Chapter 63: Facing Danger Part 1

Chen Ji had enough clues to speculate on many things, but without decisive evidence, he wouldn’t rush to conclusions. Nor would he lightly dismiss any suspicious possibilities.

Unconsciously, he stroked Xiangxiang’s soft fur, pressing himself as close as he could. It went on so long that it almost seemed like he wanted to peel the White Tiger’s pelt off and wear it himself.

The idea popped into Chen Ji’s mind abruptly. After a moment of silence, a faint smile curved his lips… Turning into a tiger didn’t sound bad at all, did it?

Tigers had it made—nationally protected animals. Out in the wild in a one-on-one, nothing to fear except guys with guns; if you couldn’t beat them, you could always run. Rule the mountains as king, hop village fences for snacks, and if push came to shove, land a cushy zoo gig with eight caretakers at your beck and call. Not a pipe dream.

He chuckled to himself—if he ever couldn’t afford to feed Xiangxiang and it got hurt, he’d slap a Profound Penetration Talisman on it and call the cops to cart it off to the zoo for some R&R.

The White Tiger felt Chen Ji’s constant fidgeting, the occasional nuzzles and cuddles. It must have truly scared him. It turned its head, pressing it into the crook of his arm. Chen Ji noticed and drew it closer into his embrace. Before long, he finally drifted off to sleep.

Daylight flooded in, and just as Chen Ji slept soundly, the System Cat jolted him awake: [Holy shit?! Holy shit?! What the hell happened to the master bedroom?! Chen Ji, Chen Ji, wake up! We’ve been robbed!]

Chen Ji’s eyes snapped open. His brain was still foggy, but he’d already grasped the System Cat’s words and replied: [Nah, Xiangxiang did that.]

System Cat: [No way, is it crazy? Smashing the window for no reason? Hold on—why don’t I remember this?!]

[Did those ghost bastards show up again? Did they block me out?!] Before the System Cat could finish, it kicked open the side bedroom door. It charged in and froze at the sight of Chen Ji snuggled up to the White Tiger, looking thoroughly debauched. [……? Did I interrupt something?]

Chen Ji’s lips twitched. “Scram.”

He was far too relaxed—even saying it aloud. The White Tiger had woken before the System Cat burst in. At his words, it glanced back at him. Chen Ji rubbed its ears. “Sleep some more, Guai Guai. I’ll make you breakfast.”

With that, Chen Ji hopped out of bed, scooped up the System Cat, slung it over his shoulder, and headed out. He even thoughtfully closed the bedroom door behind him for the White Tiger.

The White Tiger stared at the closing door for a long moment before lying back down. Its tail thwacked the bed in irritation.

Meanwhile, Chen Ji was back in the master bedroom. In the morning light after a full night, the damage was even more obvious. The two soundproof glass windows were toast—smashed right down the middle, aluminum frames bent every which way. They definitely needed replacing. The bed was worse: shattered glass and splintered wood everywhere, to say nothing of those massive paw prints smeared into a jumbled mess.

System Cat: [……Were you two that wild last night?]

[Get your mind out of the gutter.] Chen Ji flicked its head. [Something came after me last night. Xiangxiang saved me right on time.]

[Son of a bitch!] The System Cat swore. [What the hell is that thing? Chasing us into the temple over and over. Is the Mountain God here any good? Did It major in liberal arts or something?!]

There was a saying: a scholar up against a soldier has no chance to argue reason. The scholar—and by extension, civilized types promoting new virtues like Zhang Cheng or Black and White Impermanence—could leverage the Mountain God somewhat. It was a god, after all; people gave it some respect. But unreasonable intruders who just barged in? What could It do about them?

Chen Ji’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. [Don’t spout nonsense.]

No evidence? Better not say it aloud. What if it was an inside job?

Chen Ji gave the bedroom a rough tidying, leaving the rest to the cleaning robot. He whipped up a quick breakfast and carried it to the main hall.

The main hall doors stood slightly ajar—likely blown open by yesterday’s eerie gale. The statue came into view, draped in half a length of bright yellow silk. Its eyes, mottled and nearly shapeless, stared straight at Chen Ji. He arched a brow and grinned, striding in lightly. As he set the breakfast on the offering table, he muttered under his breath, “That wind yesterday must have disturbed you too, Grandpa Mountain Lord. All my fault—I didn’t lock the door tight… Next time, I’ll swap it for a sturdier one.”

Chen Ji pulled three sticks of incense from the holder, lit them, bowed three times, and stuck them in the burner. Then he clambered onto the altar, brushed the silk, and sighed. “Filthy with dust… Sorry about that, Grandpa Mountain Lord. I’ll get you a fresh piece in a bit.”

From behind the statue, Chen Ji fetched an oversized feather duster and went to work, brushing gently. Soft feathers glided over the statue as the young man’s face remained serene, his manner tender. When he looked up, his eyes brimmed with reverence and devotion. “The construction crew said the weather’s been crap lately. In a few days, once it clears and the exterior’s fixed, I’ll repaint your golden form.”

