The cicadas' cries stretched long and drawn out from the dead branches along the road, their noise grating and maddening.
Chen Changfeng stopped in his tracks and looked up.
At the end of the bluestone steps, the mountain gates of the Qingfeng Daoist Temple were tightly shut.
However, the clearing at the foot of the mountain was already packed with people.
In front of an incense and candle stall, a few traveling merchants wearing bamboo hats squatted in the shade of a tree. They fanned themselves with tattered palm-leaf fans, sweat trickling down their necks.
"It's really bizarre. Today, even the green-canopied carriage from the Duke of Anguo's estate was turned away." A merchant lowered his voice, pointing his broken fan at several luxurious carriages parked not far away.
The jujube-red horses pulling the carriages pawed the ground restlessly, while the drivers leaned against the shafts, yawning continuously.
"Isn't it just! I heard the Temple Master inside gave the word that the mountain is sealed off today to all guests. He's specifically waiting for an incredibly exalted VIP." An old man selling tea nearby shook his head, throwing a rag over his shoulder. "I've been running a stall here for thirty years, and this is the first time Qingfeng Temple has ever sealed the mountain."
"Just how important of a VIP do you think this is, that they wouldn't even give face to the Duke?"
"Could it be that the one from the Palace is coming?"
"Don't make blind guesses. If the Palace were coming, this mountain path would have been locked down by the Imperial Guards ages ago. We wouldn't even have the chance to squat here."
Chen Changfeng stepped forward, followed closely by two attendants carrying pastries and a jar of aged Fen liquor.
He had just set foot on the first bluestone step.
A worn fly whisk swept across horizontally, firmly blocking his path.
A young Daoist boy in a gray cloth robe stood on the steps, looking down at him from above.
"The mountain is sealed today. Outsiders are forbidden from entering. Benefactor, please return."
Chen Changfeng did not reply. His gaze passed over the fly whisk and looked toward the tightly shut mountain gates.
In the tea shed nearby, a wealthy young master dressed in a long gown of Shu brocade slammed his hand heavily onto the table, splashing tea all over the old man beside him.
"Roll far away! Don't block my breeze!"
The old man apologized profusely and retreated to the side with his tea bowl.
This man was none other than Zhou Wenbin, the only son of the Shuzhou Prefect.
Zhou Wenbin had endured three hours under this sun without even a sip of hot tea, and he was already boiling with anger.
He cast a sidelong glance at Chen Changfeng's ordinary merchant attire and let out a cold snort.
"I've been waiting here for three hours and they still haven't let me in! How dare a country bumpkin in cheap silk like you try to go up?"
Several sturdy, vicious servants behind Zhou Wenbin joined in the jeering, erupting into bursts of mocking laughter.
One of the fierce-looking servants stepped forward and kicked over the incense stall next to them.
"They won't even see the family of our Shuzhou Prefect, so who do you think you are! Hurry up and roll down from there, don't dirty these steps!"
At this moment, Chen Changfeng suddenly noticed a few dirty children squatting by the roadside, staring longingly at the oil-paper packages held by his attendants.
Chen Changfeng walked over and untied the thin hemp rope on the oil paper.
The sweet scent of osmanthus wafted out. He picked up a few pastries and handed them to the children.
The children took them and wolfed them down, even licking the crumbs that fell into their palms completely clean.
Chen Changfeng took the jar of aged Fen liquor from his attendant.
"Wait here. No matter what happens, you are not allowed to draw your swords."
The attendant took the liquor jar with both hands and obediently retreated to the edge of the tea shed.
Chen Changfeng raised a hand to smooth out the hem of his gown, brushed the surface dust off his sleeves, turned back around, and stepped onto the bluestone steps again.
The young Daoist boy's face darkened. He thrust the fly whisk forward, almost pressing it against Chen Changfeng's chest.
