Ning Caichen

Zhao Fengnian paused for a moment and asked him where he was going.

Mingxin looked up towards Laoshan and said that his evil senior brother was still missing outside. The sect leader had sent him down the mountain so that he could deal with these matters in the mortal world in time.

The City God is still investigating the clues about the drought demon, but my senior brother is also a master of illusion, so there are other potential dangers besides the drought demon. The Illusion Moon Mirror has a wide enough range of communication, so he can transmit any news to the mirror immediately, but when it comes to finding someone, I still have to go in person.

Liu Jin nodded and took out the black-sheathed short sword given to him by the City God from his sleeve, handing it to him.

Mingxin took the short sword, his fingers gently tracing the scabbard. The half-inch of the blade, marked with inscriptions, gleamed briefly in the morning light before disappearing. He sheathed the sword, looked up at Liu Jin, and smiled, saying that after staying at the Sanyi Temple for so long, he had learned the importance of self-preservation.

Although his spirit was strong, his vital energy still needed time to recover. He couldn't confront people head-on and wouldn't fight them. He slowly and deliberately said, waving his crescent-shaped fan, that he would specialize in the "Way of Deception" in the future.

The moment those three words were uttered, the courtyard fell silent for a moment. Then Liu Jin laughed, Zhao Fengnian laughed, and Mingxin laughed as well. Three people from the same era, in this secluded mountain temple in another world, shared the same understanding of the term "the Way of the Dead."

Mingxin waved her crescent-shaped fan and walked towards the courtyard gate. When she reached the gate, she looked back at the meditation room where she had stayed for the past few days, and gently patted the door frame, as if saying goodbye to an old friend.

He gently waved the crescent-shaped fan in his hand, and a faint fragrance of osmanthus drifted through the courtyard. He turned and stepped into the morning light, his figure in a gray Taoist robe gradually disappearing into the depths of the pine forest.

Zhao Fengnian watched him walk away, wiped his nose, and said that with Daoist Xindao's departure, Sanyi Temple had lost one more person to eat.

Liu Jin didn't reply, but just nodded slightly in the direction Mingxin left. The fragrance of osmanthus emanating from the crescent moon fan still lingered in the courtyard. In the depths of the pine forest, a faint moonlight flickered, as if Mingxin had turned back to look at him from afar, or as if he was using illusion to say goodbye.

......

"You scoundrel! Master Mingxin, you are a true successor of the Laoshan lineage, how come you learned some Earth-specific vocabulary and then ran away!"

"What is the essence of the Way of the Dead? Fight if you can win, run if you can't, hide if you can't run, and play dead if you can't hide. Mingxin has been playing dead in the illusion for so many years, he is indeed very experienced in this regard."

"The way he waved his fan while saying that was so irritating. One side was like the waxing and waning of a moon, the other like a mountain stream, he was spouting nonsense while holding that ethereal crescent-shaped fan. Was he trying to be a hermit or just pretend to be one?"

Liu Jin: I'm not being cowardly, I'm just using a low-key tactic. Zhao Fengnian: Then why did you refine a stealth-type magic weapon? Liu Jin: ..."

"However, Mingxin's trip down the mountain was truly for important business. The clues about the drought demon are still being investigated, and the whereabouts of that corpse-training senior brother are unknown. The sect leader of Laoshan sent him down the mountain to keep an eye on this lead. He went out with the Crescent Moon Fan and the City God Sword, and his combat strength is more than twice as strong as when he was trapped in the stone house back then."

......

After autumn arrived in Jinhua Prefecture, several rains fell, each one colder than the last. The Sanyi Temple, newly established, saw its disciples diligently meditating, gathering moonlight, and practicing the Fire-Nourishing Scripture, their days peaceful and routine. Occasionally, wandering spirits would cause disturbances down the mountain, and Zhao Fengnian would take his three children to deal with them.

Li Zhitui was in charge of observing the monster's tracks, Li Zhiruo was in charge of calming the frightened people, and Li Zhiwei was in charge of peeking out from behind his brother. After returning, he would vividly recount to Old Chen, "My brother just slapped it with one palm."

