Chapter 675: Chapter 675

"Many thanks for your guidance, Mirror Goddess." The Daoist bowed respectfully to the Mirror Island Lake Goddess. "I’ve imposed upon you long enough, and it’s time I took my leave."

"Many thanks for your guidance!"

The cat, who had been busy with something else, immediately turned her head at the Daoist’s words, as if some instinct deep inside her had been triggered, and echoed the words she’d just heard.

"It can’t be called guidance," the Mirror Island Lake Goddess replied with a slight pause, still watching the Daoist. "Merely an exchange between old friends. I have heard mortals speak of ‘using four taels to move a thousand catties,’ but it requires the utmost skill in applying force. Your current mastery cannot yet be called profound; you have learned but a single move, and your strength is weaker still. You must think carefully and choose your moment well."

"Thank you, Mirror Goddess."

The Daoist’s expression was calm as he replied, "Think of it merely as hosting an old friend. Since he is an old friend, I happen to have a deeply memorable experience that will be quite fitting to entertain him with."

"That would be best."

The Mirror Island Lake Goddess pursed her lips after speaking, choosing not to dwell further on the subject.

"We shall take our leave, then."

"We shall take our leave, then!"

"Safe travels, both of you."

She inclined her body in a bow to the Daoist, then, after a brief silence, perhaps recalling something, and added, "It seems the outside world is now at the turn from summer to autumn, the most beautiful time of year. I remember, years ago, when you and Lady Calico came here, you circled the lake and even slept upon it. Now that the same season has returned, and since you’ve been cooped up underwater for so long, you must be feeling a bit stifled. These past few months, you’ve been learning the art of dream-weaving in my dreams, no doubt you are also fatigued. Why not rent a covered boat, anchor upon the lake for a day, or find a dense patch of reeds by the shore, sleep an autumn night, and then depart?"

"Another autumn already?"

"Indeed," the Mirror Island Lake Goddess said. "And the weather is just right today. It’s not cloudy, not glaring."

"If that’s the case, then after leaving, it would indeed be worth strolling along the lakeshore, relaxing, and enjoying the scenery before setting off." The Daoist knew the scenery around Mirror Island Lake was second to none, no less than the peaks of Yunding Mountain. But he also understood the Lake Goddess' underlying meaning, so he added, "However, time is short, and it wouldn’t be wise to linger too long. Let’s forgo anchoring and autumn sleeping."

"You’ve already stayed here three months, Daoist Master. Why be in such a hurry over a single day?"

The Mirror Island Lake Goddess' tone and expression were both calm. “It so happens that I, as the Lake Goddess, have not set foot on shore for many years. I have long since forgotten what it feels like to walk amid the autumn scenery along the shore, and it has been just as many years since I last anchored a boat in the lake. If you feel that boating alone would be dull, and if you would be willing to accompany an old friend on an outing, I can have my maids bring a painted pleasure boat, it would also serve as a farewell gift to you.”

“Mirror Goddess, you reside in the lake. If you wished to boat upon it or stroll along the shore, could you not do so at any time?”

“My cultivation is shallow, and my divine power weak. I am at my safest within the lake. Once on land, my magic diminishes sharply. In peaceful times there are nobles and officials, generals and soldiers; in troubled times there are demons, ghosts, and heretical sects. Whatever I might encounter, it would be difficult to escape easily. With such concerns, how could I truly enjoy myself? So I simply do not go. If the Daoist were to accompany me, then I could feel at ease.”

One could hardly be more forthright than this.

Yet after some thought, the Daoist still declined politely. “I appreciate your kindness. Should I have another opportunity, I will certainly return to pay you a visit, then we can roam the waters and the lakeshore together as old friends.” ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ nοvelfire.net

The Mirror Island Lake Goddess shook her head, bowed once more, and said, “Take care, Daoist Master.”

“And you as well, Mirror Goddess.”

The Daoist returned the bow with equal solemnity.

“Take care, Mirror Goddess!” The cat also gave her a bow.

Mist rose, ripples spread, and in the next moment, man and cat were upon the lake. It truly was another autumn.

Along the shore, the reeds had already sprouted snow-white plumes, looking fluffy and soft, all leaning in the same direction under the wind. From afar, they resembled a vast carpet of fur.

The yellow earthen path by the lake was dry, half-blocked by fallen reeds, yet no one came to cut or prop them up. They were left to adorn the road beneath Yunding Mountain and beside Mirror Island Lake, overgrown with wild grass here and there.