"Can you not understand human speech, benefactor? The Temple Master is waiting for a VIP today. If you take another step forward, don't blame this humble Daoist for being impolite."
Chen Changfeng stopped on the second step, looking calmly at the young Daoist boy.
"The person you are waiting for might just be me."
As soon as these words were spoken, the tea shed fell dead silent.
Immediately after, Zhou Wenbin pointed at Chen Changfeng, laughing so hard he was gasping for breath, tears almost spurting from his eyes.
"Hahahahaha! Is he crazy? If he's a VIP, then I am the current... ahem! Just listen to the nonsense this country bumpkin is spouting!"
The vicious servants laughed uproariously.
The young Daoist boy flipped his wrist, withdrawing the fly whisk, his tone turning extremely cold and hard.
"Words are no proof. Hand over your calling card."
Chen Changfeng reached into his wide sleeve and then handed something forward.
A copper coin fell into the palm of the young Daoist boy.
The broken edge was covered in green rust, and the front was worn down to just half a character. It looked like something even a beggar on the street wouldn't bother to pick up.
The young Daoist boy originally wanted to throw it right back, but his wrist paused.
On the back of the copper coin, a ring of extremely fine Daoist cloud patterns was carved.
The young Daoist boy's breathing hitched, and he immediately sprinted all the way toward the mountain gates.
In the tea shed, Zhou Wenbin froze, his laughter catching in his throat.
"What did that bumpkin give him? Banknotes? Since when did Qingfeng Temple start caring about money?"
Zhou Wenbin stood up from the bench, walked to the bottom of the steps in a few strides, and pointed at Chen Changfeng's back.
"You lowly merchant, what filthy thing did you use to dirty the Daoist's eyes? I must expose you today!"
Chen Changfeng didn't even turn his head; he only stared at the tightly shut mountain gates.
This kind of disregard thoroughly enraged Zhou Wenbin. He was used to running amok in his hometown; when had he ever suffered such a frustrating indignity?
"Men! Tie up this pretentious scum for me! Strip off his clothes and hang him upside down from the crooked tree outside the mountain gates! I want to see how Qingfeng Temple cleans up this mess when the VIP arrives later!"
Several vicious servants rolled up their sleeves and charged up the steps.
The leader reached out to grab the back of Chen Changfeng's collar.
Chen Changfeng turned his head, his gaze sweeping across Zhou Wenbin's neck.
Zhou Wenbin only felt a chill on the back of his neck, the words in his throat abruptly choking off.
The way this man looked at him, he didn't even view the only son of the Shuzhou Prefect as a human being.
The faces of the two attendants by the tea shed tightened. They were just about to set down the liquor jar and draw their swords, but forcibly recalled Chen Changfeng's earlier instructions, so they stood their ground and didn't move.
The vicious servant's hand had not yet touched the corner of Chen Changfeng's clothes.
The sound of the mountain gates opening suddenly rang out; a gap had already opened.
A middle-aged Daoist quickly stepped over the threshold. His robe was washed until it was white. This was precisely the guest-welcoming Daoist of Qingfeng Temple.
The crowd of pilgrims exploded into an uproar.
"The Guest-Welcoming Daoist has come out!"
"The day before yesterday, when the Minister of War came to ask for a fortune, he didn't even show his face. Why has he come out in person?"
The guest-welcoming Daoist ignored the vicious servants charging up the stairs and walked straight up to Chen Changfeng. He folded his hands and gave a deep bow.
He bent his waist extremely low.
"Master Chen, the Temple Master invites you in."
The surroundings instantly fell dead silent.
The vicious servants who were preparing to make their move froze in place, caught in a dilemma.
Their outstretched hands paused in mid-air, unable to be withdrawn or placed down.
Zhou Wenbin's mouth fell wide open, his folding fan dropping to the ground in shock. The family background he was so proud of became a joke in the face of these three words.
"Daoist... did you mistake him for someone else?" Zhou Wenbin stammered. "He's just a traveling merchant..."