“Not sure if I’ll do it justice… Maybe I should call in a master. This statue of yours is three or five hundred years old at least—a real antique. Some expert’s bound to come.” Chen Ji caressed the statue’s right hand, resting casually on its knee, with great care—but only once before pulling back.

“Then I’ll throw a proper ritual for you. Lots of folks will come pray, and you’ll get heaps of incense fire.” Chen Ji kept dusting, his plans flowing seamlessly. “Kids these days love cute animals, and we’ve got tons here. I’ll film Second Master Huang, the Red Fox, and the rest… Yeah, title it ‘Cats of the Mountain Lord Temple’.”

“Once we’ve hooked enough fans, hype the Mountain Lord Temple. Half a year from now… Mid-Autumn Festival and National Day, prime tourist time. Quiet spot like ours, pitch it as ‘soul-cleansing, back-to-nature vibes’ to draw the right crowd for mountain getaways. Farm-style meals, rope in the villagers to help… Keep prices fair, make it Insta-worthy, and the visitors will flock.”

“Bit by bit, more people will come burn incense and kowtow. Plenty will pray sincerely for safety and health.” Chen Ji pictured those lively days ahead, eyes narrowed in a broad smile. “I might even get called ‘Master’ by then, folks begging fortunes… You’ll have to back me up, Grandpa Mountain Lord.”

“Shangyang Village will buzz, the Mountain Lord Temple too… Everything’s gonna turn around.” He set the duster aside, inspecting his handiwork. “Sound good, Grandpa Mountain Lord?”

Chen Ji burst out laughing at his own words. “Whatever—just sit tight.”

A mild spring breeze rippled through the hall. Chen Ji climbed down from the altar, dug out spare silk—a deep purple bolt embroidered with golden cloud motifs, opulent yet airy. He draped it over the statue with a clothes pole and lashed it down with rope, typhoon-proof. Only then did he scoop up the dusty yellow silk and depart.

A Mountain Lord that didn’t talk or cause trouble was the best kind.

If it ever started speaking for real, that would spell real headaches for Chen Ji.

—He’d turn it over to the state. Better left to the professionals.

The White Tiger had wolfed down its breakfast by then. Chen Ji, covered in grime with a stomach flattened by hunger, dumped the silk in a bamboo basket, washed up, and finally sat to eat. While munching, he phoned the contractor. Their remote spot left him slim pickings.

Either trek to town for custom windows now, shell out big for on-site install, or hand it off to the contractor to fix next visit up the mountain. Chen Ji picked the latter without a second thought.

Why? Custom jobs took a day or two anyway; the crew was due in five days. Three-day gap at most—and if fixed too quick, what excuse to bunk with Xiangxiang?

He nailed down the window specs fast—the contractor had all the measurements, no brainpower wasted. Breakfast done, Chen Ji instinctively craved a sun-soaked nap but sighed and hefted the basket instead, resigned.

No way the home washer could handle something that huge, no basin big enough either. Outside it was. “Guai Guai, mind taking me back to that water pool from before?”

The White Tiger eyed him quizzically, as if to ask why. Chen Ji nodded at the basket. “Too big for home washing. Not super dirty—just needs a soak.”

The back-mountain stream was little more than a ditch, barely knee-deep. He’d worry about rocks snagging threads. The old pool was deep—perfect for silk.

The White Tiger didn’t fuss. After yesterday, it had no intention of leaving Chen Ji’s side; an outing together suited it fine. It simply crouched, inviting him aboard.

The silver shadow vanished like the wind.

The System Cat sighed at the temple gate. Right then, Second Master Huang dropped from the rafters, fresh as if just arriving: [Oi! Mange-ball cat, where’s Chen Ji?]

Absent Chen Ji, the System Cat couldn’t parse a word. It cocked its head, all wide-eyed innocence. Second Master Huang glared a beat, then grumbled: [Damn it, forgot you can’t even understand talk!]

It prowled the temple—no sign of Chen Ji. Out and about again. Muttering a curse: [Can’t stay put for shit… Eh, whatever. Fate’s its own master.]

That was the line, but truth was, it had already put out the word.

Second Grandpa Huang couldn’t do much about those bigwigs, but as the old saying goes, it’s easy to meet the King of Hell but hard to shake the little imps. The established spirit beasts knew the score—with Grandpa Mountain Lord right there, they wouldn’t dare hassle Chen Ji. But those freshly minted little demons? That was a different story. Emboldened by their meager cultivation, they’d shove someone from behind, trip them up, or gang up to gobble down a human or two…

He’d already laid down the law: no little demons in the mountains were to mess with Chen Ji. If Chen Ji showed up, they had better scatter far and wide. Otherwise, they couldn’t blame Second Grandpa Huang for not holding back!