Chapter 70: Observing the Rite

At dawn, Feng Xue finished breakfast, practiced a body-strengthening technique, then stepped out the door and glanced at the small Western-style house behind him, which looked as if it had just endured an earthquake, before assuming a standing posture.

His nutritional condition was already superior to that of ordinary people in this era, and combined with the regimen of ingestion and physical training, it was more than sufficient to sustain static stance practice.

What was called static stance was essentially the common term for horse stance, though with minor differences; overall, it involved prolonged standing to adjust bodily balance and coordination, while also cultivating mental endurance.

The emphasis was on stillness of the body to perceive the movement of qi and blood.

Only when one could clearly sense the flow of qi and blood could one begin dynamic stance training—not passively perceiving, but actively controlling the flow.

Feng Xue did not even know what qi and blood were, and feared confusing them with magical energy or primordial qi, so he did not rush; instead, he adopted the posture as described in the book, calming his mind and steadying his breath.

Though his physique was average, Feng Xue’s mental focus was exceptional; within minutes, he subtly entered a hollow, lucid state, somewhat resembling the meditative trance of xuan cultivators, yet tinged with a bodily warmth and restlessness.

Following the book’s instructions, he adjusted his posture to ensure the warmth flowed evenly and steadily, and before he realized it, he had stood for half an hour.

When he finally came back to himself, his waist and legs were numb and aching, his head hot, and despite the bitter cold, he was drenched in fine sweat.

Feng Xue was not surprised; he staggered back into the room and called Liu Yunxi to give him a bath (meaning to transform into a shower).

After all that exertion, by the time Feng Xue redressed himself, it was already past eight. He tidied his belongings once more, then prepared to leave—

After all, the rented house had been reduced to this state; he had to inform the real estate agent. Whether he rented another house or bought and renovated this one, he would need the agent’s assistance.

But before he had gone far, he suddenly heard a frantic call:

“Mr. Feng… Mr. Feng! Wait!”

“???” Feng Xue instinctively reached for Liu Yunxi, now reverted to a ring, while turning toward the voice—and saw the soldier who had visited him yesterday sprinting toward him in a panic.

“What is it?” Feng Xue calmed himself and asked cautiously. The soldier replied with a tone far more humble and fawning than before:

“Mr. Feng! The county magistrate requests your presence at today’s spirit-object installation ceremony. Additionally, your outstanding contribution in yesterday’s demon-slaying has earned you a reward…”

“Ah, this…” Feng Xue internally sighed, but since the matter had been put this way, refusing would be inappropriate—and he was genuinely curious about what a spirit-object was—so he nodded and said:

“Lead the way.”

…

Following the soldier, they arrived not at the county office, but at the Chenghuangmiao beside it.

“Well, the Chenghuangmiao right next to the county office… well, that’s actually quite common.” Feng Xue recalled his world before transmigration—it didn’t seem unusual.

Perhaps in this culture, the Chenghuang Lord even borrowed the magistrate’s premises late at night to judge ghosts?

As he mused, he heard a greeting and looked up to see several xuan cultivators bowing respectfully to him.

Feng Xue, though unfamiliar with them, mimicked their gesture in return. After passing through the archway and entering the inner alley, he finally spotted someone he recognized.

Master Yijing was now staring blankly at the young-looking Daoist priest he had met last night; upon closer inspection, both bore exhaustion no amount of cultivation could hide.

“Damn, does this spirit-object require high-level initiation? Is the magistrate calling me here to help perform the ritual? I can’t do that!”

Seeing the two masters’ exhausted state, Feng Xue immediately thought this—but then relaxed.

He was not even a cultivator yet!

No matter how impressive others thought him, his lack of entry into the Dao was real. Whoever expected him to exert himself would get one reply—

My magical energy was exhausted last night!

Xuan cultivators treasured their magical energy; forcing him to use it would be like trying to kill him.

With this understanding, Feng Xue was no longer anxious; he even had leisure to admire the layout of the Chenghuangmiao.

Master Yijing and Daoist Chen, both waiting anxiously for the hour of Si, noticed Feng Xue. Master Yijing remained composed, but Daoist Chen’s expression changed—he had clearly seen the white-serpent ring on Feng Xue’s hand!

