Chapter 642: Chapter 642

Zhuchengzi harbored doubts in his heart, but doubts were just that, and he absolutely dared not show the slightest disrespect.

Although Hidden Dragon Temple wasn’t widely known among the common folk, stories of divine Daoists slaying demons, bringing order to chaos, or enlightening the State Preceptor were not uncommon. For example, there was the Daoist who supported Great Yan’s founding, the one who inspired its mid-dynasty revival nearly a hundred years ago, and the female Daoist from a few decades ago who was famed for slaying demons. But since the times were relatively peaceful then, such tales were fewer.

Even though these figures had entered folklore, few knew where they came from, because when these Daoists descended from their mountain, they followed an unspoken rule: they would only say they hailed from Lingquan County, Yizhou, rarely would they mention Hidden Dragon Temple to commoners.

However, to those in the know—like Fengtian Temple, which stood at the peak of worldly Daoist practice—Hidden Dragon Temple was no secret. That Daoist Tiansuan from nearly a century ago had long been the object of lifelong reverence and admiration at Fengtian Temple, and was practically worshipped as a deity.

To them, a disciple of Hidden Dragon Temple was undeniably a figure of immense stature, and must be treated with the utmost respect.

So the moment Song You arrived, Zhuchengzi gave immediate orders to prepare a grand banquet—one befitting the highest of honors.

Fengtian Temple had its own farmland, chicken coops, and sheep pens, and it kept rare ingredients on hand. Normally, these would be sufficient to host even a visiting regional governor. But today, that was not enough.

They needed freshly hunted delicacies from the mountains—wild pheasant, venison—as well as freshwater delicacies like river fish and shrimp. Of the six kinds of livestock, all but oxen had to be prepared. Whatever seasonings the temple lacked also had to be quickly procured.

Some had to go hunting, some were dispatched down the mountain to purchase supplies, and others were sent to borrow ingredients from neighboring temples. None of this was easy.

In the midst of this sudden bustle, pilgrims and tourists watched in confusion as all the temple’s Daoists abandoned their duties. Even those who had been chatting with wealthy nobles or interpreting omens politely excused themselves and left.

No one could figure out what major event had happened at Fengtian Temple. Whatever it was, it had been decided behind closed doors, and within moments, the temple’s Daoists poured out of the mountain gate, some heading down the mountain, others rushing to the rear hills.

Their faces were tense, their steps urgent. For the refined, composed Daoists of Fengtian Temple, famed for their divination and strategy, such agitation was highly unusual.

Some curious guests grabbed Daoist acquaintances to ask what was happening.

The only reply was, “A distinguished guest has arrived.”

No one knew who this guest was.

They only knew that Fengtian Temple had never acted . Its Daoists were known for being aloof and unflustered. By the standards of Great Yan, even if the emperor himself came, it wouldn't stir this kind of panic.

But then again, if the emperor were coming, with the Daoists’ abilities, they would have foreseen it in advance.

Zhuchengzi, along with one of his junior brothers—an elder of high prestige within the temple—personally accompanied Song You throughout.

The elder Daoist asked respectfully, “Where have you traveled from today, Your Excellency?”

“From Yunding Mountain,” Song You replied. Then he added,

“This visit is both to pay respects and to borrow the temple’s divine hall to offer incense to the gods. Whether as a guest or a supplicant, I come with a request. Daoist Zhuchengzi, so long as you don’t find our arrival abrupt, then I’ve nothing to worry about. But I must ask you not to call me ‘Your Excellency.’ Just ‘fellow Daoist’ will do.”

“Respectfully, I shall obey your wishes!” Though Zhuchengzi said this aloud, in his heart he silently repeated the words, Yunding Mountain.

Half of Mount Luming lay in Pingzhou, and the other half in Yaozhou. Fengtian Temple was on the Pingzhou side, meaning it was in the same prefecture as Yunding Mountain. With Fengtian Temple’s capabilities and expertise, major events across the land rarely escaped their notice. A few months ago, word had spread like wildfire in Pingzhou that a celestial being had appeared on Yunding Mountain.

So it was this person. But there had been no news of that immortal leaving.

Perhaps he hadn’t left in haste, but had made his way here slowly.

