Chapter 78: A Comprehension That Pierces the Heavens (Part Two)

"Elder, be honest with me, this isn't just a comic book, is it?" Chen Fan said with a bitter smile.

The elder reassured him, "No, it won't be. At most, there won't be more than ten images. With your phone, what are you afraid of? Snap a picture and take your time to study it. If you can't decipher it, you can always call for outside assistance."

Chen Fan, having just resolved one doubt, asked, "This divination—how many years can it predict?"

The elder replied in a quiet tone, "In a lifetime, many things are destined by the heavens. If you could truly comprehend it all, it would carry you to the edge of the coffin."

"So you're saying my whole life is summed up in ten pictures?" Chen Fan found it hard to believe.

"People spend much of their time repeating the same things, living without much purpose. Truly earth-shattering moments are few and far between," the elder said, imitating Chen Fan's tone, the spirit of a philosopher possessing him.

"You're not quite there. The tone is right, but the spirit is lacking," Chen Fan commented objectively, then shifted his attention to the third image.

"Naturally so. I don't have your innate aura of melancholy, as if the whole world is conspiring against you," the elder replied, less enthusiastic now, finishing his sunflower seeds and moving on to popcorn.

A pair of black wings blocked half the sky, and even through the painting, Chen Fan could feel the oppressive urgency. The entire artwork contained nothing but thin clouds and a towering full moon, with nothing else in sight.

Chen Fan wasn't in a hurry; he saved the image on his phone first, then examined it closely.

"I thought it was just a pair of black wings, but there's actually someone hanging from them."

At first, Chen Fan assumed it was a demon or some infernal creature, but when he saw the true form of the body, he overturned his previous guess.

The figure's limbs were struggling helplessly, the blurred face etched with pain, fists clenched tightly. There was no sign of a scythe or any deadly weapon, only a sense of being bound beneath the wings.

"Is this... could it mean... I'll become a full-fledged masochist in the future?"

Chen Fan began letting his imagination run wild—bondage, restraints, torment—the words mingled and it was hard not to expect something out of the ordinary.

"Wait, is that a mosquito?"

He noticed a black spot in the image, thinking it was a pesky insect, and reached out to shoo it away, but nothing happened.

"Is that... a halo?" Chen Fan tried hard to make out the shadow in the image, but the object was too small. He could only vaguely discern something resembling a halo.

"Where's the promised high-definition, uncensored image? This is just a blurry black mass—are you messing with me?" As the colors faded, Chen Fan vented his irritation on the elder.

"It simply shows your fate—hazy and elusive," the elder explained calmly.

Chen Fan scrolled through his phone. Though his device could take 360-degree soft-lit selfies, it was still impossible to make out what the shadow actually was.

"This is really frustrating. If I'd known it would be like this, I wouldn't have bothered with the divination." Regret clouded Chen Fan's face. He hated being teased—half-revealed truths, curiosity piqued but never satisfied, a tormenting little enchantress.

"Oh, so now you're blaming me? If a beautiful girl were sent to your room, you'd expect her to undress herself? Can't you take the initiative? Whether you feast or nibble, you'll be satisfied," the elder said, rough words but sound logic, still munching popcorn.

Chen Fan replied, "I'd like to take the initiative, but in this pitch-black darkness, I can't even find the buttons on her dress. What am I supposed to do?"

"What else? Just tear it all off. The sound of ripping fabric is the most exhilarating," the elder began imparting easy-to-understand life philosophy.

Chen Fan paused, then nodded, "That's right—if you can't see, just use your imagination. It all looks the same with the lights off."

The fourth image hadn't appeared yet; Chen Fan focused his phone, patiently waiting, smoothly pressing the camera as soon as it came.

"Is this a coronation? It has a touch of Napoleon about it."

It was the interior of a palace, a red velvet carpet stretching from below to the center of the scene, crossing steps to a dazzling throne awaiting its occupant. Beside the carpet stood many nobles in tall hats, some whispering, others bowing in silence.

"I suppose the protagonist is me?"

Chen Fan pointed to the youth on the red carpet and called out to the elder, who glanced at it, lazily nodded, and yawned.

The youth was the only one standing on the red carpet, dressed plainly, unlike the surrounding ministers. Clearly from humble origins, Chen Fan saw that his steps were aimed toward the throne.

At the same time, Chen Fan noticed the strong contrast in the lighting—the front half was bright and clear, deliberately drawing the observer's eye.

Going against the grain, Chen Fan scrutinized the darker half and finally spotted a fallen crown and scepter by a shadowy pillar, behind which a narrow silhouette was hidden.

"My God, what is this—an underdog's rise, a coronation, power without title, establishing authority and the way?" Chen Fan mentally pieced together a host of fantasy tropes, settling on a conclusion that satisfied himself.

While waiting for the next image to load, Chen Fan habitually complained, "I strongly request divination be in words only. There's too much to decipher in a single picture."

The elder stroked his beard and said, "Ah, fate is beyond words, destiny doesn’t bend to your will. Divination and fortune-telling are like that—if everything is spelled out, all meaning would be lost."

"You lot are unbelievable. How did an atheist like me end up believing your nonsense?"

Chen Fan raised his middle finger. With the elder's explanation, the interpretation of the images now had endless possibilities. If it turned out inaccurate, the elder could simply claim it was misinterpreted—a problem that could never be disproved.

Grumbling aside, his phone was always ready to take screenshots.

"Stargazing?" Chen Fan said woodenly.

Most of the image was night sky, unlike usual—an expanse of black dotted with stars, but no sign of the moon.

"That idiot staring at the stars must be me. Maybe after reaching the pinnacle of life, I reflect on how things have changed, and finally, in enlightenment, my soul returns to nature?"

Chen Fan continued to imagine his future trajectory, a grand blueprint quickly etched in his mind.

"Wait, could it be Shaolin Temple? Logically, it should be a monk."

But it didn't turn out that way. The stars in the composition gradually broke apart, becoming powdery as they scattered, then were drawn back into the crystal ball, and everything was as before.

"That's it? Where are the promised ten images?" Chen Fan demanded.

The elder, a bit indignant, squeezed his upturned brows, "Weren't you just complaining there were too many? Now you're whining there are too few."

"Life really is short—my images are fewer than others'," Chen Fan sorted his thoughts, stringing together the threads of his fate.

"I'll spend some time wandering alone, then save enough to open an apple orchard abroad and win the hearts of foreign beauties. Because foreigners are so wild, I'll be trained into a masochist, then for some reason I'll rise up, dominate the world, and finally, on a night of success and fame, look up at the sky, achieve enlightenment, and ascend."

Chen Fan stroked his chin, convinced that this was the real truth.

"Well said. I hope you walk that path in the future," the elder replied with a cold face, parted his bangs down the middle, and clapped his hands in mock applause.