Chapter 965: Guessing the Opening Move
White Jade Capital's Azure Cloud Tower, Suppressing Peak Palace's Misty Grotto.
A young-looking cultivator, thin and gaunt, with sunken cheeks and a face full of worry, sat cross-legged on the mountaintop. He looked down at a long clay tablet, upon which a prophecy had been inscribed as if with iron nails.
His ten fingers were a bloody mess.
Truly, this was a case of "nailing it down" in the most literal sense.
He had just obtained an extremely peculiar hexagram, and the oracle text was impossible to interpret as either auspicious or ominous.
"The Way shall be lost for three hundred years, then this lord shall appear."
Unfortunately, after numerous painstaking divinations, he simply could not replace the word "this" with a specific surname.
So who was this person? What was his name and surname? Who was his previous incarnation? Which lineage would he belong to? When would he emerge from seclusion? Was he a demonic figure of the chaotic early days, or a singular talent akin to those who appeared at the founding of a dynasty?
Could it be that the long-peaceful Azure Green World was about to undergo an upheaval unseen in ten thousand years, destined for chaos, and that this person would appear five hundred years hence? Or was it that this person's very appearance would trigger a five-hundred-year era of chaos throughout the world?
Was he the final disciple of the Dao Ancestor, whose Dao name was Mountain Green? Was this all part of Lu Chen's foresight and preemptive planning?
Or would that Great Chief Instructor return to White Jade Capital after five hundred years to pacify the turmoil in the Azure Green World?
Could it be Xu Jun, the ghost cultivator from the Great Tide Sect?
Or perhaps it was Wang Yuanlu, that rising star rumored to be the remnant of the Rice Thief lineage in Yongzhou, with great hope of becoming the grand synthesizer of that eclectic Dao tradition?
He looked up at the sky. Unfortunately, he couldn't leave.
No, that wasn't right either. If he did leave, the heavenly secrets would instantly become chaotic, and everything would become uncertain, even more bewildering.
He let out a long breath, pulled the iron nails one by one from the clay tablet, and stored them in a cotton bag hanging from his waist. His ten fingers, already a bloody mess, now showed glimpses of white bone, yet his expression remained unchanged.
If he were outside this place, such an injury would be nothing. But the problem was that this was Suppressing Peak Palace's Misty Grotto. No matter what realm of enlightenment you had attained before entering, concepts like "Dao heart" meant nothing. Cultivation couldn't fill your stomach, but physical pain was real. If you got hit with a stick, you would definitely jump and howl. Not long ago, someone was stabbed with a knife, and their intestines slithered to the ground. That person died just like that, even though before entering Suppressing Peak Palace's Misty Grotto, they had been an immortal well-versed in talismanic arts.
This man, who could commandeer several mountain peaks for himself, was named Zhang Fenghai. He had been the... undeniable next-in-line City Lord of Jade Pivot City.
His two senior brothers, Guo Jie and Shao Xiang, had both considered this a matter of course back then, and Zhang Fenghai himself had thought so too.
In truth, the entire White Jade Capital and the Azure Green World had thought the same in the early years.
A ninety-year-old Flying Ascension realm cultivator.
According to a small piece of gossip, this was still the result of the old City Lord of Jade Pivot City deliberately falsifying his age for his final disciple. In reality, Zhang Fenghai had broken through the bottleneck of the Immortal realm at only eighty-one.
The key point was that Zhang Fenghai was a true all-rounder in Dao cultivation. Talismans, alchemy, formations, divination, mathematics—he excelled in everything. Among the Five Cities and Twelve Towers of White Jade Capital, pick any category, and Zhang Fenghai would be among the most outstanding.
Furthermore, if Zhang Fenghai hadn't been deliberately slowing down his breakthrough speed on the secret orders of his master, he would have become a Flying Ascension realm cultivator by the age of forty, or fifty at most.
It seemed that aside from not being a pure swordsman, Zhang Fenghai's cultivation career was perfectly flawless.
Unfortunately, he had crossed paths with the Second Chief Instructor, Yu Dou. After declaring his intention to sever his Dao registration from White Jade Capital, Zhang Fenghai failed to leave White Jade Capital through his own abilities.
He was imprisoned in Suppressing Peak Palace's Misty Grotto, a place specifically used to detain great cultivators. This confinement was nearing its eight-hundredth year.
This was a world-renowned "Grinding Immortal Cave." Similar to the Confucian Temple's Merit Forest in the Righteous World, or the Living Burial Hut of a certain lineage in the Western Buddhist Kingdom.
Having been here for nearly eight hundred years, unable to cultivate, Zhang Fenghai could barely consider one thing his main task. Since the Dao could not be spoken, he would first determine what was not the Dao. Persisting in this, he would eventually get closer and closer to the true "Dao."
Additionally, using visualization techniques combined with the art of deduction to create a phantom external self from nothing, refining his physical body, creating great talismans, forging, slaying his Three Corpses and then fusing and slaying them again... these were all minor matters.
If anyone thought Yu Dou was acting with good intentions, deliberately tempering Zhang Fenghai's sharpness so that this "Little Deputy Chief" could diligently cultivate, thereby breaking into the Fourteenth Realm, and then the two of them would meet again, set aside past grievances, and smile away their enmity... that would be greatly underestimating the Dao heart of that truly invincible man.
Yu Dou simply wouldn't deign to do such a thing.
And Zhang Fenghai was genuinely grateful that Yu Dou hadn't and wouldn't.
Zhang Fenghai looked into the distance and curled his lip. Well, no matter. He had quit drinking. It seemed quitting drinking was simple—just don't have any alcohol.
Besides him, this former "Little Deputy Chief of White Jade Capital" and Dao official of Jade Pivot City, others who had silently died here included two former Vice Tower Lords of the Twelve Towers of White Jade Capital. They had once been a Daoist couple. They too had violated White Jade Capital's golden rules and were personally led into this place by the Yellow Realm Chief to reflect on their mistakes.
He had heard that among the three thousand Daoists sent to the Multicolored World, there was a lead cultivator from Green Word Palace, one of the ancestral courts of the Talisman School, at the Nascent Soul realm, named Nan Shan. The relationship between that sect and Harvest Mountain was like the early days of Twin Capital Mountain and the Great Tide Sect. A female cultivator named You Ran and that Nan Shan, this young earth immortal couple, were born in the same year, month, and even the same hour, without a sliver of difference. It was as if fate itself had decreed a perfect match. Indeed, in Yinzhou, Zhao Ge could even become Xu Jun's Dao partner, so why couldn't they in this life?
In this Misty Grotto, everyone was suppressed by the Great Dao. All cultivators exiled here, regardless of their cultivation level outside, became, in the most literal sense, people without realms. There was not a shred of heavenly and earthly spiritual energy, so naturally, they couldn't cultivate their Qi. Furthermore, all cultivators were reduced to their original state. The tough bodies and souls that had been tempered by heavenly and earthly spiritual energy on their cultivation path here became as weak and fragile as ordinary mortals. However, the sole exception was that their originally "fate-determined" lifespan remained unharmed. Simply put, the flow of the river of time was completely different from the outside world. The human body would still slowly decay, just at a much slower pace.
This was definitely the work of the Dao Ancestor.
Zhang Fenghai stood up. Having been here for nearly eight hundred years, he had only ever guarded his own small patch of land. Looking out from the mountaintop, for instance, he saw a vast, boundless expanse of green shepherd's purse and wheat.
An old man had been helping to look after the waterwheel by the river for all these years. "Helping" was just a way of saying he attached himself to Zhang Fenghai, using him as a protector so he wouldn't be bullied every day, kicked to the ground, or pissed on his head.