If that was the case, and he only arrived today, then considering the thousand li between Yunding Mountain and here, it would likely be several more days before the news of his departure even reached them.

“The weather is quite pleasant today,” Zhuchengzi said with deliberation. “A rare warm and sunny day for winter. Last year, Miaohuazi gifted the temple two glazed crystal tiles. They were installed on the roof of Divine Elder Hall. In the afternoons, sunlight streams through the tiles into a narrow beam that shines on the rising incense smoke and dust. The sight is much beloved by our visitors.”

He paused, carefully choosing his words.“Since it is not yet time for dinner, and you’ve come to offer incense, Daoist Master Song, would you allow me to take you there now?”

“No rush,” Song You replied. “I have an important matter to tend to, and it’s best done deep into the night.”

“Deep into the night...”

Zhuchengzi savored the words. He dared not press, nor probe further. He simply said, “Then we shall go by your timing, fellow Daoist.”

By mid-afternoon, pilgrims began to descend the mountain one by one.

Thanks to Mount Luming’s fame and Fengtian Temple’s reputation, many inns and guesthouses had sprung up at the foot of the mountain. Some were roadside carriage stops, others small family-run hostels in village homes. There was even a rather fine inn among them.

Since Fengtian Temple had limited guest rooms, many pilgrims who couldn’t return home in a day were accustomed to finding lodging down the mountain.

But today was different.

After careful thought, Zhuchengzi issued the order to clear out the temple entirely, and even the wealthy and high-ranking pilgrims who had paid hefty offerings were politely asked to leave, using the excuse that a major event was occurring within the temple.

The people of Great Yan held Daoists in high esteem, so no one dared raise a fuss.

But as they made their way down the mountain path, they saw many Daoists returning in haste—carrying bags of ingredients, baskets of herbs, bundles of rare spices. All of them were rushing back uphill.

People were even more puzzled. When they asked what was going on, they got the same answer, “The temple owner said an esteemed guest has arrived.” No one knew who this guest was.

As dusk fell, the light of the setting sun bathed the mountain ridges in hues of dream and illusion, casting silhouettes of the peaks. Fengtian Temple became remarkably tranquil.

In the many courtyards and temple halls, lamps were lit one by one.

Soon after, Daoist music began to play.

Pingzhou was a place rich in celestial and supernatural lore. Its culture of cultivation and Daoist study was deep-rooted. As one of the Four Great Daoist Mountains, Fengtian Temple had developed a distinctive and time-honored musical tradition.

The music was led by a set of chime bells, accompanied by the singing and chanting of Daoist musicians. Their voices shifted—sometimes low and murmuring, other times clear and resonant. The blending of instruments and voices created an ancient, lingering melody with profound resonance.

It was said that during the previous emperor’s reign, the Prime Minister of Great Yan once visited Fengtian Temple and stayed the night. Upon hearing this Daoist music, he entered a trance—beholding ancient gods descending, old immortals arriving at his table to converse with him. The moment the Daoist music ceased, they vanished into smoke. This story had become widely known.

The music lasted a long time before finally fading into silence.

There were other Daoist temples in the mountains as well—some large, some small, some with prestigious lineages, others more obscure. Some were close to Fengtian Temple, others farther away. Among them, a few temples, upon hearing the Daoist music drifting from Fengtian Temple, could judge simply by the tone and duration of the performance that today, a very distinguished guest must have arrived.

Moreover, some of Fengtian Temple’s disciples had hurriedly come to borrow ingredients earlier in the day—an act completely out of step with the temple’s usual composed and foresighted style, known for its skill in divination and strategy. This only deepened the curiosity of others.

Some Daoists, with time on their hands, came specifically to investigate.

But all they saw was the main gate of Fengtian Temple tightly shut, with lights blazing inside—a rare sight, with lanterns and candles fully lit, and the fragrant aroma of food wafting through the air. Yet ever since the Daoist music had ceased, not a single sound could be heard from within.

A grand feast lasted nearly two hours. By the time it ended, the glow of dusk had already faded from the sky.

“Many thanks for your generous hospitality, fellow Daoist. But it was a bit too extravagant that it makes it hard for me to feel at ease,” Song You said as he stepped out from the main hall and into the temple’s corridor, speaking to Zhuchengzi.

