Chapter 85

This whole situation was downright baffling. Even the City God, whom they worshipped day in and day out, was someone they wouldn’t dare boss around on a whim. They only burned incense and filed complaints when they were truly at their wits’ end, drowning in unimaginable grievances.

Daoist Qingjing stewed in frustration for a full three minutes before a spark of realization lit up his mind—he got it!

The City God Temple had twenty-two resident priests and five visiting ones, making twenty-seven in total. Meanwhile, the Mountain Lord Temple up on the hill had just Chen Ji as its sole attendant. The villagers only stopped by to light incense when they passed through.

Rarity makes things precious—what’s rare is valuable. Never mind devotees; even parents didn’t dote on kids equally if there were too many. Remembering their names was achievement enough! And it wasn’t like there was only one temple worshipping the City God. But Little Azure Mountain truly had just this one shrine for the Mountain Lord!

In a way, Chen Ji was like an only child… Ugh, best not to compare.

Meanwhile, Chen Ji rattled off the medicines he roughly needed. Use it or lose it, right? The Mountain Lord ate and drank his offerings all the time, so bringing back some herbs shouldn’t be an issue. After all, Little Azure Mountain spanned a massive range, most of it untouched wilderness. Chen Ji refused to believe there weren’t any good remedies hidden away.

Chen Ji looked at Daoist Qingjing. “So, what’s the plan? Stay here for a meal, or head back to town right away? If it’s dinner, we’ve got ginseng bamboo fungus stewed chicken. I can throw in a few extra drumsticks. Afterward, Second Grandpa can take the underworld path to send you back—or you could just crash here overnight.”

“No, no thanks.” Daoist Qingjing shook his head vigorously at the mere thought of staying the night. Who knew how many demons lurked in these mountains? Chen Ji might not fear them come sundown, but he sure did! “It’s getting late anyway. I’ll head straight back—no need for an escort. Just have someone familiar with the paths show me the way.”

“No need for that either.” Chen Ji jerked his chin forward. “The foreman’s crew will be clocking out soon. Hop on with them. You can even bum a ride on a motorcycle.”

“That works.” Blissfully unaware of Chen Ji’s ulterior motives, Daoist Qingjing agreed without hesitation. Heck, he even felt lucky—free motorcycle ride! That two-hour downhill trek would save a ton of energy on foot.

Daoist Qingjing suddenly remembered his master had told him to deliver something to Chen Ji. He rummaged in his satchel and pulled out a bundle wrapped in red cloth. “Here, take this.”

Chen Ji pocketed it without unwrapping. “Tell your master thanks when you get back.”

Daoist Qingjing felt a rush of satisfaction at Chen Ji’s straightforwardness. He appreciated straight shooters. All that false modesty—wanting it but pretending otherwise, pushing back three or four times before finally accepting—was just tiresome. Still, he paused. Chen Ji had accepted it awfully quick.

Almost like he knew Daoist Qingjing’s master would bring compensation.

Of course, that was exactly Chen Ji’s angle. After laying that curse, he had fully expected someone to swoop in and save the guy—and he hadn’t been lying back then either. Dead was best.

But if they got their comeuppance and he pocketed a favor in the process, that worked too. He could guess those old priests felt queasy even extending a hand to help, given the injustice. Since fairness was out the window, they owed the victim some recompense, right?

And since the victim was a fellow man of the cloth, plain cash wouldn’t cut it. They had to offer something fitting to shut him up.

He just hadn’t expected the connection to run so deep.

Chen Ji turned to Daoist Qingjing. “Take a chicken back with you, then. Authentic free-range—hard to come by.”

Daoist Qingjing nodded eagerly. “You got it! No need to stand on ceremony!”

They chatted a bit longer, mostly Daoist Qingjing sharing health tips with Chen Ji: Don’t leap out of bed first thing in the morning—linger a while. Do a set of the Five Animals Play at six a.m. or p.m. Get plenty of sun on your back…

Half an hour later, the foreman wrapped up the day’s work, gave Chen Ji a wave, and headed down the mountain with Daoist Qingjing in tow.

The red-furred fox darted out from the chicken coop, planting its front paws on Chen Ji’s knee. Chen Ji reached out and gave its ears a gentle, airy stroke, ruffling down from head to tail. With a light leap, the red-furred fox landed in his lap, nestling against him and letting out soft, pitiful mewls that were utterly adorable.

Chen Ji chuckled as he rubbed its head. “Chicken soup tonight. Want me to sneak you extra meat?”

“Mewl~” The red-furred fox stuck out its tongue to lick Chen Ji’s hand. He felt the tickle and grabbed its muzzle with a grin. “No licking.”

The red-furred fox nodded frantically, and Chen Ji let go.

Chen Ji headed to the kitchen to cook.

…

The night sky stretched clear and crystalline, a deep, transparent blue glittering with stars. As Chen Ji gazed upward, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind. His shoulder dipped under the weight of a head resting there, like someone leaning on him for comfort.

