The old man glanced at Yun Jiao’s serious expression. She didn’t look like she was joking at all, and his imagination began running wild. Was the girl implying that the ghost named Su Niang had run away in life because she knew someone wanted to harm her child, so she had no choice but to flee?
And this wasn’t her first child? That meant the Li family had other children before. Yet in that courtyard, aside from the three Lis, they hadn’t seen any trace of children. Could it be…
The old man shuddered and edged closer to Yun Jiao, his face horrified. “Girl, are you saying the Lis… eat children?!” In this world, aside from ghosts, there were man-eating demons too. Could those three be like that?
Yun Jiao: “…”
What nonsense was that? Where did this logic even come from?
She rolled her eyes, not bothering to answer, and strode quickly up the mountain.
“Hey! Girl, wait for me!” Explain yourself, damn it!
White Yu immediately rushed after her. Demons were far scarier than vengeful ghosts!
Perhaps spurred by his own terrifying speculation, the old man practically flew on the way back. The trip that had taken them two hours before was halved this time. The moment he stepped back through the temple gates, he collapsed to the ground. No longer caring about his cultivated “immortal” appearance, he plopped down and panted like a dog, looking every bit like a man who had barely survived a calamity.“Finally back. Safe at last.”
Yun Jiao gave him a look and reminded him, “On the fifteenth of the seventh month, that ghost will return.”
The old man, however, wasn’t worried at all. He waved dismissively. “Relax, girl. This is Qingyang Temple. The temple is blessed with the aura of heaven and earth. No matter how vicious, a vengeful ghost cannot step inside.”
So the temple itself had that effect? She suddenly remembered the strange mountain gales from a few days ago. They had deliberately avoided the temple as if kept at bay. Perhaps it was true. No wonder he had rushed back in such a panic.
“Right, girl!” The old man suddenly shot up like a corpse jolted awake. “Quick, quick, quick! There’s still time!”
He hurried into the back hall, rummaged through a wardrobe, and after some digging pulled out a Daoist robe. He shoved it into her arms without explanation and pushed her toward the rear hall. “Go bathe and change, hurry!”
Yun Jiao looked down and realized it was a white Daoist robe, identical to the old man’s outfit—just smaller, clearly made for a woman.
When she came out dressed, he immediately dragged her along. “Come, quick! If it’s dark, it’ll be too late.”
Before she could even ask, he had already pulled her to the foot of the temple’s tallest tower. Yun Jiao turned to him, frowning. “Didn’t you say this tower was a forbidden place, not to be entered casually?”
This was the temple’s highest structure. When she had first arrived days ago, she’d thought about cleaning it, but the old man had stopped her, solemnly declaring that it housed their sect’s Patriarch and must not be disturbed.
“That was before.” He spoke solemnly now. “This morning, you agreed to join Qingyang. Naturally, this is no longer forbidden for you. I’ll take you to meet the Patriarch. Once you pay respects, you’ll be a true disciple of Qingyang.” He added as he led her inside, “Once you’ve bowed, you’ll officially be of my sect. You’ll inherit our secret arts, uphold the righteous way, and carry on Qingyang’s legacy.”
“…Is it too late to back out?”
White Yu, oblivious to her reluctance, pulled her up the stairs.
Inside, Yun Jiao quickly noticed this tower was nothing like the rest of the temple’s weathered, leaky, broken buildings. It was intact, as if recently built. Strange markings, like runes, were faintly carved into the walls and stairs, winding upward.
Also… wasn’t it a little too bright inside?
The tower had eleven stories. At the top, the air was heavy with incense smoke. The wide hall was nearly empty except for a single offering table. On it stood a spirit tablet inscribed in gold characters: Qingyang Guangji Heavenly Venerable. A bronze censer burned three sticks of incense, smoke curling into the air.
“Girl, this is our sect’s Patriarch,” the old man explained, gesturing to the prayer cushion before the altar. “Hurry, bow to him.”
He dropped to his knees on a cushion, bowing three times with utmost reverence. Then he raised his voice in formal declaration:
“White Yu, one hundred and eighth disciple of Qingyang, reports: I have found Yun Jiao, whose talent is extraordinary and whose spirit is aligned with the Dao. I wish to bring her into Qingyang’s lineage, to study our secret arts and uphold the righteous path. I beseech our Patriarch to bless her, grant her wisdom and clarity, and glorify Qingyang!”
After another three bows, he looked back—only to see Yun Jiao still standing stiffly, staring directly at the altar.
“Girl! Bow!” he hissed. “Legend says our Patriarch is strict about rules. You’re just entering—you must not be careless!”
Yun Jiao blinked, then finally turned her head toward him. Her face was as serious as ever. After hesitating, she asked, “What does your Patriarch look like?”
“Eh?” The old man was stunned. “How would I know?” Why ask that now?
“You don’t know what he looks like?” Yun Jiao pressed.
“Nonsense!” he snapped. “Our Patriarch founded the mystic sect and spread the arts across the world. He ascended to the Immortal Realm millions of years ago! Unless he manifests, who could possibly know what he looks like? Unless… ah, no!” He caught himself, hurriedly bowing again. “Forgive me, Patriarch! Of course, your form is divine and beyond mortal sight!”
Yun Jiao’s eyes grew darker. “So… does your Patriarch often manifest?”
“Hah! Dream on, little girl.” The old man chuckled. “He’s a Patriarch of the mystic sect! How could he appear at will? Even the greatest mystics cannot summon the Patriarchs of the Three Sects and Four Schools. Our Qingyang Patriarch granting us even a sliver of technique is a lifetime blessing.”
“…I see.” Yun Jiao’s brow furrowed even more, her face graver than before.
The old man, thinking she was still shaken by the ghost earlier, grew anxious. “Girl, you’re not regretting this, are you? Don’t! You promised me this morning! I swear, ghosts like that are rare. If you join, I’ll teach you everything I know, no secrets kept. Ask me anything!”
Yun Jiao finally looked at him. Slowly, she said, “I only have one question.”
“What is it?”
“If your Patriarch never manifests…” She suddenly raised a finger toward the altar, her voice steady. “Then who is that man sitting on the offering table, glowing white, playing with the incense smoke—sometimes making an ‘S’ shape, sometimes a ‘B’ shape?”
“…”
Huh?
⊙_⊙
(End of this chapter)