Chapter 72: A Benefactor?

Chang Xu nodded with difficulty under Chen Ji’s gaze.

Chen Ji knew he hadn’t guessed wrong. Chang Xu was like an important servant raised by the Mountain Lord. Though important, if that servant betrayed his country and defected to the enemy, he couldn’t possibly be spared. But if the servant still chose to remain by his side—and given the special nature of that ‘enemy’—then forgiveness wasn’t out of the question.

After all, what did a foolish mortal understand? He had simply been bewildered by another version of himself.

In the end, choosing him was akin to earning a merit badge—not the ugliest kind. That was from a human perspective. But set humanity aside, and pure self-interest still came into play.

After all, as the temple priest, he could repair the temple and recast the golden body. Wasn’t that useful?

Chen Ji suddenly laughed. He rolled onto his side in Chang Xu’s arms and hooked an arm around Chang Xu’s waist. “So, what now?”

Chang Xu said, “Your best option is to leave me.”

Chen Ji shot back, “No can do. I like you too much.”

A faint blush crept across Chang Xu’s jade-pale face. He turned his head aside, avoiding Chen Ji’s gaze. “I have no way to deal with It right now.”

Chen Ji toyed idly with the sash at Chang Xu’s waist and drawled, “You said ‘right now’… didn’t you?”

Chang Xu and the Mountain Lord were originally one entity, so of course he knew exactly where the Mountain Lord’s weaknesses lay. It was just that Chang Xu had no way to exploit them at present. He could wait it out—as long as he played along, the Mountain Lord had no intention of taking his life just yet. Time would come soon enough, wouldn’t it?

Chang Xu suddenly gripped Chen Ji’s shoulders and stared straight at him. “It’s extremely difficult. You’d die.”

He himself could distance himself from Chen Ji and the Mountain Lord Temple. For the time being, It could do nothing to him. He could ensure his own safety. But the moment he left Chen Ji’s side, Chen Ji’s life would be his own to fend for.

There was a playful edge to Chen Ji’s tone, but his resolve was ironclad. “Everyone dies eventually.”

“Tell me. What should I do?”

Chang Xu fell silent for a long moment before finally saying, “I was originally the white tiger of the mountains. Because of auspicious omens, I was granted a divine position. Gods differ from mortals—as long as even a single incense offering endures, a god lives on eternally.”

“Your grandfather managed to sustain it, barely. After his passing, the Mountain Lord Temple gradually fell into decline. It grew furious at the mortals’ irreverence, but I saw it as the natural order of heaven. Due to certain circumstances, we separated. Without a divine position, I cannot oppose It. And because It lost me, It can no longer manifest in the mountains with a mortal body…”

Chen Ji greatly appreciated moments like this, when someone laid bare their own vulnerabilities and saved him a ton of legwork. He said mildly, “So? Should I help you merge back into one with It, or wipe It out entirely and let you claim the divine position?”

“It’s not that simple,” Chang Xu replied. “It despises me utterly. It won’t take me back.”

Chen Ji stroked Chang Xu’s hair. How to put it—Guai Guai was a little naive. Who said merging had to be voluntary? They’d reached this point; force was obviously the way.

He continued to guide the conversation. “Is there any method to force It to reunite with you? Something like a god’s heart or an authority token? Or maybe a powerful magical treasure or weapon that could achieve the goal through some means?”

It was the classic trope from games and novels, so Chen Ji tossed it out casually.

At those words, Chang Xu gazed at him in puzzlement. “Such things exist?”

Chen Ji: “…”

Well, that settled it—apparently not.

A lump formed in Chen Ji’s throat. Games truly didn’t translate to reality. He’d have to explore on his own.

The next day, Qingjing sent Chen Ji a message to confirm the appointment time. After grabbing breakfast with Chang Xu, they headed to the temple. Out of respect, Chang Xu refrained from entering the City God Temple. Chen Ji went in alone, and the two parted ways there.

Qingjing was waiting at the entrance. When he saw the White Tiger turn and vanish into thin air, he remarked, “You really… dare to keep a tiger as a pet.”

