Chapter 6: Such a Meager Reward—Is This for Beggars?

Zhang Zhengchang heard Zhang Yi’s laughter and couldn’t help but glare at him angrily. The latter quickly shut his mouth, pretending to be obedient. These small details went unnoticed by Deng Zhongxiu and the disciples of Mount Longhu; upon hearing that the emperor had generously rewarded their mountain, their smiles grew even wider.

“I knew it! His Majesty is always good to Mount Longhu!”

“Of course! Back when His Majesty was still Prince Wu, didn’t Mount Longhu serve him well?”

“What sort of relationship do we have with His Majesty? We’ve eaten bitter food together, fought enemies side by side…”

The more the disciples boasted, the closer Zhang Zhengchang was to tears.

“Master, what did His Majesty give you…?”

Deng Zhongxiu, ever lacking in tact, pressed on about the rewards, even though Zhang Zhengchang had purposely avoided the topic. Seeing no way to dodge, Zhang Zhengchang forced out a smile and replied,

“His Majesty has conferred upon me the title of ‘True Master Successor of Zhengyi,’ granted a silver seal, and ranked me at the second grade.”

“Divine favor from the Emperor!”

The Daoists of Mount Longhu showered him with flattery, but halfway through, realization dawned, and a hush fell over the crowd.

“True Master Successor of Zhengyi? Not Celestial Master?”

“Second grade? A silver seal, and that’s it?”

They looked at each other in confusion—the rewards Zhang Zhengchang had described hardly sounded like a generous imperial bestowal.

The revered title of Celestial Master replaced with mere True Master, and only second grade? This was little more than a beggar’s pittance!

To compare, in the previous dynasty the Zhang family had been granted titles such as ‘True Master of Concentrated Spirit and Broad Dao,’ overseer of Jiangnan Daoist affairs; further elevated to ‘Master of Zhengyi,’ keeper of the Three Mountains’ talismans; bestowed the rank of Golden-purple Grandee and Duke of the State, with a golden seal, ranked first grade.

Every one of those titles surpassed the emperor’s current rewards—not only did the previous rulers give the Zhang family prestige and nobility, they also gave them real power. The most lucrative business of all was issuing ordination certificates; thanks to this, the Zhangs amassed untold wealth. By the time Zhang Zhengchang inherited the tradition, Mount Longhu’s influence rivaled, if not exceeded, that of Zhang Daoling and Zhang Lu in their primes.

Mount Longhu was no longer a remote outpost—who would care for the rewards given by Emperor Hongwu?

As silence settled, the emperor remained composed and serene. Zhang Zhengchang, however, stood there as if sitting on needles, forced to keep smiling and say,

“So, do you all think the emperor treats our Mount Longhu well?”

Deng Zhongxiu and the others, mindful of outsiders present, could only feebly respond,

“His Majesty is exceedingly kind to Mount Longhu!”

Their words praised the emperor, but their expressions betrayed their disappointment.

Standing behind Old Zhu, Zhu Biao suppressed his laughter, but a child couldn’t help but snicker, muttering under his breath,

“They’re all pretending—even though they’re on the verge of tears!”

“Silence!”

Fearing Zhang Yi might say more and invite disaster upon Mount Longhu, Old Zhang hurriedly stopped him.

“Brother Zhang, this must be your second son? He’s quite clever—I like him!” the emperor said.

“Come, let’s go inside and sit!”

Zhu Yuanzhang interrupted Zhang Zhengchang’s attempt to chastise Zhang Yi, and led the way inside.

Zhang Zhengchang shot Zhang Yi a warning glance, but worried the emperor might notice, he simply followed along.

Once inside, Old Zhang dismissed the others, leaving only himself and Zhang Yi.

“Father, judging by your expression, you’ve lost! Don’t forget you promised me a condition!” Zhang Yi whispered a reminder. On any other occasion, Zhang Zhengchang would have smacked him, but now he stood as if awaiting execution, utterly drained.

“Second son of the Zhang family, your father has already lost the title of Celestial Master, isn’t that suffering enough? Why sprinkle salt on his wounds?”

“Tell us, what wager did you make with your father?”

“Did you predict the emperor would strip the Zhang family of their Celestial Master’s position?”

Zhang Yi was startled and quickly looked at Zhang Zhengchang. Although he was mischievous, he had never spoken of this outside—how did this Old Huang know?

Zhang Zhengchang, seeing Zhang Yi’s gaze, felt utterly helpless.

He replied weakly, “Brother Huang is my father’s dearest friend, there’s no need to hide anything from him!”

Despite his words, Old Zhang kept signaling desperately, hoping Zhang Yi would understand his hints.

Yet, having always treated Zhang Yi indifferently, there was little rapport or tacit understanding between them.

Zhang Yi pondered—since his father was willing to share such matters, clearly this Old Huang was one of their own.

“Hello, Uncle Huang!” Zhang Yi greeted sweetly.

Old Zhu laughed heartily. In truth, he was a year older than Zhang Zhengchang, and being called ‘uncle’ always pleased him.

“Tell me, how did you know the Zhang family would lose the Celestial Master’s position?” the emperor pressed on, shamelessly reopening Zhang Zhengchang’s wounds before his very eyes.

Though Zhang Yi was a scamp, he knew better than to be disrespectful. He instinctively glanced at his father.

Under the emperor’s intense gaze, Zhang Zhengchang dared not give any hints, forcing a smile and saying,

“Your Uncle Huang is one of us. Speak freely—I’m curious myself. Did you really foresee this because Patriarch Zhang Daoling appeared in your dreams?”

Patriarch Zhang Daoling? Nonsense!

Zhang Yi scoffed inwardly. His loose tongue on Mount Longhu had revealed too much, so he invoked their ancestor to cover his tracks.

But having lied once, he could only continue, tears in his eyes.

He lowered his head and said,

“I’m not sure if it was really the Patriarch, but the old immortal claimed to be him!”

“What did the Patriarch say?” Zhang Zhengchang’s expression changed, regret filling his heart. So the ancestor had warned the Zhangs of their impending crisis through this rebellious son, yet he’d ignored it, treating Zhang Yi as a jinx.

Now, with events unfolding as they had, he bore a large share of responsibility.

Zhang Yi cleared his throat and, feigning maturity, coughed a few times.

“The Patriarch said that today’s Zhang family has forgotten the reason why Mount Longhu’s lineage has survived until now!”

“Since Patriarch Zhang Lu, every Celestial Master has kept a low profile. Emperors may have favored the Zhangs, or perhaps not cared for Mount Longhu, but the Zhang family has endured storms and persisted precisely because they hid their light and waited for their time!”

“Humility, propriety, loyalty to the sovereign and love for the country—these are why the Zhangs rose after the Quanzhen Dao was abandoned by the Mongols. Yet, after nearly a century of development, the Zhangs have become another Quanzhen Dao entirely!”

“How could such a Zhang family not expect to be disciplined by the emperor?”

Though only seven or eight years old, Zhang Yi, mimicking the Patriarch’s manner, spoke with passion and the faint aura of a seasoned Daoist.

Zhang Zhengchang opened his mouth, wanting to argue, but remembering Zhang Yi’s words about prosperity leading to decline, his mouth went dry.

Zhang Yi had no idea Old Huang was the emperor, but Zhang Zhengchang knew well enough that silence was safest.

He was overwhelmed with shame, for every word of the Patriarch now rang true.

“Besides, that emperor is notoriously petty!”

Zhang Yi added, and Zhu Yuanzhang’s smile froze on his face. The silence was so deep, a pin could be heard dropping.