Chapter 298

The Daoist priests of Jingyun Temple, who enjoyed the people's offerings, secretly practiced demonic arts, harmed women in the capital, drained blood to forge Golden Core pills—now eliminated!

"Anyone who dares imitate them will meet the same fate!"

The last glimmer of twilight vanished; Lin Jue's voice spread through the chilly night.

The junior sister squatted on the ground, writing with her fingers.

Her fingers scraped across the blue stone tiles—no divine aura, no great commotion, only a faint rustling sound, as if she were writing in sand, her fingers sinking halfway into the stone.

When she finished, she exhaled softly.

"Phew…"

Another night breeze blew, stirring up stone dust.

Wan Wan Xinrong held a glowing flame, stepped closer to illuminate—and there, on the tiles, were two new lines of characters.

Three inches deep into the stone…

It seemed this Lin Lingqing Zhenren didn't merely wish to inform the pilgrims and common folk of the Daoists' crimes at Jingyun Temple and the reason for today's events—he also wished to warn the one behind them: don't think Jingyun Temple is gone, and seek others to continue pill-making; even to warn more lawbreakers in the capital.

And perhaps he left no name for this very reason.

Unknown threats carry greater dread.

Even if believed to be the work of a deity, those harboring evil intent or already guilty of crimes would feel a measure of awe.

"Let's go."

"Mm."

"Wan Daofriend, are you badly hurt?"

"Not even a minor wound."

Though Wan Wan Xinrong bore all the injuries among them, he still stepped forward, holding the glowing flame to light the way for Lin Jue.

"Daofriend, you don't need to do this."

"It is this servant's fortune!"

Inside the guest hall of Jingyun Temple, a pilgrim, thinking the outside had grown quiet—that the divine had finished slaying the demon—finally slipped open a crack in the door or window, just in time to see three Daoists, guided by starlight and bearing divine fire, depart.

In the courtyard stood a warrior like a True Lord, and a dozen soldiers like celestial troops; the warrior carried one Daoist, the soldiers escorted a group of others, all moving outward, their forms blurred by dim light.

Precisely because they could not see clearly, imagination swelled—this scene resembled ancient paintings of deities hunting demons through mountains.

Only here, it was not a mountain, but a temple; the captives were not demons, but Daoists.

The pilgrim behind the door held his breath.

Suddenly, one soldier turned his head—under the starlight, his crimson face was visible, expressionless.

"Sss!"

The pilgrim slammed the door shut, heart pounding.

Fortunately, those soldiers—whether divine or demonic—did not harass them; their heavy steps never paused, and soon they vanished into the distance.

Clearly, they resembled deities more than demons.

…

The night passed; dawn grew clear.

The pilgrims of Jingyun Temple finally dared to step outside.

But as they pushed open the door, they froze.

Before their eyes lay a ruined temple—

Walls collapsed, roofs fallen, everywhere charred and scorched; even the blue stone tiles beneath their feet were shattered.

Corpses of Jingyun Temple's Daoists littered the ground; swords lay scattered everywhere.

And on the ground lay two colossal figures, blooming with flowers—upon closer look, they were the two guardian warrior gods who once stood before the temple gate; every pilgrim entering or leaving had passed beneath their gaze—but why had they come here? Why were they lying wounded in the courtyard, as if they had just endured a fierce battle?

This scene was both fantastical beyond imagining and profoundly shocking.

Wherever their armor did not cover, flowers bloomed wildly—no one knew why.

Turning his gaze, another figure appeared: a stone giant nearly ten feet tall, leaning against the wall, motionless.

The stone giant, the guardian gods, the temple torn apart—this scene, if claimed to be the work of mortals, no fool would believe it.

Yet many of the Daoists on the ground were familiar faces.

Some pilgrims covered their noses; some hid their faces with sleeves, refusing to look; others, braving their fear, stepped forward to inspect.

Soon, they found a whole stone slab.

Two lines of characters were carved into it—three inches deep.

Someone murmured the words aloud, eyes wide.

The words heard last night, the scenes glimpsed—each moment replayed in their minds.

For some reason, though they knew these Daoists of Jingyun Temple better, inexplicably, they now believed the words on the stone slab—and believed the victor of last night.

…

The capital's bustle peaked at dawn; though nights were filled with drunken revelry and wild celebration, such ecstasy belonged only to the few—not to the masses.

Fan Fan Tian Shi and his old servant had arrived outside the magistrate's office.

Countless commoners, drawn by fame, had blocked the wide street, all straining on tiptoe, gazing at that ethereal, transcendent figure.

It was said that yesterday, Fan Fan Tian Shi had examined the corpses of the murdered women and claimed he could find the killer—and today, he had already done so.

Fan Fan Tian Shi stood above, speaking.

Some arrived late; Fan Fan Tian Shi had finished speaking. Only the old servant remained, holding a tray with several insects the size of fists, displaying them to all.

The insects were gold and silver in color—not only large, but grotesque: sharp mandibles, pointed tail stingers—each glance sent chills and unease.

Some were intact; others cut cleanly in half—each severed body revealed dark red, coagulated blood clots inside the abdomen.

"Sss! These insects are terrifying!"

A scholar couldn't help shuddering, staring at the towering, ethereal Fan Fan Tian Shi, then asked his neighbor: "Brother, what are these insects? What's going on? Didn't Fan Fan Tian Shi slay the demon who killed women in the capital? Could these monsters be the culprits?"

"You're late—you didn't hear!" The man was excited, whirling around, eager to explain: "Fan Fan Tian Shi just finished explaining!"

"You're late—you didn't hear it!" The man was equally excited, immediately turning back to explain with great enthusiasm, "Master Fan just finished speaking!"