It was a fine day of scattered fish-scale clouds across the sky, the sun casting a mottled play of light and shadow upon the ground and the lake, dreamlike in beauty. One could bask in the sun without feeling scorched, with a steady breeze to cool the skin. To walk such a lakeside path in this weather brought a natural sense of ease and comfort.

All the more so for a Daoist who had spent three months underwater.

Carrying a satchel and leaning on his staff, the Daoist walked on.

The cat crawled along slowly behind, glancing around as she went, stopping now and then to look more closely.

“There’s maojuzi again!”

“Maojuzi should all die!”

“They die in autumn.”

“They’ll grow again next year!”

“All things have their right and reason to exist.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Not just maojuzi, there’s cang’erzi too.”

“Ah! There really is!”

The cat was instantly aghast, practically itching to spit a mouthful of fire to burn them all, or transform into a human, grab a stick, and beat them to death.

“Do you remember before?”

“I remember many ‘befores.’”

“The first time we came here, at the turn of summer to autumn in the second year of Mingde, we walked along the lakeshore just . We lingered a year on the mountain, and in the third year of Mingde, again at the summer-autumn turn, we slowly walked along Mirror Island Lake . The roadside was the same,and the reeds were in full bloom, white and fluffy.”

“…” The cat froze for a moment at his words, looking up at him, then slowly crawled forward to catch up.

“I think I remember…”

“It’s been exactly eighteen years and seventeen years.”

“Eighteen years, seventeen years!” The cat’s eyes opened wide. “That sounds like a long time!”

“Lady Calico, we should head east.”

“The Boundless Mountain.”

“But it’s going to get dark soon!”

“Exactly, then we can find a place to rest for the night.”

That afternoon, the lake surface was calm beyond compare, like a perfect mirror, reflecting the island and the clouds above. A huge celestial crane spread its wings and glided gracefully across the lake, its reflection rippling gently in the water below.

Without realizing it, night had fallen.

In the mountains, where the wind whistled through the passes, there stood a dilapidated temple.

Several neatly cut square stones had been stacked into a makeshift stove. Firewood burned within, snapping and popping, and the glow of the flames leaked through the gaps, casting flickering light across the cracked temple walls. The sound of burning wood and the warmth radiating from it were deeply comforting, especially with the wind howling outside.

A small pot rested over the fire, bubbling thickly.

A faint fragrance of fermented rice wine drifted out, mingled with a rich sweetness. Amid the rolling bubbles, one could see tiny round dumplings about the size of a pinky fingertip, along with a few red dates and goji berries, adding splashes of color.

The cat lay curled beside the firelight, sleeping peacefully.

The Daoist sat cross-legged against the wall, holding in his hand a dried cang'erzi gone yellow with age. Starting from the top of the cat’s head, he carefully placed it down the back of the neck, along the spine, and finally to the tail, one after another, forming a straight line.

The cat twitched its nose, opened its eyes, lifted its head, and glanced at the little rice dumplings simmering in the pot. Then it turned to look at the Daoist.

“Is it not ready yet?” As soon as it spoke, it felt something was off.

It twisted around to look at its own back.

The cat leapt up as though facing a mortal enemy.

Landing on the ground, it stared at the line of cang'erzi along its back, then turned to the Daoist, only to see him holding yet another burr, leaning over as if to stick it on. The cat instantly jumped again, putting more distance between them.

“What are you doing-meow?”

The cat fixed him with a sharp stare as it spoke.

The Daoist smiled faintly, set down the cang'erzi in his hand, then picked up a ladle from beside him, stirred the pot once, and said to her, “It’s ready to eat.”

The cat froze on the spot.

She looked at the sweet fermented rice dumplings he had scooped into her exclusive little bowl, each dumpling about the size of a droplet, carrying an almost “custom-made just for her” kind of cuteness, looking delicious. Then, she turned her head to look at the long string of mortal enemies still clinging to her back. For the first time in her life, Lady Calico felt truly torn.

No one knew how much time passed. The flames still burned, sending their glow flickering against the crumbling temple walls, shadows swaying in the dim light.

Outside, the wind sounded even more shrill and eerie.

Lady Calico finally managed to rid herself of all the cang'erzi, and finally finished her bowl of sweet rice dumpling soup. Clean again, her belly warm and full, with firelight glowing and the Daoist nearby, life felt like absolute bliss for a cat.