Yet Chen Ji couldn’t move. He could only blink; words wouldn’t come, let alone turning his head.

His waist was encircled. From the corner of his eye, Chen Ji caught a wisp of black mist drifting past—was it the Mountain Lord again?

He’d thought He would stay put in the statue… So He could come out?

Chen Ji kept his eyes open. He couldn’t see clearly, but closing them felt too helpless. He tried to relax his body. Time blurred—who knew how long passed—before he regained a sliver of control, slumping fully into the embrace of the figure behind him.

It was soft. Freezing cold, like lying on a waterbed.

Something crawled over his skin, inch by inch, slow and deliberate in its touch. Sometimes the black mist was nimble and sinuous, slipping lithely between his fingers. Other times, it felt like strong arms clamping him close, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

The black mist enveloped him entirely, chilling to the bone. But after a moment, Chen Ji realized it wasn’t as cold anymore—like his own warmth had seeped into it.

Soon enough, it wasn’t his imagination. He watched the black mist creep out from his sleeve, coiling up his arm. Solid as flesh, it wrapped his wrist and lifted it, tracing the blue veins toward his palm. It pried open his curled fingers, forming a hand that engulfed his own.

It even wiggled a couple times.

Like toying with a beloved plaything.

Possessive to the core, yet oh-so-careful not to break it.

Truth be told, Chen Ji could only see his hand’s lines morph into a blurry black tangle, so it didn’t disgust or scare him.

His lips felt a tentative brush from the black mist, which soon parted them and invaded his mouth. Cold and slick, it pressed against his tongue, caressing every inch of the cavern.

Suddenly, a sharp sting pierced his wrist. In the unseen spot, the mist’s tip sharpened into a needle, plunging in deep.

Chen Ji grunted. He felt the black mist burrow inside him, threading through his veins like icy medicine in a hospital shot—but lingering far longer.

He glanced down. Amid his own lines, a pure black thread had appeared. It entered at his wrist, snaking up his meridians. He saw it reach his upper arm, cross his shoulder—next stop, his organs. Where was He headed?

A coolness seeped into Chen Ji’s chest. At first, a faint tickle at his heart. He endured it, and the mist stroked harder, turning itch to pure comfort. Before he could exhale in relief, the sensation exploded into violent scratching. Just before a pained groan escaped, his chest went ice-cold—like the black mist had swaddled his heart. No more itch, only bone-deep ease and pleasure.

Chen Ji’s thoughts drifted lazily: What’s this about now?

He’d bet on not dying, and the Mountain Lord clearly wasn’t trying to kill him. So what was the point?

—He still preferred Xiangxiang.

It hadn’t even been two full days apart, and he already missed him. Was Xiangxiang eating well out there? Sleeping okay? Did anyone make him fruit puree or groom his fur?

Well… if he took human form, probably not.

What kind of bow tie should he buy Xiangxiang? Not too big—he suited an ascot better, paired with paws tucked politely. If he turned human, though, an ascot with short sleeves would look weird… A collar?

Would a collar be stranger?

Hmm… Worth a try?

A faint smile tugged at Chen Ji’s mind, but before it reached his lips, his heart clenched like a fist had seized it. No pain, just profoundly weird—like it might slip free from his chest that instant.

The next moment, Chen Ji jolted awake. He’d dozed off in the courtyard, a blanket draped over him. Second Master Huang lounged on the rooftop ahead, bathing in moonlight, while the red-furred fox stirred at his movement, blinking up at him in confusion.

The system cat had been napping nearby, but the red-furred fox shamelessly claimed the spot, curling on Chen Ji’s legs.

Thump, thump, thump…

His ears rang with his racing heartbeat. His mouth was parched, like he’d gone ages without water. He nudged the red-furred fox aside, staggered to the well, and drew some up to drink.

The cool water soothed his throat, and Chen Ji felt steadier. Sitting by the well to catch his breath, he peered down at himself once recovered. His lines had shifted from deep gray to pale gray, with many restored to white.

No more death qi.

Chen Ji rubbed his eyes, vision blurring—this lines thing sharpened when his health tanked.

So now it meant he was on the mend?

Second Master Huang hopped down from the roof, eyes gleaming. 【How’s it going?! Feeling better?】

Chen Ji scooped Second Master Huang into his arms. “Second Grandpa, I’m puzzled… If the Mountain Lord’s willing to heal me, why doesn’t He just show up? It’s always through dreams…”

Second Master Huang rolled his eyes at him: “Didn’t you meet last time? What was the result?”

Almost turned into meat paste.

Chen Ji sighed, “I really want to see the Mountain Lord with my own eyes…”

Second Master Huang: 【Just keep working hard on your cultivation too—once you can handle that level, you’ll be able to see it with your own eyes.】

Chen Ji: “Then why can I look at Blue-Clothed with my eyes? It seems like there’s no problem at all?”

【……】Second Master Huang looked toward the main hall with a somewhat mysterious expression, then made a pinky gesture with his little paw.

Why? Because He can’t perform, duh.