beautiful, some with strange rocks jutting out, sheer cliffs, even deep chasms and canyons—these are all stages in the dragon vein’s metamorphosis.”

As he spoke, Elder Duan chuckled. “The dragon vein achieves natural convergence of vital energy through continuous metamorphosis. However, due to differences in topography and terrain, the resulting energy convergence will naturally vary in quality. Of course, most sites are merely mediocre; burying someone there may bring no benefit, but certainly no harm…”

Elder Duan gestured, and everyone saw that among the peaks, there were indeed several graves—clearly the so-called mediocre sites. After all, these were just common folk who hired ordinary geomancers; they could not hope for blessed sites or fortunate resting places. Being interred in an average location was satisfactory, as it posed no inherent danger.

This has been the way for thousands of years. Those truly buried in blessed lands, whether ancient or modern, were always the powerful and the wealthy; everyone was accustomed to it.

Wang Guan and Lu Chongming remained relatively calm, as both were still at the stage of "believing it might exist, but not necessarily." Lu Chongming’s cousin, however, was different; he might not be completely convinced, but he believed in it substantially, especially Elder Duan, whom he now trusted ninety-nine percent. Seizing this rare opportunity, he eagerly sought instruction.

His little plan was obvious to everyone. He primarily wanted Elder Duan to help select a felicitous site that he might use after his hundredth year. The term 'might' was used because cemetery plots were incredibly expensive now, and who knew what changes the future held? At that point, perhaps the real difficulty would be affording death…

Elder Duan paid no mind to the cousin’s subtle intentions. His mouth was his own; he could speak if he wished, and no one could force him otherwise. During the discussion, however, he did point out a few plots of land, remarking that those areas were good. The cousin’s joy was evident, and he quickly committed these locations to memory.

Thus, the group walked, stopped, and walked again. Over half an hour passed before they finally reached the place where Lu Chongming’s grandfather was interred. It was on the mountainside of a hill that wasn't particularly tall; the trees on either side were relatively lush, giving a verdant impression. The grave mound rested on a relatively flat area midway up the slope, occupying a modest footprint, featuring a very common design.

Upon arrival, the cousin bowed to the grave mound and then turned back to ask, “Master, what do you think of this spot? My father chose this place himself; it should be adequate, right?”

“Hmm, it’s adequate.”

Elder Duan looked around, circled the area once, and then nodded slightly. “I can see that Brother Lu was quite self-aware; he calculated everything, leaving no room for accident.”

“What do you mean?” The cousin looked puzzled.

“In Feng Shui theory, where one is interred must also align with one’s life pattern.”

Elder Duan explained, “Especially for us Feng Shui masters, who reveal too many heavenly secrets during our work, we fall into a pattern that is inherently hard on descendants. To counteract this drawback, we seek not a blessed land that will shower future generations with blessings, but a peaceful location that can conceal heavenly secrets and prevent harm from reaching our descendants.”

“Just like this mountain.”

As he spoke, Elder Duan gestured. “If you had paid close attention on the way up, you would have noticed the mountain range here is rounded and thick, like a cover. For ordinary people, this might seem like a poorly formed enclosure, but for a Feng Shui master, it is an excellent place of concealment—a 'Heavenly Secret Umbrella' that shields one’s fate.”

“There’s such an interpretation?”

For a moment, Wang Guan and the others were surprised, listening with mixed belief.

“Actually, this is a good thing,” Elder Duan smiled. “Although being buried here means you lack ancestral protection, conversely, it means you have no constraints, allowing you to move forward unburdened, possessing unlimited potential. Any future success will be built entirely upon your own efforts, which can then directly benefit your descendants…”

“Besides, didn’t Brother Lu already arrange things for you while he was alive? The general direction has already been paved; as long as you don’t stray, there won’t be any unforeseen problems.”

Hearing this, Lu Chongming felt nothing particular, but his cousin was finally relieved. He bowed deeply to the grave mound again, his expression showing a touch of tranquility, as if he had let go of some long-held obsession.

“Elder Duan,” Wang Guan whispered at the same time, “did you find that blessed land?”

“Still looking,” Elder Duan shook his head slightly and murmured. “But I have a feeling we are close; it seems to be nearby…”