Chapter 665: How Do I Get to the Hakurei Shrine

【Fantasy Land’s Fastest and Most Accurate Source of Truth · Bunken News (Wind Extra Edition)】:

Title: “Secrets of Eternity Pavilion”

Shocking! The thousand-year feud between Princess of Eternity Pavilion and Fujiwara no Mokō is all because of him? The two women share an unknown love-hate entanglement with a mysterious man from the outside world.

Our reporter learned from insiders:

“To satisfy the physical desires of this outside man residing in Eternity Pavilion, Hōrai-san Kaguya even brought two innocent rabbit yōkai and herself to his bed—she has admitted to having once been married to Fujiwara no Mokō.”

Our reporter, committed to factual accuracy, gathered multiple pieces of evidence:

Including audio recordings of the protagonist's confessions to Hōrai-san Kaguya and the love diary of the Princess of the Eternity Pavilion.

(Attached: Princess of Eternity Pavilion’s love diary, victim interviews, photos of the three-way drama!)

Su Lin put down the newspaper and stared at the system interface.

Manifestation Points: +1 +1 +2 +1 +1 +3

Can this kind of gossip really count as Manifestation in Front of Others?

Are you kidding? Whose fate or life is actually affected by such boring rumors?!

He stared blankly at the rising eastern sun, remembered that sunbathing boosts vitamin D activity and benefits health, so he first did a round of radio calisthenics.

A moment later, Su Lin picked up a bowl of mochi and ate it with some side dishes.

“Aren’t you eating?”

A row of small tables sat on the tatami; across from him, the group of newspaper enthusiasts held their papers but made no move to touch their chopsticks.

He worried their breakfast would grow cold.

“Hah… cough, you can have it all.” When Meng Qi pushed his portion toward Su Lin, his stomach growled like a drum—he immediately changed his mind: “Never mind, my mortal body can’t go without food.”

Perhaps because the mochi was too sticky, and Meng Qi laughed while eating, losing focus—he kept slapping his chest, eventually choking until his face turned purple, as if something was stuck.

“It really did affect fate.” Su Lin clicked his tongue in wonder, sidestepping Meng Qi’s hand reaching for help.

“This is even more gripping than a game,” Lu Mingfei gritted his teeth. “So you sneaked off last night to meet a fantasy land beauty?!”

“Do you believe tabloid newspapers or believe I’m Jesus Christ?” Su Lin shot back.

Lu Mingfei, about to speak further, froze mid-thought—something about that remark felt off.

But it didn’t matter—he’d already sent the newspaper to a witch who occasionally sent him question marks and smiley faces, hoping to use it as an offering to quell her desire to kill him.

My dear friend, forgive me.

Lu Mingfei felt a quiet anticipation mixed with tension, like a lone man wandering Raccoon City with a red dot laser aimed at his own head.

He was playing for the ultimate thrill.

Huai Shi removed his headphones—the Shanghai Alice Phantom Orchestra’s melody still echoed: “Big Boss, isn’t this classic misunderstanding exactly how a two-dimensional literary story begins?”

Boy, are you envious of this kind of misunderstanding?

Su Lin smiled.

“Cough… I’m just analyzing this from a narrative standpoint,” Huai Shi quickly explained.

“You’re not wrong—this newspaper might just prompt Fujiwara no Mokō to come knocking on your door herself.” Kei Lan flipped through a few pages, then snapped his fingers without looking up, reversing Meng Qi’s state back to before he ate.

“Whoa!” Meng Qi gasped for air.

Before the next piano key could be pressed, the sunrise fell, and the phoenix’s cry echoed across the heavens.

“Kaguya, you bitch—and you, you man—get out here!”

“Who’s fighting over your lover?!”

“You’ve got the guts to spread rumors but not the guts to open the door?!”

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

The pounding on the gate and flickering flames formed a rhythm.

Kei Lan brushed honey over the mochi, then calmly pulled out a chilled sweet tea to go with it: “Just simple deduction.”

Fine, say it’s deduction—I’m used to it by now. Even if you deduce tomorrow is the end of the world, I won’t care.

“Why’s this turkey making such a racket so early?”