Now she lay on her back on the ground beside the fire. When the Daoist reached toward her with a cang'erzi, she lifted a paw high and gave his hand a series of quick, small pats, as though play-fighting with him.

A raindrop fell. There was a faint sound of movement outside.

The cat stopped, rolled over, and sprang to her feet. She stopped playing with the Daoist, walked quickly a few steps toward the door, away from the fire, and peered outside. After a long moment, she turned back.

“It’s raining outside.”

“There seems to be a monster in the mountains.”

“I think the temple is leaking.”

The cat sat down where she was, back to the Daoist, facing the rain outside. She fell quiet all of a sudden, her mood shifting quickly.

She sat there for a long time before finally coming back and saying to the Daoist, “Before dinner just now, I had a dream. I dreamed about when we used to be by the lake.”

“The lake was about the same as today. We walked too, only farther. We circled the whole lake.” The cat told him, “But today there was no horse.”

“It’s already the autumn of the ninth year of Da’an. If nothing unexpected happens, in another year we should be able to return to the Daoist temple and see the horse again.”

“Since it’s raining today, will the horse get wet?”

“So that’s what you’re thinking about.” The Daoist smiled. “The horse is very clever; it will find shelter from the rain. Besides, just because it’s raining here doesn’t mean it’s raining in Yizhou. Like how it’s overcast here now, but when we set out from Mirror Island Lake, it was sunny.”

“In another year, we’ll be home-meow?”

That one word made the Daoist falter slightly. Would returning to Hidden Dragon Temple count as going home?

It wasn’t where he had come from.

The world he truly knew was much farther away; even a relatively similar world lay farther ahead in the future. And the very thing that made that temple feel like home had already left him.

It ought to count as a place of peace, and a place of peace could also be called home.

The Daoist stroked the cat’s back.

But the cat twisted her head around to check if he had a cang'erzi in his hand. Only after confirming he didn’t did she turn back, then use her object-moving spell to float all the cang'erzi lying near him straight into the fire. Only then did she look back at the Daoist with bright eyes, finally at ease.

A drop of water seeped through the roof and fell inside the temple.

“It really is leaking!”

“If we hadn’t left the lake today, we definitely wouldn’t be getting rained on now.”

If they had not left Mirror Island Lake today, they would either be sleeping on the shore amidst the boundless autumn scenery, or resting aboard a painted pleasure boat upon the lake. Either way, it seemed it would be better than this.

Yet it could not be so. If the Heavenly Palace truly was as Song You guessed, inviting the Emperor of the Void to step forward, and if the Emperor of the Void had indeed incarnated as four deities, then of the four—Illusion, Greed, Fear, and Dream—it was the Dream God who posed him the greatest threat.

If his calculations were right, then after hiding for a full three months in the lake, within the Mirror Goddess' dream, the Heavenly Palace had been unable to find him, and the Dream God had been unable to enter his dreams. If they had made their preparations before today, they should already have been searching for him for some time.

The Mirror Goddess truly had a certain chivalrous spirit.

By asking the Daoist to stay one night, she had likely meant to keep him at the lakeside of Mirror Island, relying on her mastery of dreamcraft either to lend him aid or to ensure that, should he be defeated, he would not die.

As for the reason, perhaps three months together beneath the lake had bred a touch of old-friend sentiment; perhaps after spending every day in each other’s company, she had come to see what sort of man Song You was; perhaps she believed what he had told her, willing to trust that he might truly have the means to prevent the drowning of infant girls from ever happening again.

In short, her intentions were good.

Yet though the Mirror Goddess' attainments in the Dream Dao ran deep, her own cultivation was shallow, her divine power meager and far inferior to the Dream God, and to most of the legitimate gods of the Heavenly Palace. How could he allow her to take such a risk herself?

“I am feeling drowsy…” The Daoist shook his head with a smile.

He slid down a bit, found a comfortable position, leaned against the ruined temple wall, and closed his eyes. It was an autumn chill night, and it was best to sleep in a leaky temple, listening to the rain, caring nothing for the wind outside, the patter of rain, or any monsters lurking beyond.

Another peal of thunder sounded.

Lightning split into countless forks, revealing the shape of the wind and rain, turning the whole sky a blinding white and casting the mountains into stark silhouette.

The ruined temple stood alone in the wind and rain.