This old man, who had long forgotten how many years he had been here, would get severe chilblains on his hands every winter, bleeding profusely, in unbearable agony.
Not long ago, while plowing the fields, he had dug up a broken sword tip and had voluntarily given it to Zhang Fenghai, somewhat like paying rent.
Unfortunately, Zhang Fenghai had searched but could never find the rest of that broken long sword. Such things depended on fate.
Later, Zhang Fenghai heard someone say that when the old man found the sword tip, he had grabbed this old relic, which belonged to no one knew whom, with his dry hands caked with dirt under his fingernails. He then sat on the ridge of the field, staring blankly at first, then sobbing quietly, repeatedly reciting a five-character ancient poem. The reason for the repetition was that he would often forget the rest halfway through. Then the old man would free one hand and pound his head fiercely. When he remembered another line, he would start over. Perhaps he never managed to recall the entire poem, or maybe precisely because he did remember the whole thing, the old man, who had been silent for a long time, suddenly let out a hoarse wail, seeming more heartbroken than when he was leashed by the neck and walked around like a dog.
Probably because the old man had once been a swordsman.
As for that five-character ancient poem, Zhang Fenghai didn't ask the narrator for its title.
There was no need. Zhang Fenghai, whose reading was extremely eclectic, could guess it.
A woman with a dark complexion and a slender figure walked to the mountaintop. She was the one who had accompanied the old man up the mountain to find Zhang Fenghai. She raised her hand over her head to shoo away a few annoying butterflies. After a long silence, she finally spoke, "What are you thinking?"
Although she wore a wooden hairpin in her hair, hemp clothes, and straw sandals, looking utterly destitute, colorful butterflies still fluttered around the wooden hairpin.
If it weren't for years of labor, which had roughened her skin from exposure to the sun, she would have been a great beauty.
She was a woman who had voluntarily requested to enter Suppressing Peak Palace's Misty Grotto. At first, White Jade Capital paid her no attention. Later, she committed a forbidden act and was thrown in here.
This female Daoist was named Shi Xingyuan, with the Dao name of Cloud Seizer.
She had once been the Patriarch of a staff-faction sect. It seemed she had come here to find someone. Whether she succeeded or not was debatable because the person she was looking for was already a pile of bones.
After personally burying the remains, there was no use crying over spilt milk. She thought, since she was here, she might as well stay. After all, it was hard to get in, and even harder to think about leaving.
She had no intention of leaving alive and had settled down here. However, to protect herself and avoid humiliation, she had attached herself to Zhang Fenghai, acting as a sort of maidservant over the years.
In this place, the old, the woman, or more precisely, the weak, all had pitiable fates.
If you wanted to survive, especially to live with dignity, you had to live in a completely undignified manner.
Zhang Fenghai's expression was wooden, as if he hadn't heard her.
Shi Xingyuan then changed the subject, pointing at the wheat field. "It looks like this year's harvest will be at least thirty percent better than previous years," she said with a smile.
Zhang Fenghai smiled along with her.
Two great cultivators, once illustrious, now sincerely rejoiced over the wheat harvest.
This was unimaginable on the outside.
Besides her, there were many strange people and odd events here.
There was a small old man covered in ancient swords. He used some unknown method to cling to life, surviving year after year, outlasting many "younger" generations.
He was often called an old beast, probably of demonic origin. The reason no one bullied him seemed to be that he could both take a beating and fight. He had once pulled an ancient sword from his body and chopped a "young" man into mincemeat, then dismembered the corpse and hung the limbs on a bamboo pole to dry. When dried, he would chew on them like jerky.
There was also a young-looking man, who seemed to be one of the founding patriarchs of the Rice Thief lineage. For all these years, he only liked to fire ceramics. People would often break into his thatched hut and smash everything, causing him to cry in grievance, but he would then bury his head and continue making pottery.
Someone was an expert swimmer, occupying a long stretch of the river. He made a living by fishing and had formed a gang. Initially, it was a dozen men and women who started procreating and multiplying. Now, the population was nearly fifty, and rumor had it they were planning to build a family ancestral hall.
There was a seductive woman who had been thrown into the Misty Grotto only a few years ago. She had been a Martial Artist of the Ultimate Realm in Zhuzhou. In the Azure Green World, a female martial artist at the first layer of the Ultimate Realm Qi-Surging Stage wasn't particularly impressive, at most throwing her weight around in one province. But once she got here, after a cautious start, she killed a man who came looking for her and was overjoyed. Although her physique was now like that of any mortal woman and she couldn't gather a trace of pure true Qi, she was still proficient in the techniques of killing. This meant that while her martial realm and physique were gone, some "memories" remained, enough to protect herself. After finding a few discarded weapons, she could kill at will. However, she never showed any interest in taking disciples. In recent years, she preferred keeping male concubines and had always coveted Zhang Fenghai, as well as Shi Xingyuan.
There was a sloppy, disheveled man with tangled white hair and beard, who had once been a "One-Character Master," also known as a "Word Thief." He specialized in stealthily altering the precious secret scriptures of immortal mansions and Daoist institutions. A careless Dao official could easily be led astray.
In the mountains, there was an unspoken rule about monks not revealing their names and Daoists not revealing their ages. This led to the existence of a monk who had broken his vows, known as the "Named Monk."
There was also a burly man who loved to run around naked, accompanied by a gang of thugs carrying weapons. If he took a disliking to someone, he would give them a beating. Apart from a very few forces he dared not provoke, as for the rest, in his own words, "they're a bunch of useless trash, not even worth three moves." Considering that back in his hometown, he was only a half-baked Jade Pure Realm cultivator, his first thought upon being thrown in here was that he was "honoring" Suppressing Peak Palace's Misty Grotto by being there. The only thing he could boast about was having once pursued a certain Zhu, but the problem was, what was so impressive about beating Zhu, who had once ranked eleventh in the world?
That Zhu from Ruzhou had never won a single fight in the mountains; he was always running, just deliberately running a bit slower.
After all, in this place, everything you once were—your Dao name, your mountain lineage, your realm, your magic treasures, your techniques and divine powers—was all meaningless.
Some people also liked to collect the immortal treasures that had been lost on the ground. Their grades were often not low; mostly magic treasures, with over a dozen half-immortal weapons among them.
But what was the point of having them besides as decorations? Absolutely none. Could they take them out?
If you got into a verbal dispute here, or couldn't avoid trouble and were harassed, the only recourse was a fistfight, a brawl, or an armed conflict. Victory usually went to whoever had more people, greater strength, crueler hands and feet, or knew a bit of "martial arts" they wouldn't have deigned to look at before. It wasn't that no one tried to study combat techniques, practicing with wooden posts day and night, trying to master the "great divine power" of walking on walls and flying over rooftops. Many had attempted this, but almost none had achieved any notable results. Seeing immediate effects was a luxury.
It wasn't that there were no "cultivators" who had a grudge against White Jade Capital and came to cause Zhang Fenghai trouble. But every single one who dared to climb the mountain to challenge this "Little Deputy Chief" had died.
Even that seductive woman who had always coveted Zhang Fenghai's "good looks" only dared to linger at the foot of the mountain several times. This "expert" who could "leap like flying" still gave up all thoughts of climbing the mountain every time.
Shi Xingyuan sat on a rock and asked with a smile, "I always feel you are the only one with a hope of leaving this place alive."
Zhang Fenghai didn't like to talk much.
She was used to it and continued on her own, "Not because of your status, but because your Dao heart might be the one most in tune with the Heavenly Mind."