Kaguya, still half-asleep, rubbed her messy hair and opened the door with a yawn: “What’s this…”

She glanced at the newspaper on the ground, bent down, and picked it up.

“Why am I dragged into this? There’s a mole.” Kaguya clicked her tongue, tossed the paper aside, and walked down the right corridor: “I’ll make you rabbit hotpot tonight.”

“Eirin!”

“It’s too noisy out there!”

It sounded like a child screaming for Mom to fix the problem.

Soon, beams of light shot out from Eternity Pavilion, and the outside flames instantly died.

“What do we do after breakfast?” Su Lin asked.

“Do you even have to ask?” Lu Mingfei slammed his fist on the table, energized: “Pilgrimage to the Hakurei Shrine!”

“I’m practicing with doujin music on the violin—I’ll play a piece at the shrine later,” Huai Shi pointed to his headphones.

Anyone seeing him would assume this guy practices with genuine devotion—even after everything, he still cares about his cello certification.

In truth, Huai Shi had analyzed internet and short-video profits and realized he’d taken the wrong path—his looks and talent could make him a net idol faster than being a male host.

Meng Qi said: “Not my type, but I’ve read some anime back in the day—I’m up for a visit.”

Nidhogg, Azathoth, Yuan Huang, the future Ta Yi—all were old-school otaku. Looks like Earth’s myths are just as dead.

Su Lin felt the group’s members were currently polarized.

Like those guys over there—their vibe felt completely out of place: the Capital Emperor, the Beast Milk Emperor, the Cackling Flame Emperor forming the traditional school.

“Do you guys watch anime?”

Shi Hao: “No.”

Ye Fan: “When I was on Earth, I considered investing in anime and film.”

“I used to watch The Little Carp’s Adventure and Big Head Son and Small Head Dad,” Xiao Yan nodded unexpectedly: “Now I still read Doupo Cangqiong.”

After speaking, Xiao Yan noticed no one responded.

The otaku guys across from him stared at him with complex expressions—he was reminded of a new internet term he’d learned: “male gaze.”

“No wonder it’s you.”

The moment Xiao Yan spoke, the room’s vintage atmosphere snapped into place.

“What’s the difference?” Xiao Yan explained: “I sometimes play games with Huo Zi—I can keep up with your times.”

“Then why haven’t you upgraded the group’s features?” Su Lin asked.

Xiao Yan frowned: “What’s left to upgrade in software that’s basically QQ? Paid features? QQ Show and QQ Pets?”

“Red envelopes, video calls, emojis.”

“Does QQ have those?”

Xiao Yan looked like he was hearing fairy tales.

Case closed.

But another problem arose: the group had planned to ask the Neet girl as their guide, but she’d gone out to hunt dinner ingredients.

Lingxian had been avoiding Su Lin.

Logically, I’m the God of Light, not the God of the Sea—why are you afraid I’ll attack you?

With no one else free to act as guide, the Eternity Pavilion residents formed a makeshift Starlight Crusade of the unwilling, heading toward the Hakurei Shrine.

“There might be yōkai on the road,” Meng Qi said. “Little Black Dragon, if danger comes, protect me and the bald monk.”

Lu Mingfei wiped sweat: “It’s not a pilgrimage to the Western Heavens.”

He looked toward the “bald monk” Meng Qi mentioned—the man was standing at Eternity Pavilion’s gate.

Su Lin asked: “Need me to pull it out?”

“Pull it out! I’m going to beat you up!” Fujiwara no Mokō, pinned to the wall by arrows, glared with eyes blazing:

“Because of your nonsense yesterday, I’ve lost all dignity in the Principle of Humanity!!”

“Then go blame the tabloid reporter, bro—Red, you’re full of energy! We’ll go ahead then.” Su Lin waved dismissively.

“Wait!” Fujiwara no Mokō shouted. “Are you really Kaguya’s lover?!”

“Of course not.”

Su Lin smiled with a hint of pride: “I already have a beautiful, lovely, and perfect girlfriend—she’s not white-haired with red eyes, but gray hair suits her surprisingly well.”

At that moment, he felt someone poking him from behind.

“What?”

“Just wanted to ask.”