Chen Ji shrugged. “I’ve told you—it was something I picked up. It was pretty badly injured at the time. If I hadn’t realized it was a great immortal, I would’ve called the Forestry Bureau for a rescue.”

Qingjing rolled his eyes. Once you recognized it as a great demon, wouldn’t any normal person run for the hills? Forget great demons—even an ordinary tiger: would a normal person approach to check if it was dead or alive? Not afraid of serving themselves up as a snack?

The bite force of an adult tiger could snap a human neck like it was a duck neck.

The two bantered as they stepped inside. Suddenly, Chen Ji stumbled over the threshold. Qingjing’s expression shifted in alarm as he quickly steadied him. Before he could speak, however, Chen Ji had already glanced over his shoulder.

The way Chen Ji ‘looked’ was too obvious. Qingjing peered behind them as well. There was nothing but the empty temple gate. Chen Ji asked, “Do you have door god images posted at the entrance?”

“No,” the Daoist replied. “But we do have a peach talisman hung up.”

Chen Ji smiled faintly. In his field of vision, two radiant divine generals stood guard at the temple door, treasures clutched in their hands. They stood tall and majestic, their fierce glares inspiring awe. Chen Ji was just an ordinary person, and awe was exactly what he felt. He slowly bowed in reverence. The two divine generals seemed to sense his aura and recognize him as no ghost or evil spirit, merely a mortal. Only then did they withdraw their gazes, their forms gradually fading from Chen Ji’s sight.

Seeing Chen Ji’s actions, how could Qingjing not understand? He gaped in astonishment. “You—you saw them?”

Chen Ji straightened up. “Yeah… probably mistook me because of all the demon aura clinging to me.”

“Nothing serious. They just gave me an extra glance—no malice.”

Qingjing’s face twisted in frustration. After stewing for a moment, he said, “So blindness has its perks? …Maybe you shouldn’t cure those eyes after all.”

A Yin-Yang Eye was already exceedingly rare—even Taoists who had cultivated for decades might never awaken one. Chen Ji had opened his through some trivial incident, and now it had evolved further. Blind? He navigated daily life without issue and could even see divine generals!

This went beyond a mere Yin-Yang Eye. This was a genuine Heavenly Eye Opening!

A Yin-Yang Eye merely perceived the yin and yang realms, but a Heavenly Eye beheld the heavenly realm.

Comprehending yin and yang had its external aids, but could one simply gaze upon divinities at will?

Chen Ji gripped Qingjing’s arm. “Mind leading me inside?”

Chen Ji was now convinced: Little Azure Mountain was truly a godforsaken backwater. Look at these divine generals—divinities too—and he’d locked eyes with them without issue, feeling only gentle radiance. Then compare to his own: glimpsed in dreams, two sentences from It and he was bleeding from every orifice; two touches and his skin and muscles cracked. Any longer, and he suspected he’d be reduced to a puddle of meat slurry.

“Aren’t you able to walk on your own?” Qingjing asked.

“The temple’s too bright,” Chen Ji explained. “Everything smears together into a blur of gold and white.”

“What about me, then?”

Chen Ji examined him closely. “Gray. You’ve got maybe twenty years left before you kick the bucket.”

Qingjing was only thirty-three, but he looked quite a bit older purely because ascetics scorned worldly vanities and neglected their appearance. Twenty more years made him fifty-three—a young age for a Daoist. He tsked. “You’re full of shit!”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Chen Ji said with a laugh. “I don’t have any fortune-telling skills, after all. Could be a tribulation. Just cling to your master and grandmaster’s thighs when the time comes, and you’ll probably pull through.”

That finally soothed Qingjing’s irritation. If Chen Ji had insisted on a definite death in twenty years, he’d have let go right then and there—let the fool bash his head bloody.

As he opened his mouth to respond, an elderly man emerged from the inner hall. Raising his voice, he called out, “The young friend speaks true, Qingjing. You ought to thank him.”

Qingjing turned, ducking his head in an obsequious bow. “Grandmaster.”

The elder was none other than Qingjing’s grandmaster. Chen Ji turned as well and immediately noticed how strikingly vivid the lines around the old man were, even amid the temple’s glow. They radiated a vibrant green of teeming vitality, interspersed with threads of gold that outlined the kindly face of a bearded elder—an old immortal!