“Already reached the realm of effortless transformation! This great demon must not have taken shortcuts through mere petitioning—otherwise, it could never have refined transformation arts to such a profound level! To wound a thousand-year great demon… that demon cultivator must be an ancient demonic patriarch seeking to transfer his essence into a zombie body and cultivate Yin Sha Turbid Vows. Fortunately, he chose only an ordinary zombie… No! I must cleanse the surrounding fengshui evils later, to drive his demonic cultivation far away! Perhaps even summon the Ancestral Master!”

Daoist Chen’s mental strain nearly broke him. Master Yijing, who had spent the entire night chasing demon cultivators alongside that dubious Daoist, was now dazed. Unlike Daoist cultivators seeking immortality, orthodox Buddhists pursued transcendence; if this life held no hope, they sought rebirth. Though they lived longer than ordinary people, it was merely ordinary longevity. At his age, after days of relentless travel and a sleepless night, he was clearly overwhelmed—and the morning winter sun only made him drowsy.

Fortunately, the clock and sundial hands aligned precisely at the hour of Si. Seeing the auspicious moment arrive, Master Yijing forced himself awake and turned toward the main hall of the Chenghuangmiao.

Under the gaze of all present, the temple attendant and the magistrate stepped forward, each carrying a wooden tray.

On the magistrate’s tray lay his official seal, symbolizing his recognized authority as lord of the county; on the attendant’s tray stood a spirit tablet inscribed in gold lacquer with the words: “Spirit Seat of the Chenghuang of Lucheng County, Protector of the People.”

No explanation was needed. In that instant, every xuan cultivator present halted their movements and bowed in silent reverence. Only three figures clad in colorful robes, wearing Nuo masks, danced an odd, rhythmic dance.

As the dance continued, Feng Xue’s over-the-shoulder view revealed multicolored devotional energy rising from every corner of the temple, forming a rainbow-like bridge extending from the massive incense burner. Moments later, a golden luminous shadow descended upon the tablet, and under the sunlight, mingling with the devotional energy, a golden phantom seemed to coalesce above the main hall.

“Ding ling~!”

A clear, melodious chime rang in his ears—not a physical sound, but one arising directly within the mind, its rise and fall instilling a strange sense of safety, as if within the chime’s protection, no evil could touch him.

The chime rang seven times. Daoist Chen’s expression finally relaxed. With the temple attendant’s cry of “Ritual complete,” the golden shadow along the devotional energy bridge vanished. The once-tense xuan cultivators now visibly relaxed.

“Is that it?” Feng Xue understood roughly what had happened, yet still felt it unreal.

As he prepared to leave the Chenghuangmiao like the other cultivators, the magistrate’s voice called from behind:

“Mr. Feng, please wait!”

Regarding the protagonist’s money: as always, do not judge other eras or worlds by modern consumption norms.

For instance, silver’s low value today is well known, due to industrial processes and influxes of foreign silver.

Similarly, gold’s value fluctuates across time.

In this novel, gold is worth roughly 2,000 wen per gram (moneylenders offer only 1,500 wen). Though one wen equates to one modern yuan in grain purchasing power, grain prices in this era are over ten times higher than today (higher still in famine years, but the novel depicts a good harvest), making gold worth 20,000 yuan per gram.

In early modern China, gold was worth only 3,000 yuan per gram (rising steadily during wartime).

This is not a bug, but an application issue: before technological uses emerged, gold served only as ornamentation and a general equivalent.

Once applied, its value rose continuously—except during mining booms or new gold discoveries—especially during war.

In this world, where xuan cultivators exist, gold as a symbol of wealth has additional practical uses within the devotional energy system; utility means higher value.

Later, we’ll examine the protagonist’s wealth: he brought over a dozen watches. As previously noted, even conservatively valued at 70–80 guan each (700–800 silver yuan), that’s over a thousand guan. He also carries a pouch of gold beans. Knowing he would transmigrate, he would not have brought too little—even accounting for weight, at least one or two catties, another thousand guan.

Don’t ask where the gold came from. Answer: mahjong.

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(End of Chapter)