Perhaps due to severing his cultivation, Meng Qi felt his self-control on certain matters had weakened:

“I’m not one to gossip behind backs—I’m just curious.”

“Kaguya occasionally plays special jokes on you, but never on anyone else—and yet you never react.”

“You get it?”

“That’s why when I arranged your blind date, I invited her,” Kei Lan tried to explain.

Seeing everyone’s similar expressions, Su Lin crossed his arms, thought for a moment, then rested his chin on his right hand—gradually, realization dawned.

Lu Mingfei watched him, utterly speechless: “Where did this clueless male lead come from?”

“Not that,” Su Lin scoffed. “If we’re counting time—it was a hundred thousand years ago, or maybe a few hundred—I’ve forgotten.”

Since the seventh day I entered Eternity, that guy has been distracting me with words when he’s bored.

Do you think I haven’t heard these words countless times? How many times has she said them?

While Su Lin was engraving Karoso’s Creation Law, Hanyue, fully aware he was immobilized, livestreamed games and passed the time with lewd jokes.

After playing with the butter for too long, the woman began fixating her gaze on Su Lin, who was immobilized and running Tianwang, attempting some provocative stunts—what exactly, I’m not sure.

In short, it was “Lady Hanyue trying to make me confess my feelings.”

Later, after Hanyue grew tired of her stored games and realized Su Lin’s Tianwang couldn’t be broken, she left first.

You’ve known each other this long?

That’s how time-based abilities work.

Su Lin crouched before Fujihara Mekong, who was still struggling, and smiled warmly: “So, Secretary Fujihara, I won’t interfere as a third party in your relationship with Hanyue. Rest easy.”

A couple bound by love and mutual destruction—quite compelling.

Facing Su Lin’s raised thumb, his bright teeth and smile.

Fujihara Mekong knew the individual characters Su Lin spoke, but couldn’t comprehend them strung together—they made no sense.

My feelings with Hanyue?!

Yesterday I thought you were decent for providing seasoning; now I see.

Realizing it, her body shuddered as if seized by a chill, and she roared: “You’re just as hateful as that bitch Hanyue!!!”

“Can you just gain favor by providing seasoning?” Su Lin asked, astonished.

“Aaaah! I don’t want to teach you a lesson anymore—I’m going to roast you alive!!!”

Phoenix flames surged and writhed, but were held in check by the arrows’ pressure; once freed, she would surely attack Su Lin.

Phoenix

Meng Qi rubbed his chin, recalling how he too had been hunted by the Demon Saint due to a misunderstanding.

Crack!

Crack, crack!

A flash of light appeared; Su Lin turned to see a crow-tengu girl staring in surprise at her camera.

The first paparazzo of Gensokyo, Shamingwan Wen, known as Paparazzi Wen.

“Strange, I didn’t turn on the flash?!” Shamingwan Wen scratched her head sheepishly, her expression serious:

A married man from the outside world entangled with two Penglai women—he loves her, she loves her, and she loves him?

“Sssss—!”

“Thank you so much! I’ll report this exactly as is!!!”

Wild winds whipped leaves and weeds into a swirling vortex, spinning rapidly before settling gently, leaving only Fujihara Mekong’s vacant, stunned gaze and a few astonished tourists.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Su Lin glanced at Kleen.

“I warned you,” Kleine shrugged, swinging his cane. “I caused her camera to malfunction—but how these tabloid reporters write is beyond me.”

“That damn bird!” Fujihara Mekong snarled, turning to Su Lin: “And you—”

She was furious at Su Lin’s nonsense, though no one in Gensokyo took the tengu newspaper seriously, its circulation reached even Hell!

“Which direction is Tengu Mountain?”

“Huh?”

Fujihara Mekong frowned. “Tengu Mountain is heavily guarded, and that crow-tengu is fast. Hanyue said last night you came for treatment—don’t be foolish.”

She studied Su Lin, remembering how he’d appeared silently last night, controlling strange “spirit servants”—he was no ordinary man, but in this state, catching that crow would still be difficult.

“Didn’t you just want to roast me?” Su Lin smiled. “Just tell me which direction.”

“Tch, whatever. Left.”

“The first stop on the Gensokyo tour changed—but why does it feel like it’s become the order of a hentai?”