Old Chen and Crow had also gone on several missions alone. One time, a wandering soul that had made its home in an abandoned granary in the east of the city was discovered by Crow. Old Chen used the breathing technique of the Fire Condensation Scripture, along with a few words of the Soul-Soothing Incantation he had learned from Zhao Fengnian, and without using any offensive means, he made the wandering soul dissipate its resentment and drift into the City God Temple to be settled.

The reputation of Sanyi Temple gradually spread, but with fame came great troubles. Every few days, worshippers would come knocking on the temple gate with incense, candles, and paper money, saying they wanted to worship the gods.

Zhao Fengnian always politely turned people away, saying that Sanyi Temple only worships Heaven and Earth, not gods and immortals, and does not accept incense money.

When this story reached Jinhua City, it became increasingly outrageous. Some said that Sanyi Temple was a cult, some said that the abbot was a madman who did not believe in gods, and others said that this was the true path, and that no god was as great as heaven and earth.

When the temple keeper of the City God Temple heard about it, he just smiled and didn't explain. He had personally witnessed Liu Jin using the lights of ten thousand homes to fight the Black Mountain Demon on the top of Black Mountain. It wasn't strange that someone who could gather the lights of ten thousand homes didn't worship gods.

The people from the escort agency had also seen Zhao Fengnian's dragon scales, so they dared not speak carelessly for a moment, fearing that the more they spoke, the worse it would become.

The elders of the Li family were worried, but the younger members were not allowed to interfere, for fear of causing trouble. One of the more robust elders climbed halfway up the mountain and took a look from afar. Seeing the three little ones playing and frolicking, and walking with unusual strength, he was relieved and went back to report that they were safe.

Upon hearing this, Liu Jin became even less inclined to care. Zhao Fengnian wanted to explain, but seeing that Liu Jin and his disciples didn't seem to care, he gave up the idea. The three little ones simply didn't understand, believing that their master was definitely right. The two beasts were even less understanding, and Old Chen, used to the gossip in the village, also followed Liu Jin's arrangements.

That afternoon, the sky darkened again. Zhao Fengnian had just brought the herbs that had been drying in the yard into the kitchen when large raindrops began to fall.

The rain was torrential, pattering loudly on the roof tiles. The vegetable garden in the corner of the yard was splashed with mud and water, and a white mist rose from the pine forest.

In the midst of the rain and mist, a scholar in a tattered blue robe, his head covered by his sleeve, trotted along the mountain path, stumbling as he approached the gate of the Sanyi Temple and knocked on it three times.

Old Chen put on a raincoat and went to open the door. The scholar standing at the door was soaked to the bone, his blue shirt covered in mud, and his book box on his back was wrapped tightly in oilcloth.

His lips were white from the cold, but he still bowed respectfully before speaking. He said his surname was Ning, and that he had been delayed in Jinhua City and missed the ferry to Lanxi. He had originally planned to take a shortcut over the mountains, but he had encountered this heavy rain and was now in dire straits. He asked if he could rest here for a while and would leave once the rain stopped.

Old Chen welcomed him in, poured him a pot of hot tea, lit a small stove, and gave him a clean cloth. The scholar surnamed Ning quickly thanked him and began to tidy himself up.

Zhao Fengnian was just coming out of the kitchen when he heard the word "Ning," so he glanced at him again and then looked back at Liu Jin, who was sitting on a bamboo chair at the entrance of the main hall. Liu Jin did not look at the scholar, but looked at the mountain path outside the courtyard gate.

Sure enough, not long after, before the scholar surnamed Ning had even dried himself off, another figure appeared in the rain. A burly man, carrying a long sword wrapped tightly in animal hide on his shoulder, strode to the courtyard gate, pounded on the door twice, and spoke in a voice louder than the rain.

He said his surname was Yan, he was a martial artist, and he had missed the ferry and wanted to come in to rest.

Liu Jin rubbed his forehead and sighed softly. Lately, rumors about the Sanyi Temple had been circulating down the mountain, and he'd been too lazy to have his disciples clarify things. This man surnamed Yan probably wasn't just here for a short rest.

Zhao Fengnian suppressed a laugh, turned around to open the door, and muttered to himself, "Now everyone's here."