Zhang Fenghai finally spoke. "If I didn't have a bit of martial skill to protect myself, I'd probably be suffering from buttache every day by now."
Listening to this crude language, Shi Xingyuan showed no strange expression. She was long used to it. The man beside her either kept silent or, when he did speak occasionally, was very direct.
She intertwined her ten fingers, stretched them over her head and behind her back, making her knuckles crack. She asked casually, "If you really could get out one day, what would you most want to do? Fight Yu Dou?"
Zhang Fenghai held back, then decided against it, didn't bother calling her an idiot.
She turned her head and smiled. "Go on, tell me."
Zhang Fenghai thought for a moment, then said, "Take a bath, change into some clean clothes. I hope it's a deep winter when I get out. Go dig for bamboo shoots in a quiet place. Winter shoots taste richer than spring shoots. Heavy snow sealing the mountains, have a stove-side feast of boiled winter shoots and bacon, drink big bowls of homemade bayberry wine, eat and drink my fill, get drunk, fall asleep, snore like thunder, and no one can boss me around."
She swallowed and wiped her mouth. "I shouldn't have asked."
Zhang Fenghai blurted out coldly, "That old man told me you've had your eye on my body for quite a while. True or false?"
Shi Xingyuan rolled her eyes. "I'm going down the mountain later to tear that old bastard's stinking mouth apart."
Zhang Fenghai said, "He's not afraid of that. Before you came here, he'd been force-fed shit and piss before. It came out his nose, all over his face."
Shi Xingyuan opened her mouth, then closed it.
Zhang Fenghai's expression was indifferent.
Shi Xingyuan said, "Zhang Fenghai, why don't you set rules for everyone?"
Zhang Fenghai asked, "And then what?"
Shi Xingyuan fell silent.
Many more "cultivators," once they got here, were like caged beasts. As time passed, many were tortured to death, but even more went completely insane.
Because in this Grinding Immortal Cave, the most terrifying thing was that all suicide attempts were futile. They would often revive the very next day, unable to find death.
So, throughout history, many people had racked their brains, trying to get others to kill them, deliberately seeking death. But none succeeded. They would always come back to life. It was as if some invisible Heavenly Lord was examining their hearts.
Those who truly wanted to die couldn't; those who wanted to live might not be able to.
This was the Grinding Immortal Cave. It seemed designed to completely grind away a person's dignity and so-called "Dao heart."
And there were countless skeletons of the dead, all once great cultivators who had shaken the world.
Among them were former Dao officials of White Jade Capital and cultivators from all Fifteen Provinces of the world who had violated the rules.
In this thousand-li land, the number of living people was probably around three hundred and seventy or eighty. More than half of them had been born and raised here.
Originally, for cultivators, this was a "palm-sized" patch of land, a matter of a few steps. But now, everyone had to travel on foot, so the territory wasn't small.
With fewer than four hundred people scattered in all directions, it wasn't easy to meet up. It was fortunate that the great distances made it hard to gather, with each occupying their own mountain. Otherwise, it's hard to say whether even a hundred people would still be alive in the Misty Grotto.
Shi Xingyuan looked up at the sky, bent down to pick up a stone, and casually threw it off the cliff. "My Dao age is insufficient. I've only heard a few mentions from my seniors on the mountain. They said that battle was the true battle that made Yu Dou famous. But no historical records document it. When you were in Jade Pivot City, did you ever see any secret archives about it?"
"I didn't see any relevant books. I'd read through all the collections in Jade Pivot City by the time I was thirty."
Zhang Fenghai shook his head. He paused, picked up some mud and smeared it on the wounds on his hands, and said slowly, "But I saw it with my own eyes. I used a method similar to 'absent-minded' long-distance travel, which is more stable than the Yin spirit leaving the body. It's long been lost. I figured it out myself from reading and then observed the entire battle."
In the earliest days of the Azure Green World, there were neither the nominal Fourteen Prefectures nor the commonfolk's customary Nineteen Prefectures. There were once Fifteen Prefectures.
Yu Dou led the charge, summoning all the Dao officials from White Jade Capital and then gathering Dao officials from all over the world to rush to that one prefecture's battlefield.
Its scale, its profound influence, and the tragic brutality of the war made the later Yongzhou Granary Pacification Campaign seem insignificant in comparison.
Along the border of that prefecture, upon layers upon layers of cloud seas, which just happened to encircle the entire prefecture,
Countless Dao officials wore blue ritual robes.
Like blue cranes.
A flock of blue cranes.
The final result was the literal "land sinking" of an entire prefecture, creating the massive lake that exists today.
Legend has it that a certain prophecy had long been circulating: "In a prefecture where the Way is lost, there shall be Land Sinking."
Later, the Azure Green World, now missing a prefecture from its map, truly did see the arrival of an out-of-town Daoist named Lu Chen. He was personally brought into White Jade Capital by the Great Chief Instructor, Kou Ming, eventually becoming a disciple of the Dao Ancestor and assuming the role of Third Chief Instructor. After that, Lu Chen built a South China City.
Having roughly described the battle scene to the woman beside him, Zhang Fenghai explained, "The reason the battle was so brutal was that an entire prefecture had become one being. More precisely, it was said to be a Fifteen Realm otherworldly heavenly demon. Somehow, it had successfully slipped from the Outer Heavens into the Azure Green World. All living things within that prefecture, along with the mountain roots and water veins, and all dead things within its borders—everything was it."
Shi Xingyuan listened, her heart pounding with terror. Suddenly, she frowned. "What about the Dao Ancestor?"
Zhang Fenghai said, "It seems he went to the Outer Heavens. The Dao Ancestor was seeking the Dao on the path."
Shi Xingyuan's expression turned strange. "So I'm this powerful, huh?"
Zhang Fenghai stood up, made a Daoist bow, and said, "I humbly welcome the Dao Ancestor."
A young Daoist boy materialized out of thin air. He nodded with a smile and turned to look at "Shi Xingyuan." Soon, a "cultivator" with a blurry face and ethereal form drifted out.
The Dao Ancestor smiled and said, "Zhang Fenghai, go participate in this Three Teachings Debate. If you win, I will allow you to sever your Dao registration from White Jade Capital. If you lose, you'll have to eat your winter bamboo shoot stew and drink your wine."
Zhang Fenghai bowed again. "I humbly obey your decree."
Shi Xingyuan looked at the "young Daoist boy," her lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.
The Dao Ancestor laughed. "Alright, Lu Bixia, stop hiding. Follow Zhang Fenghai and Shi Xingyuan out of this place. You are free from this moment on."
Shi Xingyuan felt a splitting headache. A moment later, a brilliant light shone in her eyes. "What's the price?" she asked.
The Dao Ancestor said, "Who do you think you're talking to?"
The next moment, Lu Bixia, a reserve Swordsman of the Azure Green World, a peak Flying Ascension realm cultivator who had been residing within "Shi Xingyuan's" soul, inexplicably tumbled out of Suppressing Peak Palace's Misty Grotto, landing on the border of White Jade Capital. He lay in the dust of the road, unable to get up for a long time.
In an instant, Zhang Fenghai and Shi Xingyuan were standing beside Lu Bixia.
Back on the mountaintop, the otherworldly heavenly demon sighed with emotion. "You're still more formidable."
The Dao Ancestor crouched down and gently turned over the clay tablet. The nails were gone, but the nail holes remained.
The Dao Ancestor stood up. The clay tablet turned into a cloud of fine powder.
"Unfortunately, it's too late again."
The otherworldly heavenly demon glanced over and sneered. "Last time it was me. This time, that Embroidery Tiger managed to fool the whole world again. I'll have to do some serious deduction to figure out how it was done."