The guest-welcoming Daoist straightened up and swept a cold glance over Zhou Wenbin.
"The Shuzhou Prefecture? Even if a first-rank official came, they would still have to wait at the foot of the mountain today! If you dare to make a racket again, you will never be allowed to set foot in Qingfeng Temple for the rest of your life."
Zhou Wenbin's legs went weak, and he slumped down onto the bluestone slabs.
Chen Changfeng bypassed the guest-welcoming Daoist and stepped over the high threshold.
With a resounding thud, the mountain gates shut tightly behind him, completely cutting off the noise from the outside.
The courtyard was so quiet that there was only the rustling sound of the wind blowing through the leaves.
Inside the large three-legged bronze incense burner in front of the main hall, there wasn't even the slightest residual warmth of incense ash.
The bell tower was empty, save for two white porcelain teacups placed on the stone table right in the center of the courtyard.
Steam rose from the tea.
Chen Changfeng walked along the path. He was all too familiar with this courtyard.
Ten years ago, he had stepped on every single brick here.
At that time, he was not yet the military strategist of the Helian Royal Court, but merely a nameless outcast of the Great Qian.
Returning now, the tree was still the same tree, and the furnace still the same furnace.
His gaze swept over the two cups of hot tea on the stone table.
Chen Changfeng slowed his pace.
The tea was still steaming, indicating it had just been poured.
The Temple Master had long since cast a hexagram and divined his arrival today, even pinpointing the exact hour he would step through the mountain gate.
This ability of foresight was precisely why Chen Changfeng had to see him on this trip.
A monstrous genius had emerged in the Great Qian, one who was about to destroy all of Chen Changfeng's meticulously laid plans.
When the frontline battle reports reached the Royal Court, even the most elite Iron Pagoda cavalry began to feel fear.
If the creator of those things was not eliminated, the Helian people's grand scheme to march south would inevitably end in disastrous failure.
Chen Changfeng needed to borrow the Temple Master's eyes to see through the background of that monster and find the vital weakness to break the deadlock.
Since the tea was already prepared, it meant this situation could still be resolved.
The guest-welcoming Daoist priest led the way, his steps very light.
"The Temple Master is not in a good mood today."
The Daoist priest lowered his voice.
"If Master Chen comes for matters of slaughter, it is best not to speak of it."
Chen Changfeng looked at the blue brick path ahead.
"I do not ask about killing; I only ask about the mandate of heaven."
The Daoist priest paused in his steps, his horsetail whisk freezing in mid-air for a breath, before he quickened his pace.
Passing through the moon gate, they stopped outside the doors of the rear hall.
The hall doors were half-open, and the light inside was dim.
Sunlight filtered through the window lattices and struck the ground, forming pillars of light.
"Young Master Chen, please go in by yourself."
The Daoist priest turned sideways and retreated into the corridor.
Chen Changfeng lifted his foot and stepped over the threshold.
In the center of the great hall, the clay statues of the Three Pure Ones stood tall, looking down upon everything below.
The incense altar was covered with a thin layer of dust, and the fruits in the offering tray had shriveled.
A white-haired Daoist priest stood with his back to the hall doors.
Wearing a loose Daoist robe, his back appeared somewhat hunched.
In his hands, he held a piece of coarse cloth, slowly wiping a wooden compass that was missing a corner.
That compass was missing its southeast corner.
It had shattered back then to save Chen Changfeng's life, blocking a fatal tribulation for him. Since then, the Temple Master had never replaced it with a new compass.
The coarse cloth swept over the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches on the compass, sweeping over the Eight Trigrams' positions.
The white-haired Daoist did not turn around, and the movements of his hands did not cease.
"You have returned?"
The coarse cloth wiped along the edge of the compass, stopping at the position of the Li Fire.
"The stench of blood on you is much heavier than when I saw you off through the pass all those years ago."
