"Forget it, if you can't talk nonsense, it shouldn't matter if you tell you directly, anyway, no matter how mysterious this chess is, it has nothing to do with cultivation. ”

"We don't practice, we learn mathematics!"

My aunt patted her head, she really couldn't think of it, and comforted herself with self-abandonment.

"Math?"

Ye Mingke looked at the stack of scratch paper that "stood majestically" on the small table, and suddenly felt that "playing blind chess" was actually quite good.

"So, aunt, what kind of chess are we playing?" Ye Mingke asked.

The aunt, who had always been embarrassed, suddenly sat up with a serious face.

"Tianyan. ”

She slowly spat out the two words, like an ancient esoteric incantation.

"Tianyan Chess?" Ye Mingke repeated the name in a daze, such a domineering name.

The word Tianyan contains the ambition of the group of people who founded this kind of chess. ”

"Your uncle told you last night that there is a group of people in the world who hold part of the power of accident or fate, and Tianyan Qi was founded by this group of people. Some of them have one thing in mind. ”

"All things in the world are primordial to one, one according to a certain rule gives birth to two, and adding that rule gives birth to three, and one plus two gives birth to four, and four adds one, and adds two, and adds three to give birth to five, six, and seven, and things are intertwined to infinity. ”

They fused these ideas with mathematics, believing that the bottom of the universe is a few parameters, from which the past, present, and even the infinite future of the entire universe can be deduced. ”

"If they master these few parameters, they even believe that the past, present and future of the entire universe can be reconstructed. ”

Of course, from ancient times to the present, no one has been able to do it, and even the vast majority of people in the process of chasing will despair that the world is absolutely chaotic and unpredictable, so they will give up the Tianyan technique, and regard this doctrine as a lie of self-deception. ”

No one can confirm or falsify this doctrine, but whenever the people who follow it are about to despair, there are often people who create through this doctrine that even God cannot reach, which can be called a miracle of the hand of fate. ”

"A butterfly flapping its wings, as long as it is in the right place at the right time, can set off a tsunami. So if a person can accurately calculate everything, even if he is a powerless old man, how much impact can he have on the world?"

"What a moving power!"

"Does this kind of power really exist? can anyone really calculate everything?" Ye Mingke's pupils widened with incredulity, and he said in a trance.

"I used to despair of the existence of this power, but then I believed in it. Aunt Long looked at him, her eyes were gentle, but with a faint fanaticism, "Because of you." ”

"Because of me?" Ye Mingke raised his head and couldn't help but repeat in confusion.

"Your very existence is a possibility that your father found after ten years of walking, counting ten years. So you can believe that your father loves you, and if not, how can he go to great lengths to find such a faint possibility in the impossible. ”

"Really?" Ye Mingke suddenly remembered that strange dream, the man with a blurred face in the dream, and the sunlight that never set, endless deduction.

Or, it wasn't a dream, it was something that had actually happened, perhaps, it was his father.

"Of course, Tianyan chess is not Tianyan art. It is a chess method invented by lovers of Tianyan theory for entertainment, but it contains almost all the basic mathematical skills in the world, and the requirements for a person's mental memory, calculation speed and mathematical attainments are extremely high. ”

"So the next training, you're going to have a hard time!"

"It's okay aunt, I'm ready. Ye Mingke raised his head, his eyes were bright.

It's really cool to have a father who can touch the hand of fate, isn't it? In this case, as a son, he can't be too inferior.

From this night on, he and Aunt Long learned Tianyan chess.

At the beginning, Aunt Long taught him the 366 types of chess pieces that Tianyan Chess originally contained, and then the way each chess piece moves, the conversion between each other, how new chess pieces were born, how players fought against each other, and so on.

Conversion and movement began to involve a lot of complex calculations, and this is when the manuscript paper on the table came in handy, and often at the end of the night, the room was covered with dense procedures.

But the manuscript paper is only an aid for novices, and Aunt Long requires him to use his brain to memorize all the changes in the entire chess game, and puts forward higher and higher requirements for his tacit calculations when deducing.

At this time, the training of blind chess in the previous two years also began to show results, and he did not feel particularly difficult to start.

Between the words, the chess game in his mind evolved, and the techniques on the manuscript paper under his hand meandered, and night after night passed like this.

During the day, Ye Mingke chopping firewood and mountaineering are still the same, and even more focused and hard-working than in previous years, especially chopping wood, he can feel that he is not far from his goal.

Every day when the sky was light, he would go out to chop wood, and at sunrise, he would sometimes stop to look at the beautiful red sun.

He longs for the day when he completes his second goal and learns his father's story and clues.

And now, although there are still many unsolvable mysteries, latent strange diseases, and hidden crises, he has friends, Uncle Long, and he knows that he has a father who loves him, at least once loved him.

What ordinary people have, they also own.

The world is actually good enough for itself, isn't it?

But he doesn't know that the cruelty and tenderness of fate often lie in the fact that you only see the tip of the iceberg, and that it will give you hope......

In the blink of an eye, it was another two years. Seasonal, winter.

To his surprise, two years later he still hadn't been able to accomplish his second goal.

The afternoon climb was still the most difficult level, and the highest climb he reached was halfway up the mountain, but he eventually passed out on the last few steps.

Because he still had fear in his heart, he sometimes wondered, is it true that only people who have no fear at all can climb that mountain? But is there really anyone in this world who has no fear?

In the night's Yantian chess, the goal given by his aunt was that he could start with 330 kinds of chess pieces and win against her who started with 110 kinds of chess pieces.

However, the number involved in the chess game is too profound, and he has not yet learned the algorithm mastered by Aunt Quan Long, even if he has the advantage of the opening game, it is still difficult to win.

The rest of the short-term hope for completion is the chopping of wood in the morning. It was the most monotonous training that didn't require any shortcuts, and at the same time it was the most ruthless training.

It requires a level of proficiency, proficiency in technique, proficiency in the use of strength, and perfect control through proficiency. It doesn't accept tricks, and it doesn't have much of an epiphany.

It's practice, how much worse is how much worse, and you can only go to it step by step.

Ye Mingke felt that he was not far from it two years ago, a year ago he felt a little worse, and then after a while, he felt that he was only a little behind, and recently he felt that he was only a little behind.

He felt that the hand holding the knife was still a little short of the knife.

On this dark and cold winter morning, he took the wood knife that had been with him for more than ten years, pushed open the door to the courtyard, and the cold north wind whistled and slammed on his face and the knife he was holding.

Looking at the cold wind roaring outside the window and the darkness before dawn, he clenched the firewood knife in his hand, and suddenly there was a realization in his heart that the difference between him and the firewood knife had finally been made up.

He lit half a pillar of incense in the cold wind and darkness, and then, as every morning for the past five years, walked to the stake in front of the pyre, his eyes calm.

He raised the knife in his hand.

The next moment, the melodious aria that sounded when Uncle Jian waved the firewood knife five years ago appeared in this small courtyard again.

The aria stopped, the sword light faded, and a thousand identical pieces of wood were neatly stacked on top of each other.

He turned his head just in time to see the last ash of the pillar of incense falling into the wind, and the last of the flame extinguished in the darkness.

Five years on, he did, and he didn't cheer as he had imagined. He just slowly let go of the wood knife in his hand and reverently lowered it on the stake.

Then he sat down slowly, waiting for the dawn to see a sunrise.

Then he would open Uncle's door and look for the second answer.