It wasn't "The Way shall be lost for three hundred years, then this lord shall appear."
It was "The Way shall be lost for five hundred years, then Chen the lord shall appear."
Zhang Fenghai was still young, his Dao conduct insufficient. Still, it was no small feat, considering he had managed to calculate roughly seventy or eighty percent of it.
The Dao Ancestor said calmly, "Is this funny?"
The otherworldly heavenly demon immediately became terrified, then suddenly burst into arrogant laughter, then calmed down, and finally sighed with deep emotion. "Seeking the Dao on the path is so difficult. Do you intend to violate your own contract with the other two, lending a hand when the time comes? Or will you just dissolve the Dao and cease to meddle in the world's affairs altogether?"
The Dao Ancestor smiled slightly. "It's not like Yu Dou hasn't seen a big scene before."
The otherworldly heavenly demon nodded. "True enough."
So what if he had to stand against the whole world? It was like guessing the opening move in a game of Go. When Yu Dou sat before the board, he only picked up a single black stone.
---
In a small border kingdom of Ruzhou, within Yingchuan Commandery, there was a remote, small county. In it stood an old, dilapidated Daoist temple called "Spirit Realm," built upon a small hill that was really just a slightly larger mound of earth. A few years ago, there had been a once-in-a-century blizzard, heavy goose-feather snow, which actually collapsed several of the temple's dilapidated rooms. After the temple's abbot Daoist begged and pleaded, raising money from all directions, they not only rebuilt the rooms but also found they had a bit of money left over. So they simply renovated the entire temple inside and out and even applied gold leaf to the clay statues of the two patriarchs enshrined within. This made the temple abbot quite proud. Almost every day, he would make a special trip to the foot of the hill to gaze at the full view of the temple, feeling it was such an imposing Daoist sanctuary. Ancient trees provided shade, the newly built shrine was engraved with ancient seal script, and old locust trees were planted along the small paths.
This Spirit Realm Temple was utterly unremarkable. Scouring the local county annals, it was even difficult to find a Daoist old immortal to claim as a relative.
The temple was so small that only this abbot, named Hong Miao, was a registered Daoist official with a proper ordination certificate. And Old Abbot Hong was an outsider. In fact, looking back over the past three hundred years, all the successive temple abbots had been Daoists from elsewhere. As soon as their term of office was up, they would unhesitatingly leave this place, viewing the assignment here, sitting on a cold bench, as a dreaded path. The problem was that in this place, the heavenly and earthly spiritual energy was far too thin for cultivation. Becoming a Dao official, and once you were one, how to get promoted—it was simple in theory, but difficult in practice. First, it depended on your realm, becoming a Qi Practitioner. Second, it depended on your scholarship, which could also lead to ordination. Third, it depended on your family background; as long as you were willing to spend money, there was always a way. A Daoist temple faced a similar situation. Hence, large temples grew ever larger, with flourishing incense offerings, while small temples saw their incense dwindle until they could barely sustain themselves. This Spirit Realm Temple was a temple that had none of these advantages. It had a mountain to lean on, technically. But in this flatland region, the poor temple just stood on a lonely little hillock, reachable in just a few dozen steps.
The lower-tier imperial examinations were in a similar state. Forget about Jinshi officials; in the last two or three hundred years, they hadn't even produced a single Juren. As for whether it was two hundred or three hundred years, who bothered to remember? It wasn't anything to be proud of anyway. No one knew when, whether for Dao officials or the civil examinations, they would finally break the drought.
In fact, the current abbot of Spirit Realm Temple, Hong Miao, was not young. Although he looked about sixty years old, he was actually nearly a hundred. Yet he was still only a reserve Dao official. But such family scandals should not be aired in public; he just kept it to himself. Generally speaking, any Daoist temple, big or small, would have an abbot. However, the position of Abbot was not a permanent one, and sometimes one Abbot would be in charge of several temples. Such a person would inevitably be an enlightened master within a kingdom, someone high enough to meet His Majesty the Emperor.
According to an old saying among the temple's elders, in our Daoist religion, we have many terms for our buildings, but we don't use "temple" in the Buddhist sense. Furthermore, the title of Abbot was shared with the Western Buddhist Kingdom. It was similar to the distinction between "public forest" and "hereditary forest" temples, with both monks and Daoists having similar rules. Of course, the term Abbot was more prevalent among the monks, but what did that matter? Hadn't we also fought for and won the title of "Daoist"? If a young person in the temple asked, "Daoist? Weren't we always called Daoists?" they would certainly be met with a stern rebuke. "What do you know? These are secret matters. Later, when your ancestral graves emit green smoke and you become a Dao official yourself, you'll understand naturally."
The so-called "elders" of Spirit Realm Temple were only two people. Neither had a Daoist ordination certificate. One was a part-time temple priest. It was said that because his ancestors had donated several acres of good farmland to the temple, he could draw a salary here. After all, even a mosquito's leg is meat. The other was a "courtyard guest" Daoist, who also served as the receptionist. As for Old Abbot Hong, he multitasked diligently. Even the job of the accountant, clicking the abacus, was always handled by the old abbot himself.
Throughout a kingdom's various commanderies, Daoist temples, large and small, were almost all built by the official government. There were really only three things to compete over: first, whether it was "Imperially Founded." Only with an imperial decree could the plaque above the mountain gate bear the characters "Imperially Founded." Second, the number of Dao officials. And third, the support, meaning the vitality of the incense offerings, the number of major donors, and the number of pious men and women. In the Azure Green World, "public forest" temples were grander in scale and had more Dao officials, because nominally they belonged to all Dao followers and had no private property. In a sense, this could be understood as everything belonging to White Jade Capital.
Early this morning, Abbot Hong had gone for a walk down the mountain again. The snow outside the mountain was deep, and the scenery was quite beautiful. The old Daoist, stooped with his hands behind his back, slowly climbed the mountain. His face was full of worry, and he sighed continuously.
In a poor and remote area, producing a proper Dao official was truly more difficult than ascending to heaven.
The temple was so small that just by pushing open the main gate, you could see the main hall. Apart from the bell tower and drum tower, there wasn't even a two-story building.
They were really poor. The rich had a thousand ways to live well, but the poor only had one way to get through their hardships.
Yingchuan Commandery had jurisdiction over five counties. The government had built a total of three Daoist temples. Strictly speaking, Spirit Realm Temple shouldn't have had such meager incense offerings. But comparisons are odious. For example, the temple in the neighboring county had been lucky. Its ancestors had been wealthy and had built a Patriarch Qiu Hall. It was said to house a precious copy of the Dao Canon printed by the imperial court. So the pious men and women of this county would rather travel a long distance to burn incense there.
Old Abbot Hong's heart's desire for the past few years was to one day build a Hall of Wealth for Spirit Realm Temple.
The young people in the temple said that even in his sleep, the old abbot talked about this matter.
Including Abbot Hong Miao, there were only a total of six "resident Daoists." Because Liu Fang, who nominally held the title of temple priest, didn't live on the mountain.