To Chen Ji, Qingjing had twenty years left, but this old Daoist seemed good for at least fifty—easily living past one hundred and twenty without strain.

The old Daoist stepped forward and saluted. “This poor Daoist is Su Lian.”

“Daoist Su Lian,” Chen Ji replied, bowing his head in respect. The old Daoist waved a hand to dismiss the formality and led them to a side chamber in the back.

After taking Chen Ji’s pulse, the old Daoist said, “Young friend, your eyes aren’t difficult to heal. It all depends on how you wish to proceed.”

Chen Ji wasn’t one for lies. “These eyes have been a huge help to me. I’d like to use them to learn a few more things… but they do need curing. Ideally, not for another month or two.”

He’d studied the Five Thunder Talisman for ages without success, only to master it once his sight failed. Chen Ji considered his talent average. With an opportunity like this, how could he not make the most of it and learn as much as possible in the interim?

The old Daoist chuckled genially. “If your affinity with them hasn’t run its course, then there’s no need to heal them at all.”

Qingjing started to protest, but the old Daoist waved him off and even shot him a glare. Qingjing fell silent. The old Daoist continued, “Young friend, fate has brought us together. Would you allow me to divine a reading for you today?”

Chen Ji naturally agreed. The old Daoist pinched his fingers and calculated for a moment before saying, “Young friend, your future holds layer upon layer of deadly tribulations. Head east, and you may encounter a benefactor’s aid—a slim thread of survival.”

Chen Ji bowed his head. “My thanks, Daoist.”

“No need for politeness.” The old Daoist turned to Qingjing. “Qingjing, take the young friend out for a stroll.”

That was his way of closing the door to visitors. Chen Ji stood up politely, fished his phone out of his pocket, and asked Qingjing to scan the code for payment. But the old Daoist waved it off. “No need,” he said. “This divination is my gift to you, young friend. I won’t take your money.”

After thanking him, Chen Ji followed Qingjing out. He turned to Qingjing and said, “Have you scan eight-eight-eight for your master ancestor on my tab?”

“Didn’t you hear him say no charge?” Qingjing replied.

“But isn’t it rude not to pay?” Chen Ji hesitated.

Taking advantage of the fact that Chen Ji couldn’t see him clearly, Qingjing rolled his eyes vigorously. “Is there any chance that we’d consider money from someone on the verge of death anything but bad luck?”

“. . . Fine,” Chen Ji said.

Qingjing helped Chen Ji sit down in the courtyard. It was the most comfortable time of day, with the spring breeze mingling with the spring scenery, leaving one utterly intoxicated. Chen Ji squinted in the sunlight, his whole body going soft. Propping his cheek on his hand, he asked Qingjing, “The Daoist said I’d meet a noble person to the east . . . East? Should I just head east when I leave?”

Coming down the mountain this time had been easy enough, but he had no idea what would happen once he went back up.

“Do you eat vegetarian?” Qingjing asked. “. . . Oh, whatever. Head east, then. There’s a nice little eatery just east of the entrance. You’ll know it when you see it—they’ve got Guanyin enshrined right there in the house. You should be able to spot it.”

Chen Ji nodded and took his leave. The moment he stepped out of the Daoist temple, his vision cleared up considerably. Seeing that he was walking steadily, Qingjing didn’t bother to escort him.

After a short walk, Chen Ji spotted the place Qingjing had mentioned, the one with Guanyin. It was impossible to miss—the entire eatery was bathed in a layer of holy light!

He was just about to go in when a familiar voice called out. “Hey! Aren’t you that guy?”

Chen Ji paused and looked up. He saw lines that were bright and lively, tinged with purple. Probably a young man. Could this be his noble person?

They always said purple was the color of nobility. Had to be, right?

The other fellow pulled out his phone, checked something on it, and peered at Chen Ji. “You’re Chen Ji, right?”

Chen Ji nodded. In the next instant, the young man said, “That’s him! Come on, take him away!”

Two burly men immediately stepped forward, one on either side, and said to Chen Ji with utmost courtesy, “Sir, our young master would like a word. Please come with us.”