"If Heaven endowed it with Destiny, then Heaven itself would have a flaw," the young man retorted.
Zhang Houlu was quick-witted and immediately replied, "After a person dies, their nature returns to its source. Heaven will not be flawed."
The young man suddenly picked up a stone from the ground and threw it at Zhang Houlu.
Zhang Houlu was originally a Grand Academician. If an external object came flying at him, the force of his instincts would surely knock it away. Yet, to everyone's astonishment, the stone acted as though Zhang Houlu's power did not exist. It traced a graceful arc and lightly landed on Zhang Houlu's forehead, leaving behind a faint red mark.
Some scholars looked angry. How dared a Licentiate attack a Grand Academician!
But they could not readily lash out, so they all waited to see how Zhang Houlu would handle it.
Zhang Houlu stood frozen in place, as though the blow had stunned him senseless, and began staring blankly.
"When the pebble falls to the ground and returns to its source, where does your pain come from, and where does it go? And what of your shock, your confusion, and your worries?" the young man asked.
Zhang Houlu remained seated, utterly motionless.
The others stared blankly at Zhang Houlu, then turned to look at that utterly ordinary-looking young man. They were all deeply shaken. If a Great Scholar had spoken such words, it would have been nothing remarkable. But why could a Licentiate speak such simple yet profound truths?
Everyone discarded their previous prejudices and pondered the young man's words.
A Metropolitan Graduate tentatively answered, "Pain comes from your power, so naturally, you are the one who bestowed pain upon it."
The young man looked at the pebble before the tiger skin and asked, "Then why