Hong Miao entered the temple and found that only Chang Geng, the courtyard guest in charge of the kitchen, was there. As for the others, he didn't bother with them. If the sun wasn't three poles high, they would never get out of bed. Not one of them was diligent. The old man in the courtyard had already rung the morning bell. Figuring he had nothing else to do—the temple had a fixed ration of charcoal—he was sweeping the ground. When he saw the old abbot, he hugged his broom, greeted him, gently stamped his feet, bowed his head, and rubbed his hands while breathing out steam. The only advantage of a small temple was the many official titles one could choose from. In his youth, Chang Geng had been one of the few major donors to Spirit Realm Temple. Calculating from the account books, he had given the temple about three hundred and seventy taels of silver and had also donated many books. Of course, Chang Geng insisted he had only lent them to the temple, and they were worth at least seventy or eighty taels. This was a messy piece of accountancy left behind by the previous abbot. Later, when Chang Geng's family fortune declined, he was able to bring a poor relative here to scrounge for a meal. Even getting a "resident Daoist" status to draw a monthly salary was no simple matter. There were quite a few people in the county trying to pull strings to get into Spirit Realm Temple.
Hong Miao nodded to Chang Geng, made a round in the main hall, then stepped out the threshold and stood at the temple's main gate for a while. Returning to the courtyard, Chang Geng forced a smile on his wrinkled face and asked, "Abbot Hong, are you waiting for someone?"
Hong Miao shook his head with a smile and began performing Daoist paced steps in the courtyard. Chang Geng dragged his broom and stood to the side. One by one, three young men walked out of a side room. Their hands were thrust into the sleeves of their cotton Daoist robes. They hunched their shoulders, shivering, exhaling huge puffs of mist. They watched the abbot strolling around, but having seen it too many times, they had no interest and went about their own business. The mountain had a few non-adjacent vegetable plots. As for the temple's private fields, there were about a dozen acres, most of which had been allocated by the county government. After all, it was the only temple in the jurisdiction; they couldn't just let the incense die out.
The last person to walk out of the room was a sleepy-eyed youth. His features were only passable. He also walked with his head down and his hands in his sleeves. In the middle of winter, when the cold of melting snow was fiercer than the cold of falling snow, the so-called Daoist robes they wore were barely adequate for keeping warm. The youth first called out "Uncle Chang" to Chang Geng, and the old man smiled and nodded. Actually, sweeping the temple and the two duties of ringing the morning bell and evening drum should have been the youth's tasks. The old man helped with them. But the chore of emptying the chamber pots, which the other youths took turns doing, was spared for him. "You're not some precious young master or a wealthy son. Do it yourself."
Only after Hong Miao finished his paced steps did the youth named Chen Cong call out, "Abbot Hong."
Hong Miao just nodded. He normally didn't show a friendly face to this old man and this youth either. They weren't exactly lazy and gluttonous, but like the other few, they would never take the initiative to work if they could slack off. This was something Hong Miao couldn't appreciate.
What followed was the monotonous morning lesson. Apart from the youth who managed to be somewhat attentive, there were two little bastards swaying their heads and nodding off like chickens pecking at rice.
Besides Chen Cong, the three other young men were named Ma Zhong, Tu Gao, and Lin Shu.
Ma Zhong was a relative of the temple priest Liu Fang. Damn it, another one who got in through connections. Privately, Liu Fang had promised to donate another two acres of land to Spirit Realm Temple in a "few more years." Hong Miao couldn't be bothered to ask what "a few years" really meant. Before he stepped down, if Liu Fang still hadn't transferred the land deed to the temple, they could both pack their things and get out.
Ma Zhong had already thought of his Dao name for himself. He had attended a village school when young and liked reading. His schoolwork was mediocre, and he always liked to sneak off to the temple fair at the neighboring temple to look at the miscellaneous books, picture books, strange legends, detective stories, and romance tales sold at roadside stalls. He was willing to spend money on them. Probably reading too much had addled his brain. Ma Zhong harbored a delusional fantasy and would often ask Abbot Hong, "Are you a reclusive master like the ones in the books?"
Actually, Hong Miao did know a few celestial techniques similar to riding clouds and mists mentioned in books.
But he was so annoyed by Ma Zhong's pestering that he would fob him off with a few perfunctory words. "Yes, yes. I'll teach you a few immortal techniques later. Just wait patiently. Go. Go water the vegetable plot with manure first."
As for Lin Shu, just by looking at his name, you could tell his family had some money. Ordinary poor families wouldn't use such an uncommon character. Because the character Shu was so obscure, outsiders often mistook it and habitually called him Lin Lu. The temple followed suit. Lin Shu couldn't be bothered to argue. "A bunch of hicks, what's the use?" Lin Shu's family owned several shops in the county seat. They were fairly well-off. Because his parents were tired of him always looking for trouble and getting into fights, they went through... the county magistrate's... subordinate officials, spent some money to pull strings, and dumped him here to be "strictly disciplined and guided towards goodness" by the Old Immortal Hong.
Every time Lin Shu went down the mountain to visit home and returned to the temple, he would boast about his brand new clothes, which cost several taels of silver.
Only Tu Gao had gotten into Spirit Realm Temple through actual merit. He was of "orthodox background," equivalent to studying at the temple.
Because of his unusual surname and rare given name, Tu Gao always believed he was someone of great origin, even though he was actually from a rural farming family.
Ma Zhong always had some strange opinions.
"Our abbot looks like a martial artist. He knows quite a few fighting techniques."
He had heard that when the old abbot first came here, he liked to show off his learning. But now, after more than a decade, he had long since stopped bothering to talk to people who didn't understand.
Hong Miao taught a breathing and Qi circulation Daoist technique, which the old abbot described as mysterious. Later, Lin Shu exposed the truth: any government-built Daoist temple could teach this so-called "Immortal Guide Technique" to its resident Daoists. As a result, Lin Shu spent the entire next month busy in the vegetable plot and the kitchen. But after he handed over some copper coins, Tu Gao and Chen Cong did the work for him.
Ma Zhong always lived in his own world. Lin Shu seemed to laugh and joke every day, was warm and outgoing, and seemed to want to be brothers with everyone, though he often liked to fall out with people. Afterwards, he would act as if nothing had happened. Tu Gao most liked to put on a stern face towards Chen Cong, and Chen Cong was a sneaky bastard who never came off worse in a fight. Even if he lost here, he would always make up for it elsewhere. The only ones among them who had actually come to blows were Ma Zhong and Lin Shu, inside the building. Tu Gao's eyes shifted nervously, afraid to offend anyone. Chen Cong lay on the kang by the window, idly spinning a copper coin between his fingers.
Leaving the family and entering the Dao for fifteen years was an extremely important watershed, a considerable threshold. If you crossed it, or rather, if you endured it, even if you still couldn't pass the examination for a Daoist ordination certificate or find a Dao official to be your ordination master and receive the registers, and still had no formal orthodox lineage, you could go to the county government and apply for a job. For example, being a registrar in the Revenue Section in charge of land registers and household registrations. Your status and status would be significantly higher than that of ordinary clerks. Even officials like the county magistrate and the county commandant might be willing to stop and chat with you if they met you at the county office.
Actually, Ma Zhong and Lin Shu were both waiting for this.
If you could endure at least fifteen years at the temple, you would have a chance to get a post in the government office, considered a stable job. Among the clerks, there were different classes. Those who had "gold-plated" their resumes at a temple could often land some easy, lucrative, and relatively clean jobs that wouldn't make the neighbors curse them. At least they looked more like officials than some clerks. For example, a coroner, which was a hereditary "official position"—was that a good job? Certainly not. Though it was an indispensable position and an even more stable job, it always made the common people feel uneasy.
When the morning lesson ended, the courtyard guest Chang Geng had also finished in the kitchen, and it was time to eat. After the old abbot picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of vegetables, a mad scramble would begin, chopsticks flying. When Hong Miao reached out with his chopsticks again, they would all wait.
After that, there was a half-hour rest, and then there were lessons waiting for them. Sitting on the rush cushions in the main hall, Hong Miao wasted his breath. The others were just keeping the old Daoist company while they idled away the time.