Nine phantom dragon shadows materialized in Su Lin’s palm; he turned left, his smile tinged with murderous intent: “I’m chasing you—if I catch you, I’ll… hehehe~~”

Dragon’s Roar shook the heavens!!!

Palm cradling Wuji, nine dragons resonated; as the furious dragon qi collapsed inward, the invincible battle armor once stained by the Law of Light once again enveloped Su Lin’s body.

A strand of white hair hung from the dragon-headed crown; his right hand gripped the Tianqing Jade Void Sword; silver-scaled dragon armor rippled in the wind; his figure stood firm amid swirling azure sword qi.

“Lend me the Absolute Blade.”

“Take it yourself.”

Meng Qi pointed to one of his own dantian.

Su Lin’s left hand grabbed at the air, his arm suddenly heavy; he yanked hard, dragging out Meng Qi—gray-haired, clad in Daoist robes, before his journey west.

Meng Qi’s historical projection touched his own dantian, grasping the Thunder-Wrapped Absolute Sword.

“Nine Dragons Return as One!”

An ancient bronze cup materialized before him; in an instant, black-and-white chains holding the secrets of cause and effect shot into the void, and Su Lin transformed into a pure white light-dragon, roaring into it, Meng Qi following close behind.

With their combined technique, a dragon’s roar tore through the heavens, thunder rolled, and star-like spiritual rain fell, nourishing mountains, rivers, and all things.

“Dragon clan?” Fujihara Mekong blinked.

“If he really is a dragon, fine,” Lu Mingfei grinned, baring his teeth: “But no dragon has ever been this perverted—crippled and still this strong…”

“He’s already held back,” Zhou Mingrui stepped before Fujihara Mekong, removed his hat, and smiled gently:

“How do I get to the Bōrei Shrine?”

“The Emperor seems to have gone selling medicine with Lingxian—lucky him.”

Hanyue stepped out from the doorway, looked at the sky, sighed while crossing her arms, then turned to Fujihara Mekong, pinned to the wall, and asked:

“Turkey, why are you still here? Even if your colors match, you can’t cosplay Inuyasha.”

“I came to settle scores with you!” Fujihara Mekong spat, then frowned: “And that diary in the paper—it’s your handwriting.”

“Hmm.”

Hanyue fell silent for a moment, then covered her face with laughter: “Are you jealous?”

Phoenix flames flared, but as Mekong’s fury peaked, Hanyue grabbed the arrow’s tail feathers and yanked hard outward.

Blood on the arrowhead blazed fiercely; Hanyue stared at the sharp tip for seconds, then poked it with her finger, drawing crimson blood she smeared along Mekong’s lips.

“Do you still consider yourself human?”

“What do you mean?”

Mekong’s angry expression stiffened.

“After drinking the Elixir of Penglai, the human body ceases to decay, lives forever, forbidden to die, yet unable to ascend to immortality—even if body and soul are utterly destroyed, one can be reborn elsewhere at any moment.”

She slowly, deliberately, pulled out the arrow embedded in Mekong’s right wrist:

“Not to mention you, fused with the ‘Rebirth Bird,’ are no longer human—not even in your heart, you know it, don’t you?”

Mekong endured the unbearable pain without a sound.

“For eternity, untouched by time, even the most novel things eventually grow tiresome.”

“Understanding that past sorrows and worries don’t matter, eternity doesn’t matter—only present joy does.”

“But over centuries, when one forgets the scale of time, daily life is drowned in boredom, clinging to humanity before returning to nothing, wavering between the fleeting and the eternal.”

Hanyue pulled out the last arrow and dropped it on the ground, opened her hands, and smiled with faint regret:

“Perhaps in a few thousand years we’ll see this scene—but that guy was recently conquered, so it’ll probably be delayed.”

“I once planned to make myself an optional romance route, trying to change things.”

“What a pity.”

“You’re still exactly the same as back then…” Mekong’s eye twitched, her expression growing strange:

“None of the other Gensokyo Hanyues are this sadistic.”

“Finding joy in survival—you’re the same,” Hanyue smiled. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have another interesting kindred spirit?”

“Don’t call me that disgusting word.”

“Turkey.”

“Get lost!”