The three ate breakfast outside the temple fair. Chaosheng devoured a large bowl of snow-white noodle soup loaded with tender lamb, while Xiang Xian added two steamer baskets of vegetarian buns. Xiao Kun had almost no money left. He racked his brains but didn’t dare say it—couldn’t let an immortal like Chaosheng worry about funds. He figured in ten days or half a month, he’d need to find a way to get some money.
“Which deity is this temple dedicated to?” Chaosheng asked.
“The Main Hall is for Erlang Shen, and the back is for Li Bing and Son,” Xiang Xian said. “Guanjiangkou is Erlang Shen’s dojo. Wait, Xiao Kun, look.”
Xiao Kun: “What?”
Xiang Xian raised his brows at Xiao Kun, directing his gaze to a certain spot at the temple fair stalls. Xiao Kun glanced over.
“Monsters?” Xiang Xian asked.
“Yes.” Xiao Kun confirmed.
Though the demonic aura was faint and fleeting, they had sensed it—and not just from one place. Demons were active at the temple fair. Though Xiang Xian was an exorcist, he didn’t catch every demon he saw. Demons had good and evil too. As long as they didn’t harm mortals, exorcists wouldn’t go out of their way to trouble them. Everyone was a cultivator, and over three hundred years ago, the Grand Demon-Exorcist had made a pact with the Demon King for humans and demons to coexist as best they could.
Xiao Kun hesitated for a moment, but Xiang Xian pulled him along, signaling to ignore it for now.
Chaosheng entered the Main Hall. Incense was thriving that day. They shuffled along with the worshippers, shoulder to shoulder. Passing the Merit Box, Xiang Xian said to Xiao Kun again, “Big Brother, give some money.”
Xiao Kun had been bracing for this. He had zero interest in donating merits and had prepared words to shut Xiang Xian down. Otherwise, at his spending rate, they’d be begging on the way back to Chengdu after this trip to Guanjiangkou.
Xiao Kun: “Will donating fulfill my wish?”
Xiang Xian: “Doesn’t look like it. That’s a grand wish.”
“Then why should I donate to the temple?” Xiao Kun said. “Better to rely on myself than the gods.”
“Does Big Brother have a wish?” Chaosheng reached to pull Xiang Xian, who draped an arm over his shoulder to keep him from getting lost. As Xiao Kun watched their closeness, Chaosheng smiled at him too.
Xiao Kun felt a hand touch his fingers. Thinking it was Chaosheng, his heart stirred at the long, slender fingers and broad palm. But in a blink, he realized it was Xiang Xian!
Xiao Kun was instantly mortified and shook off his hand.
Xiang Xian, unperturbed, said, “He naturally wants to restore Great Liao.”
Leaving the front hall, Xiao Kun headed to the back hall. He heard Chaosheng say, “Big Brother, that’s not something you can do. Nations have their own fate. Don’t meddle.”
Xiao Kun sighed inwardly without responding.
“Whether you can do it is one thing; not trying is another,” Xiang Xian said seriously for once, explaining to Chaosheng. “If someone gives you a drop of water, you repay with a spring. Xiao Kun was raised under the Yelu Family’s care. If Yelu Hongji hadn’t saved him, he wouldn’t even be in this world. From childhood to now, he received help—his master taught him literature and martial arts; food, clothing, shelter—all tied by karma and fate. He wants a carefree life too, but he can’t just think of himself, right?”
“Sorry.” Chaosheng was young and naive to worldly affairs, but not stupid. After hearing it, he understood and immediately apologized to Xiao Kun.
Xiao Kun hurriedly said, “No worries,” and explained, “It’s fine. In the mortal world, bonds come with responsibilities. Bonds are beautiful, and responsibilities must be shouldered. You’ll understand in time.”
Chaosheng nodded as if he half-grasped it.
Xiang Xian added, “Besides, everyone has their own path and burdens. Chaosheng, we really envy you—no ties. That’s nice.”
Hearing this, Xiao Kun felt an unprecedented surge of emotion. He never expected Xiang Xian to be the one who understood him.
He stopped, wanting to hear more, but Xiang Xian acted as if nothing happened. He took Chaosheng’s hand and slung an arm over Xiao Kun’s shoulder. They were of similar height, and Xiao Kun felt a bit awkward, but this time he didn’t push him away. The three entered the back hall.
Fewer people were in the back hall. Up the stone steps was a secluded courtyard halfway up the mountain, the Erwang Temple daoist’s cultivation ground. From the midway steps, the waters of Dujiangyan roared eastward—a magnificent sight.
At the entrance to the back mountain courtyard stood a paifang with a statue of Yang Jian inside and a Merit Box in front.
Xiao Kun stood for a moment, untied his money pouch, and decided to offer a few coins for peace of mind.
The copper coins clinked in. Xiang Xian watched, then suddenly reached out. “Wishing something that big with just two coins? Not enough.”
Xiao Kun hadn’t guarded against Xiang Xian’s sudden move, nor expected him to dump the entire pouch of loose silver inside with lightning speed.
“That’s all our traveling money!” Xiao Kun roared.
Xiang Xian: “Now that’s right.”
“Right for what?” Xiao Kun said incredulously. “We haven’t even settled the inn bill!”
Chaosheng: “Ah…”
Xiang Xian: “We’ll figure something out later. Don’t be so tense.”
Chaosheng: “So……if we have no money, we can’t buy anything else? Just take it out.”
Xiao Kun: “Chaosheng! Don’t loot the Merit Box!”
Amid the chaos, the Daoist abbot of the temple emerged. Chaosheng’s hand was stuck in the Merit Box, and a group of Daoists stared in stunned silence at the three outside the archway.
One incense stick’s time later:
“Immeasurable blessings.” The abbot, named Lingqing, was quite mild-mannered. He was Daoist Xu Yan’s chief disciple and around sixty years old. After Xiang Xian explained their purpose, he promptly ordered the Daoists to serve tea, while a group of young attendants applied fragrant oil to help pull Chaosheng’s hand free.
“Our master passed away years ago,” Lingqing explained. “We’ve waited quite some time, and Chengdu has finally sent someone.”