Only Tu Gao could occasionally go into Hong Miao's room and look at the few books the old abbot had treasured for many years. But Tu Gao noticed that many of the old abbot's so-called private collections all bore the same bookplate. Tu Gao didn't need to think hard to know they were all old books from the courtyard guest Chang Geng's home collection. Many times, he thought about helping the old abbot tear out those pages with the stamps, which would be like destroying the evidence. But in the end, he never dared to do it.
The wind rustled through the pines. Days passed like this, one after another, marking time with the morning bell and the evening drum. Each day, after finishing lessons and meals, they would sleep, wake up, and it was another day. Time flowed by like water, unhurried and steady.
Last night, another heavy snow fell. The world was wrapped in snow like a fox fur coat. About two li from the temple, there was a river with a wooden bridge. Chen Cong often came down the mountain alone to loiter here.
Today, the river under the bridge was frozen solid, and the road was deserted of travelers. The youth in his cotton clothes had changed into a pair of old leather boots. He walked on the wooden bridge and jumped up and down a few times. The accumulated snow on the bridge fell onto the ice like scattered silver.
The youth had an excellent memory, able to remember things at a glance. Even after many years, he would still recognize someone he had only met once.
Furthermore, Chen Cong had his own ideas about every single book in Spirit Realm Temple's modest library, just from flipping through them once.
Chen Cong found this incredible and couldn't figure it out. It was mysterious and mysterious, almost as if... he had read these books in a previous life.
Moreover, Chen Cong realized that he often felt inexplicable melancholy or joy.
Finally, the youth arrived at a conclusion that made perfect sense!
"Damn it, I must be a genius in Dao cultivation, like they say in the books."
Chen Cong grinned, crouched down, grabbed a handful of snow, and slapped it on his face. "Calm down. Be calm. Show restraint."
Not long ago, he heard about a strange occurrence in the prefectural city. It was said that a ghostly entity that had drifted in from elsewhere was causing trouble and had taken several lives. Soon, a group of Dao officials dispatched by the imperial court arrived. Then, old Abbot Hong Miao seemed to have aged ten years overnight. Afterwards, he would often stand at the temple gate, as if waiting for someone. Then, two unfamiliar faces appeared at the temple—a man and a woman—but neither wore Daoist robes.
They were all squatting in a row under the eaves, soaking up the sun.
That man seemed to look at Tu Gao a few more times. The young woman with a cool expression glanced at everyone, finally pausing briefly on Ma Zhong, but neither seemed particularly interested.
She subtly shook her head at Hong Miao beside her. The old Daoist sighed faintly, seeming a bit disappointed, but not overly so. He had probably been mentally prepared for this.
"Even a clever housewife can't cook a meal without rice." These children were the best Daoist seeds the old Daoist had been able to find in the entire county over the years, within his limited means. Whether they had come to him willingly or were chosen by Hong Miao himself, like Tu Gao, it seemed there were still no surprises. Otherwise, could the temple priest Liu Fang or the courtyard guest Chang Geng have brought people in so easily?
This group of children was still unaware that to become the abbot of a government-run Daoist temple, aside from being a highly learned scholar, one's cultivation must at least be at the Cave Dwelling realm. Hong Miao belonged to the latter. His cultivation was decent, but he was not very bright when it came to book learning. And for receiving ordination registers, there were many examinations that could not be avoided. So he had always been stuck as a reserve Dao official. The reason he could still fill the vacancy at Spirit Realm Temple was precisely because of the old Daoist's Observation Sea realm cultivation. Of course, this also had a lot to do with the fact that Spirit Realm Temple was far from being a "fat job."
On this matter, Ma Zhong's opinion wasn't entirely wrong. He had stumbled onto the truth by accident.
To stop that fierce ghostly entity that was passing through, the old Daoist had actually been severely injured. Although his realm had dropped, he had rendered a service, which would be recorded by the prefectural government. If nothing unexpected happened, he would even be granted a life-extending elixir, which was extremely rare and could not be bought with money. However, he could no longer serve as the abbot of this temple. To put it simply, he could go retire in some quiet government office in the prefectural city.
Hong Miao had his own plans for these children.
Ma Zhong had the best aptitude. Hong Miao had the highest hopes for him, though he was still far behind the cultivation prodigies in the big Daoist temples.
Lin Shu was just a rich kid coasting through life. There was no point talking about him. The temple's incense offerings relied heavily on his family's silver donations. As for the little savings and belongings Hong Miao had painstakingly accumulated over the years, he had almost turned all his immortal money into that pitiful amount of heavenly and earthly spiritual energy. Several times in the temple hall, Hong Miao had secretly observed them, but those little bastards were either dozing off or oblivious. Not one of them could detect that ripple of Qi. This already revealed the problem. Including Ma Zhong, it was hard to say for sure if they could ever cultivate in the future. But at least it was certain that none of them were true geniuses naturally suited for Dao cultivation.
Tu Gao had strong bones and sinews and might be able to practice martial arts. He also had the most hope of passing the examinations through his studies to become a reserve Dao official.
As for Chen Cong, he had a good memory and could barely be considered a study seed. He could read some books at the temple, build a foundation, and then take the imperial examinations. It was too much to hope for him to pass the provincial exams and become a Juren. If he could just get a Xiucai degree in the future, starting a family and career wouldn't be too difficult.
These two eccentric wanderers from the Jianghu were old friends from the prefectural city. The man was named Song Tuo, and the woman was named Tan Sou.
Song Tuo was a Fifth Realm martial artist. He had at least reached the second layer of Qi Refinement and practiced internal family boxing. With another ten or twenty years of tempering his physique, it was conceivable that he could enter the Sixth Realm. Once he entered the Sixth Realm, in any prefectural city, he could earn a fairly high official position. Even opening a school to take disciples or founding a sect would be no problem. What's more, Song Tuo was friends with a Seventh Realm Grandmaster from Crow Mountain in the Red Gold Kingdom. This Golden Body Realm martial artist was said to be a disciple's disciple of a direct disciple of that "Master Lin."
In this Ruzhou, having one or a few Jianghu friends from Crow Mountain was a symbol of status. This applied to Jianghu martial artists, mountain cultivators, and government Dao officials alike.
As for the young female cultivator Tan Sou, she was a Qi Practitioner on the path of private ordination, a very young Cave Dwelling realm cultivator. After all, she was less than forty years old and was already an Upper Five Realm immortal.
Some things just couldn't be compared to those unattainable Daoist prodigies. It was too disheartening.
Moreover, Tan Sou came from a family with deep scholarly traditions. They had a private ritual altar. Simply put, they were a prefectural noble family qualified to engage in the private register trade. The government wouldn't support them, but it also wouldn't explicitly prohibit them. It was said that her original name was Tan Su, which had the same sound but a different character. Later, for some unknown reason, probably because the character Su was too obscure, she changed it to the simpler Sou.
After entering the room and closing the door, Hong Miao said bitterly, "It's a pity it's not spring. Otherwise, I wouldn't dare say I could stop that Dragon Gate realm ghostly entity, but delaying it for a few more moments wouldn't have been a wild hope."