“It is our temple’s good fortune.”

“Fellow Daoist, you are far too courteous.” Song You walked as he spoke, shaking his head lightly.

A cat followed behind him with soft, pattering steps.

“...” Song You pressed his lips together for a moment, then asked casually,

“Fellow Daoist, are you familiar with a temple on the mountain called Zhenyan Temple?”

“Naturally,” Zhuchengzi replied. “Zhenyan Temple isn’t far from here. The disciples there were once skilled in mantras and prohibitive spells. Later, they acquired more advanced incantation techniques. They’re fairly well-known on the mountain.”

“Then… are you familiar with a Daoist there named Mu Shou?”

Zhuchengzi thought for a moment and quickly understood not only who he meant, but also why he was asking. So he answered truthfully, “There is indeed such a Daoist Master, though we usually call him by his Daoist title. Years ago, he went to the capital, Changjing, to seek his fortune. He even once discipled under my junior brother, Changyuanzi.

“But later, his heart grew twisted and he strayed from the righteous path. He was punished by a highly skilled individual. When he returned to Zhenyan Temple, he had already fallen victim to his own dark arts. He was unable to speak, or cast spells, and bore several injuries left by his enemies.”

Zhuchengzi paused, perhaps recalling something, perhaps realizing who that “highly skilled individual“ was, and now pondering how best to put it. “After he returned to the temple, the senior disciples who had trained with him disapproved of him. The younger ones also shunned him because of his character.

“Since he could no longer speak or perform spells, he was treated coldly by most. Still, the temple considered the fact that he had once been one of their own, and gave him a small hut at the back of the temple to live in alone and cultivate in silence. They brought him food and soup every day, and at least he never went hungry.

“They say that over time, through quiet cultivation, the festering sores on his body gradually healed, and his temperament became much calmer. If I recall correctly, it was the year before last...”

“Because he had been injured before leaving the capital, and had aged quite a bit, it’s said that he died on the cot in his hut. Just before dying, someone heard him speak.”

“He said, ‘I have a lifetime of heavy karmic debts, yet in the face of death, my heart was calm instead.'”

Zhuchengzi spoke while discreetly glancing at Song You, only to quickly avert his eyes again.

Song You said nothing, but inwardly, he sighed with emotion.

Back in Changjing, he had once encountered this man named Mu Shou, style name Pingqiuzi, at the State Preceptor’s residence. Because Mu Shou had aided the wicked and attempted to harm him, Song You had used the man’s own methods against him, punishing him with a curse: he was forbidden to speak or cast spells for the rest of his life, and was ordered to return to the mountains to cultivate in isolation.

If he ever attained true spiritual enlightenment, the punishment would naturally be lifted.

Mu Shou had, indeed, returned to Mount Luming to cultivate. But who would have thought that the day of his spiritual completion would also be the day of his death?

It was impossible to tell whether he had attained clarity and insight only at the moment of his death—or whether it was precisely because he had become enlightened, that he severed all worldly attachments and ended his karmic entanglements of his own accord.

“The Divine Elder Palace is just ahead,” Zhuchengzi said to Song You, pointing forward.

Ahead lay a corridor like one out of a palace garden, with rows of redwood pillars curving gracefully along its length. From a distance, the pillars stretched out one after another in a seamless arc. Between them hung newly placed paper lanterns, their candles just halfway burned, casting a dreamlike glow over the corridor.

“Thank you.” Song You offered his sincere thanks. He continued forward.

During the day, Divine Elder Palace had been bustling with incense-burners and tourists. But now, it was utterly quiet. Only a few candles, lit by the Daoists, flickered gently amid the silence. High-quality incense sticks had been placed in offering, and the hall exuded a serene and sacred atmosphere.

The Daoist stepped inside, glancing around. The term Divine Elder was an ancient title for the Celestial Emperor.

Previously, that title had belonged to Divine Elder Yang. Now, it belonged to Divine Elder Lin, also known as the Crimson Gold Emperor.

A long altar stretched across the Divine Elder Palace, with the central position naturally reserved for the Crimson Gold Emperor. Flanking him to the left and right were statues of the major and orthodox deities currently serving in the Heavenly Palace. Some were obscure in the eyes of the common people, but held high ranks in the heavens. Fengtian Temple had honored them too, placing their statues here in this, their grandest shrine.