"He said the woman-killer in the capital isn't the mountain god on Fengshan outside the city who drains human fat—it's a Daoist hiding secretly in a clinic outside the city, posing as a physician. Women returning from Fengshan, weakened and thin, come to him for medicine to restore their strength—and he uses them. He then frames the mountain god."

"Impossible!" the scholar gasped. "Such cruelty isn't the work of a demon—it's done by a human?"

"Ah… who could say otherwise!"

"Truly, human hearts are unfathomable!" the scholar sighed. "How did the Daoist kill them?"

"Fan—this Daoist bred many insects. The golden ones, once they bite, rob the victim of reason, leaving them dazed and dreamy. The silver ones drain blood—suck the blood from these women, then spit it out to forge pills."

"To forge pills, he killed so many!" the scholar recoiled. "This man's heart is more vicious than any demon or ghost!"

"To brew pills, he killed so many people!" The scholar gasped, "This man is more ruthless than demons or ghosts!"

"Thank heaven for Fan Fan Tian Shi!" The scholar, always drawn to strange arts, sighed inwardly. "No wonder he's Fan Fan Tian Shi! Only yesterday he was alerted, only yesterday he examined the corpses—and in less than a day and night, the demon is dead!"

"Thank goodness Master Fan is here." The scholar, always drawn to such strange and wondrous arts, sighed inwardly, "No wonder he's Master Fan! Only yesterday did he arrive at the magistrate's office to examine the corpses, and less than a day and night have passed—already the demon has been slain!"

But the man turned to the scholar: "This isn't solely Fan Fan Tian Shi's achievement."

But the man turned his head and looked at the scholar: "This wasn't solely Master Fan's achievement."

"Who else? Though Fan took credit, the one who refused to show himself—who else could it be? It's none other than Lin Lingqing Zhenren!"

"The Lin Lingqing Zhenren who subdued the stone horse on the street?"

"Is that the True Person Lin who subdued the stone horse in the street?"

"But I heard yesterday's rumor was that Lin Lingqing Zhenren and Fan Fan Tian Shi came together to examine the corpses and find the killer—yet only Fan Fan Tian Shi appeared?"

"You heard only that. But you didn't hear that Fan Fan Tian Shi only arrived to examine the corpses at noon yesterday—yet the demon Daoist was already slain by dawn. Now think: why did only Fan Fan Tian Shi appear at noon? Where was Lin Lingqing Zhenren?"

"You only heard this part, but you didn't hear that Master Fan only came to examine the corpses at noon yesterday—yet the demon Daoist who committed the murders had already been slain that morning. Now think: why did only Master Fan come to view the bodies at noon? Where was True Person Lin?"

As he spoke, the man regarded him with a knowing look.

The scholar drew a deep breath—and understood.

The man smiled.

But at that moment, Fan Fan Tian Shi's voice rang out again:

"Yet this demon Daoist is not the mastermind. He is merely a 'herbal collector,' hired to murder women and gather essence-blood. The one who forges the pills is someone else."

The crowd below erupted in uproar.

Some whispered among themselves; others gasped in shock.

No one questioned why, in such a vast, open space, Fan Fan Tian Shi's voice reached every ear—even if noticed, all assumed it was only fitting for Fan Fan Tian Shi.

After a moment of clamor, the crowd quieted, sensing Fan Fan Tian Shi's presence, eager to hear his next words.

"But rest assured, I have summoned a deity to investigate this matter and eliminate the one behind the pill-making. Perhaps by now, the truth is already known."

"But rest assured, my brethren—I have already summoned a divine spirit to investigate this matter and eliminate the mastermind behind the pill-making. Perhaps by now, the results are already in."

The crowd erupted again.

Several high officials, returning from Jingyun Temple outside the city, had their horses blocked here and just heard Fan Fan Tian Shi's final words—now stunned and puzzled.

Nearby, two Daoists, a man and a woman, stood motionless, smiling up at Fan Fan Tian Shi.

Not long after, within the residence.

Lin Jue bowed to Fan Fan Tian Shi: "Thank you, Fan Daofriend, for taking on this karmic burden for us."

"I should be thanking you, Elder Daoist! I've gained fame by riding on your deeds!" Fan Fan Tian Shi, now as humble and courteous as he had been majestic outside, said, "Elder Daoist, rest assured: whether the Emperor or the Imperial Consort asks, or anyone else, I shall say it was I who summoned the deity—and the deity acted."

"I should be the one thanking you, Brother Dao!" Master Fan, who had been so dignified outside, now bowed with utmost respect, "Rest assured, Brother Dao—whether the Emperor or the Imperial Consort asks, or anyone else inquires, I shall say it was I who summoned the divine spirit, and the spirit acted on its own."

"Good! Each gains what he seeks!"

"Good! Each takes what they need!"

But I must say this: the Daoists at Jingyun Temple know the Golden Light Spell, proving they do worship a deity—though we don't know which sect.

If there is bitter fruit, it is the price this monk must pay.

Friend, you're straightforward!

Lin Jue smiled at him, finally putting his mind at ease.

Jingyun Temple is so famous, and it housed so many Daoists—how could their deaths not be considered a major case?

He and Luo Luo Gongceng had enjoyed a moment of satisfaction, relieving their inner grievances, but after this, even if they escaped formal blame, they would surely face trouble. Even if the Emperor or Imperial Consort could not openly punish them, they would surely harbor resentment in secret; any such trouble would hinder their cultivation.

Only by handing it over to Fan Tian Shi could such matters be buried—and only "Fan Tian Shi"'s name had the authority to suppress them, allowing Lin Jue and the others to cultivate in peace.

This is the path Fan the Daoist excels in.