The old Daoist had learned a bit of Thunder Magic in his youth. According to the golden rules established by the lofty White Jade Capital, an Ordination Master is unique. This decides a Dao official's orthodox lineage for their entire life, which is extremely difficult to change. However, there are almost no restrictions on Dao officials learning other sects' techniques. The more, the better. Hong Miao had mastered an unorthodox Thunder Magic, a skill he had learned from an eccentric master in his youth. According to Daoist texts, when primordial Qi congeals and disperses into a thing, the true spirit within completely dissipates, becoming a wild ghost or wandering soul. The sound of spring thunder in the world is like a death knell for those evil and filthy yin entities. Unfortunately, Hong Miao was limited by his own innate talent and was not proficient in the Dao. He could only, year after year, at midday during the golden autumn season, refine and condense about three liang of soul-shaking wind. Combining this with his Thunder Magic was still utterly inadequate against a Dragon Gate realm ghostly entity.
Hong Miao took out a string of nine imperial coins with hanging yellow tassels from his sleeve and said self-deprecatingly, "This fight has truly been a loss down to my grandmother's house."
This was a precious magical tool bestowed by the court according to regulations when Hong Miao became the abbot of Spirit Realm Temple.
The rewards from the various kingdoms' courts in Ruzhou varied. Demon-revealing mirrors, demon-catching gourds, talismans—their types were numerous.
Song Tuo's expression was grave. "Brother Hong, I can recommend you to the White Rain Gang. I've always had a good relationship with Gang Leader Liu Xi."
Hong Miao waved his hand. "We're old brothers. Don't try to puff yourself up like that. The White Rain Gang is a vassal sect of Crow Mountain. Their standards are very high. Besides, the whole Crow Mountain especially dislikes dealing with Dao officials from other kingdoms. Grandmaster Liu might be willing to give you, Song Tuo, a guest elder status in the White Rain Gang for free. But a friend of a friend is a different story. If it were me, I probably wouldn't agree. Why ruin your friendship with Liu Xi? Do you think I don't understand these social graces?"
Hong Miao then let out another sigh. "The Ministry of Justice in the capital, along with the resident experts in the prefectural government, will probably send people here soon to investigate the details of this matter. It'll just be a formality. Then I'll have to pack up and go back. I naively thought I could do something here. Whether a Dao official or a Jinshi, if I could help Yingchuan Commandery produce such a figure, I could use that merit to break through the bottleneck of the Observation Sea realm. But instead, my realm has dropped. It's the perfect example of 'trying to steal a chicken only to lose the rice.' Now I just hope that 'one generation plants the trees under whose shade another generation rests.' Even if I don't get any real benefit, I can at least have peace of mind. I just don't know if I can live to see that day."
This was the old Daoist's greatest selfish ambition.
He had volunteered to come here as the abbot of Spirit Realm Temple precisely because he was banking on this "one in ten thousand chance."
If a local Dao official emerged from here, the old Daoist would have a share of the merit.
Of course, Hong Miao wasn't the only one who saw this. In fact, nine out of ten of the previous abbots who came here to try their luck were after this. The one who wasn't was, of course, someone who had failed in officialdom, been ostracized by superiors or colleagues, and was sent here to sit on a cold bench.
The reason a cultivator's drop in realm was so disastrous, besides the significant loss of power and the difficulty of unleashing many trump cards, was primarily the issue of lifespan.
Hong Miao couldn't rely solely on that single pill. Even if he had to sell off everything, he would have to go to the immortal ferry ports or familiar immortal dwellings in the mountains to buy a few life-sustaining elixirs. What did money matter anymore?
Song Tuo struggled for a long time before managing to squeeze out a few words of comfort. "You still have to have some faith that good deeds will be rewarded."
Hong Miao nodded with a smile. "That's right."
The old Daoist looked out the window, feeling both melancholy and lost.
Hong Miao had once held lofty aspirations. He had the Dao technique skill to become what the Daoist texts called "a heart of a square inch is the Heavenly Mind of ten feet; an enlightened being free of distracting thoughts." He also wanted to receive the three great precepts of Initial Truth, Middle Pole, and Heavenly Immortality, and pass on the Dharma and receive the registers from a "Vinaya Master" of the imperially built temples of the court. Or perhaps to hold an enthronement ceremony in a premier "public forest" temple in Ruzhou and become its Abbot. Or even to become an Earth Immortal with a golden core, a permanent resident of this land, and be the most true immortal.
His greatest wish, one the old Daoist didn't dare think about too often, was, of course, a dream journey to the Five Cities and Twelve Towers of White Jade Capital!
Tan Sou said, "Daoist Hong, if you don't think it's beneath you, you could come to my family as a honored guest. We've always been short of a private tutor."
Even though Hong Miao's realm had dropped, he was still a Cave Dwelling realm cultivator. Besides, the old Daoist had connections and incense offerings, and he was still a learned man.
It wasn't a very profitable deal for her family, but they could probably guarantee not to lose money. After all, besides his salary, they would certainly have to give him one or two life-extending elixirs.
The old Daoist smiled and waved his hand. "Why bother making a deal that doesn't benefit either side? If I were a free man, I could go to your Tan family home in Hejian Prefecture and be a guest, enjoying a free glass of good wine. But if we had to stare at each other every day, with my temperament of mediocre skill and a big temper, we would eventually have a falling out. Then we'd just blame each other. Why make it so hard on ourselves?"
Tan Sou was about to speak, but quickly swallowed the words.
Hong Miao turned his head to look out the window. "They're finally here."
Under the eaves of the side building, a few people were squatting in a row. Chen Cong only slightly raised his eyelids, then continued to cup his hands in his sleeves and yawn.
As for Ma Zhong, he had already crept to the base of the wall to eavesdrop on the three people talking, but it seemed he couldn't hear anything.
Three figures landed at the foot of Spirit Realm Temple and chose to climb the mountain on foot. This wasn't because they respected the obscure little temple, but because they dared not ignore the rules of White Jade Capital.
Ma Zhong was the first to turn his head. Seeing the three strangers entering the temple gate, he quickly stood up, hardly daring to breathe. They were genuine government Dao officials, real immortals!
Tu Gao nudged Chen Cong with his elbow and jerked his chin, signaling him to take a look at the honored guests.
Chen Cong first turned to look at Tu Gao beside him, then looked up blankly, stunned for a moment. Finally, his eyes suddenly lit up, filled with curiosity, envy, inferiority, and longing.
The three immortal Dao officials consisted of a young cultivator carrying a copper coin sword on his back, an old man with a light golden demon-catching gourd hanging from his waist, and a young woman who looked like a maid.
All three were puzzled. How could a ghostly entity that was causing trouble suddenly appear in the normally peaceful Yingchuan Commandery? And it was of a considerable realm.
From the imperial court down to the prefectural city, no one dared to take it lightly. Especially the latter, who had been on edge. In fact, so-called "several lives taken" was an exaggerated rumor. What had actually happened was that two county governments had been teased and harassed by the audacious ghostly entity. Among them, two who held Dao official status had been haunted. One had gone mad, laughing foolishly, and had been wetting his pants several times a day. What a disgrace. The other, a Dao official who wasn't a Qi Practitioner, hadn't fared much better. He had been stripped naked and thrown out into the street. This ghostly entity was practically provoking the officials of the entire commandery, or even the whole kingdom.
Already, Dao officials on the border had launched a thorough search. Their trio was responsible for carefully searching the surrounding few hundred li. Fearing the ghostly entity was cunning and might be hiding near Spirit Realm Temple, they had come here. Besides verifying the incident, they also needed to confirm whether the ghostly entity was hiding in the small mountain area. The three entered the temple. Without waiting for Hong Miao's polite greetings, the young Dao official carrying the ancient copper coin sword produced a demon-revealing mirror. Riding the wind, he rose into the air, and the light shone in all directions. The young Daoist slowly moved the copper mirror, not even sparing the bell tower and drum tower of Spirit Realm Temple. Finally, he descended back into the courtyard. The abbot, Hong Miao, showed a faint trace of anger on his face but remained silent throughout.