This was the benefit of a true orthodox Daoist temple.

It saved Song You the trouble of visiting multiple temples to complete his task.

“Fellow Daoist...” Song You stopped at the entrance to the hall and turned to Zhuchengzi, who was about to accompany him inside.

“Please shut the temple doors for me.”

Zhuchengzi instantly understood.

He stepped back without another word and gently closed the doors behind him.

Only then did Song You proceed into the hall.

A Daoist Master, when needing to notify the Heavenly Palace and the gods, must do so through a Daoist temple by borrowing the power of the gods’ own shrines and statues. This was essential. After all, gods were still gods.

If a Daoist were to oppose a god, no matter who won or lost, neither side would hold a grudge against the temple that housed the statue. Quite the opposite, temples existed to serve and honor the gods. No matter how angered the Crimson Gold Emperor might be, he would never trouble Fengtian Temple for simply fulfilling its devotional duty.

But Song You did not wish for Zhuchengzi to come inside.

First, there was no need. Second, for this kind of matter, having Zhuchengzi accompany him closely would no longer be simply “borrowing a temple and the statues within it to make a report to the gods”, it would turn into something else entirely.

When others receive you with warmth and sincerity, you must not act with hidden malice. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ nοvelfire.net

By the light of the candles, he slowly looked around at the statues, noting who was present and who wasn’t, and which deities he’d need to visit in other temples. Once he had a clear count in his mind, he selected three sticks of incense.

Each one of the row of divine statues before him was a powerful deity of the Heavenly Palace.

Among them were ancient and mighty gods. Some virtuous, while some not.

The Daoist took two steps back, circled the incense in the air once, then lit them. Gathering his mind and calming his breath, he spoke in a steady, resonant voice, “I, Song You, descendant of Hidden Dragon Temple, disciple of Daoist Duoxing, respectfully inform all deities present that the world moves forward, yet chaos reigns across the land. Demons, monsters, ghosts now roam unchecked, and Heaven and Earth teem with tangled and conflicting gods.

“In the heavens, there are many gods without virtue. They are lacking divine merit, yet still holding divine offices. Though appointed to their stations, they do not fulfill their duties. Worse, some even turn on the mortal realm, seeking incense offerings through harm and manipulation. These are now the root of earthly calamity, and the beginning of divine corruption.

“I will reforge Heaven's Ascension Path. From this day forward, no one shall ascend unless they possess true virtue, unless the will of the people and the power of faith gather behind them. Only those truly worthy shall become gods. This act aligns with the Heavenly Dao, and answers the hearts of the people.

“I ask that you, exalted deities, take heed and commit no acts that go against Heaven.”

His voice wavered through the hall like candlelight, drifting like the incense smoke. His voice rose and swirled upward toward the countless statues, then beyond the temple roof into the vast night sky, echoing through the Heavenly Palace.

This was a declaration that could shake Heaven and Earth, and it resounded across gods and men alike.

Outside the doors, Zhuchengzi, who had leaned in a little to listen, suddenly opened his eyes wide. With a start, he stumbled back several steps—thump, thump, thump—putting some distance between himself and the hall.

Though it wasn’t quite eavesdropping, he was still overwhelmed with regret. He shouldn’t have been standing so close.

He had, by accident, heard something mortals were not meant to know.

“...!” Inside the grand hall, divine light burst forth from several statues.

At once, some statues opened their eyes. They were looking down at the Daoist holding the incense with a calm and indifferent expression.

Once they confirmed he truly was a disciple of Hidden Dragon Temple, each statue, carrying different thoughts, slowly closed its eyes again and fell back into silence.

No one knew how many deities had descended in that moment, and no one knew how many deities were now watching. No one knew how many deities were already questioning and discussing the matter.

Some were shocked, while some were furious, and some were confused. Some seemed to have expected this, while some looked troubled.

Each bore a different expression.

The Daoist stood motionless in the center of the grand temple, where the candlelight glowed the brightest.

At his side was only a calico cat, its eyes also wide with awe while staring into the unseen void where ancient and mighty deities had gathered and now fixed their gaze.

But he did not move, nor did his heart.