Inside the old Daoist's room, after a round of questioning, the three Dao officials recorded the information in their books and left. They descended the mountain on foot, then rode the wind and traveled far away.
They also brought an official document from the prefectural government, which they left for Hong Miao. The old Daoist was effectively no longer the abbot from that moment on. He was to return to the prefectural city for another assignment.
After they left, the old Daoist called over the courtyard guest Chang Geng, handed the temple's account books to the old man, and told them to wait patiently for the new abbot. There was no need to worry about the handover of property, account books, and books. The account room only had a few dozen taels of silver left anyway. The old Daoist also said he had pasted talismans in several places in the temple and warned them not to tear them down casually, as they could ward off evil and ghosts.
In the days that followed, everyone in the temple was terrified. Fortunately, they didn't see any ghosts. The temple priest Liu Fang, upon hearing the news, first thought about sleeping in Hong Miao's room for a few nights before the new abbot arrived. At first, he wasn't too scared. Instead, it made him more determined to stay at Spirit Realm Temple and not leave. But when he heard that Hong Miao had pasted talismans, he was terrified and turned tail, dashing down the mountain. He resolved not to come up the mountain for several months. It didn't matter whether there was a temple priest or not.
Behind the temple, next to a vegetable plot, there was a well that had been dry for many years. Besides fallen leaves and accumulated snow, there was nothing inside.
In the early days, Lin Shu often scared the others on purpose, saying that a woman who had drowned herself in the well was actually inside. Hong Miao happened to overhear and gave Lin Shu a thorough scolding.
Tu Gao noticed that Ma Zhong had recently changed. He seemed like a different person. Initially, they had clear division of labor, and no one wanted to do even a little extra. But Ma Zhong had voluntarily taken over all the work in the vegetable plot and often got up at night, returning to the room after a long time. Over time, even Lin Shu noticed something was off, but he was happy to see it. Why stop someone from being diligent? After Tu Gao pointed it out, Chen Cong also thought it was strange. After thinking it over, he agreed with Tu Gao to stay up at night and see what Ma Zhong was up to. In the end, Chen Cong slept like a log. Tu Gao forced his eyelids open. He clearly heard the subtle sounds of Ma Zhong opening and closing the door, but Tu Gao was ultimately too timid and afraid of the cold. After thinking about it, "Sleep, sleep."
Inside the dry well, the inner wall was like a hanging painting. There was a beautiful woman in a bright red wedding dress. Truly, a beauty like a painting.
This was also why she had managed to evade the demon-revealing mirror earlier. When the light flowed into the well like fire, it had indeed made her feel scorching, and she could only grit her teeth and bear it. Otherwise, she couldn't exactly run out and start a massacre, which would be suicide. But it was strange. Lately, she kept sensing some subtle traces in the little temple that annoyed her. So, taking advantage of the gap when there was no Dao official in the temple, she used a unique secret technique to carefully investigate every corner of the temple. It turned out that little girl Tan Sou had done something. Her realm was low, but she had secretly left a family heirloom talisman pasted under the desk in Hong Miao's room. A trump card? Well, it was indeed meticulous. If she were lucky, in a few decades or a hundred or two hundred years, Mama might even be a bit wary of it.
Heh, trying to play mind games with Mama now? Little girl, you're still too green.
As for Ma Zhong, he had indeed been haunted by her, completely entranced. But she was also well aware that if Ma Zhong hadn't been so unreliable, it wouldn't have gone so smoothly.
Regardless, she intended to cultivate here for a long time.
In the capital of the Southern River Kingdom, an old immortal of the Upper Five Realm served as the Nation-Protecting True Man. Tonight, the old True Man ascended a high platform at the Imperial Observatory to observe the stars. Withdrawing his gaze, he sat on his rush cushion and let out a faint sigh. He dared not tell a single soul about the conjecture in his heart, not even His Majesty the Emperor.
The kingdom's administrative system was set up with Circuits, Prefectures, Commanderies, and Counties. Prefectures were not a permanent establishment; they were mostly set up in critical locations. For example, the recent ghostly entity violation occurred in Yingchuan Commandery, which had been striving to be promoted from Commandery to Prefecture for the past century.
He dared not even utter a single word to the Emperor.
On the border of the Southern River Kingdom, there was a small, secluded area of mountains and waters. It was very likely that this was the... Dao Dissolution trace of a great cultivator under some special circumstances.
For example, a Daoist's secluded retreat in the mountains, where during closed-door cultivation, he was unable to control the dissipation of his Dao Qi. The starting point for this would have to be the Immortal realm. Or perhaps, a great cultivator had quietly transcended, and all his Dao Qi had completely dissipated into the world. In any case, the old True Man dared not report this matter to White Jade Capital. In the final analysis, besides the dubious origin of this strange area, which seemed quite mysterious, its impact, even if blown out of proportion, was still a minor matter. It would just create another Dragon Gate realm ghostly entity. But if White Jade Capital were alerted, it would no longer be a minor matter. If they were careless, it could become a huge problem. Not only for him, but even His Majesty the Emperor and the entire court wouldn't be able to bear the consequences.
If the Great Chief Instructor of White Jade Capital were still around, or if Chief Instructor Lu were still handling the world's affairs, it wouldn't be too big a problem.
Perhaps with extraordinary luck, that Chief Instructor Lu, who enjoyed playing among the people, might even deign to visit the capital of the Southern River Kingdom.
Thinking of this, the old True Man let out another long sigh. He had been cultivating for several hundred years and had never been to White Jade Capital. He had only seen a White Jade Capital Celestial Immortal Dao official from afar during a viewing ceremony. They were far apart, and he saw clearly, but he dared not approach and exchange a single word.
The problem was that it was currently Chief Instructor Yu who was in charge of the world's affairs.
Since it wasn't a big deal—just a ghostly entity, at most a Golden Core realm, causing some disturbances without major trouble—it would be fine to just downplay the matter. All they needed to do was catch the female ghost.
Atop Leap Month Peak, Xin Ku stopped his stake practice. Slightly moved, he unconsciously turned his head in a certain direction.
But recently, Xin Ku had seen too many strange things, so he didn't delve deeper.
Especially the appearance of that Lin Jiangxian, followed by the Azure Sky Grotto Master, and before that, that Dragon Master from Yongzhou who had inexplicably spat blood after performing a divination...
In a small county on the outskirts of Yingchuan Commandery, in the Spirit Realm Temple on the mountain, late at night, Ma Zhong went to the well again. He jumped straight down, landing at the bottom, and saw the beautiful mural.
Lin Shu slept soundly, snoring like thunder.
Tu Gao tossed and turned but still couldn't muster the courage to follow Ma Zhong. He hesitated about whether to tell the old abbot about this. But he suddenly realized he didn't even have an address. How was he going to find him?
The youth Chen Cong lay on the side closest to the window. His right hand rested on his abdomen, and his left hand lightly clenched into a fist, the back of his hand touching his right palm, holding a piece of porcelain as decoration.
Perhaps because he was having a pleasant dream, the corners of his mouth were slightly raised, and he wore a faint smile.
Half asleep, half awake, this youth with slightly dark skin and regular features silently murmured to himself.
"The Dao within me is virtue."
"Wandering within it, unable to escape the dark cave of ignorance."
From the present and the future, all kinds of difficulties and adversities, things that go against one's wishes, shall all be eliminated. Body and mind are at ease, peaceful and auspicious.
Practice all good deeds, refrain from all evil. Part the snow to seek spring, light the lamp to continue the day.