Chapter 575

Beneath Feilai Mountain, in front of the small house.

The fox sat upright, lowering its head to lick its fur.

Lin Jue, however, looked upward, receiving today’s bright sunlight while gazing at the distant mountains and rivers, already tinged with autumn—on the opposite bank, the temple had reached the stage of tiling, and the craftsmen were unhurried, for building a temple was a rare pleasure for them; they sat on the roof laying tiles, chatting with smiles.

“One day in the Immortal Realm equals one year in the mortal world. Before the Old Heavenly Weng , time truly has no meaning.”

Lin Jue sighed.

“Indeed.” Another Lin Jue stepped forward from his side, standing shoulder to shoulder, gazing into the distance, “But perhaps this is also the Old Heavenly Weng ’s way of evading the ‘Calamity.’”

“Where can one find a mortal master capable of playing chess with Heaven?”

“We’ll have to inquire.”

Unaware, the fox seated between them had stopped licking its fur, lifting its head in confusion, staring at them intently, then turning its head repeatedly—whichever one spoke, it fixed its gaze upon them.

Even the fox was left bewildered.

“Then you go seek out the mortal master.”

“Then you remain here to contemplate the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth, the mysteries of creation.”

“Good!”

A thundercloud gathered suddenly before them, crackling with lightning, humming faintly with thunder, yet seemingly unable to determine who had summoned it or whom it should carry away—so it merely hovered above the empty ground.

The later-appearing Lin Jue took a step forward, stepping onto the thundercloud; with a thunderous roar, he vanished.

Only one Lin Jue remained. This was good for the fox’s neck vertebrae—it turned its head, fixing Lin Jue with a stern stare, and after a long silence, finally spoke:

“Naughty!”

Then it resumed licking its fur.

As it licked, receiving no reply, it instead heard footsteps; looking up, it saw Lin Jue already walking toward the river.

The temple had indeed taken shape.

A typical Huizhou temple, like Shu Village’s Third Aunt Temple and the Qingdi Temple where Lin Jue had once spent the night—it was a small temple, yet not merely a single hut, but a two-court compound with a main hall, two side halls, a ceremonial gate, and courtyard walls; a fish pond and water jars had been installed in the center.

Aside from the roof tiles not yet fully laid, only decorative plants and trees remained, and even the deity statue had been transported and placed in the courtyard.

Devotees had already begun coming to burn incense and make offerings.

“Some said this place was bad, but I think it was chosen perfectly! There’s a ferry here—people traveling by water come and go, and there’s Feilai Mountain, drawing crowds. Those who can afford leisure travel always have more money and free time than we hardworking folk. I reckon the deity’s temple here won’t lack incense!” a craftsman declared loudly.

“True. These travelers ask for directions, beg for water, shelter from rain, or rest in the shade—won’t they burn three sticks of incense?” another craftsman chimed in.

“Are the fruits on the other side of the mountain ripe? I saw someone offer a few fruits to the deity today. According to old custom, shouldn’t we take them and eat them after we finish work?”

“The deity has already eaten! Now it’s our turn!”

“Haha, and two taels of meat too!”

“Hahaha…”

Clearly, building this temple was indeed a fine job.

Emotions are contagious; the craftsmen’s joy and ease infected Lin Jue, and even when burning incense, he couldn’t help smiling.

He wondered whether “taking the temple’s offerings to eat after work” was revealed to them in a dream by the Southern Celestial Master, or told by some extraordinary figure from the Immortal Gathering Mansion or an official from the Ministry of Rites.

Amidst the blue smoke, Lin Jue bowed three times before inserting the grass incense into the clay block.

“The Five Viscera…”

The deity statue was crafted with care.

But new statues like this usually lack spirit—they require either the deity’s personal visit or prolonged sincere worship by devotees before the spirit awakens.

As for Lin Jue…

After one stick of incense burned down, the statue opened its eyes, staring directly at him; yet since it was still daytime and craftsmen still labored on the roof, it quickly closed them again.

Lin Jue couldn’t help smiling again—

Attaining true immortality has its downsides: old friends pass away one by one, like fallen leaves in the wind, leaving you alone. But it has its joys too: no matter where you go, find any temple or shrine, and nine times out of ten, you can summon an old acquaintance—you can always talk and laugh with them wherever you are.

…

In the Jiangnan region, there was a chess master.

This master was still young, in his thirties, yet already famed throughout the land. Even in the capital, chess experts traveled to challenge him; lovers of the game came to visit; high officials repeatedly sent envoys to invite him to their mansions to play, to teach disciples, or even to become their disciple.

Those nearby numbered in the countless.

Lin Jue stood atop the tiled rooftops of the street outside the master’s home, walking on thunderclouds; passersby bustled about, yet none saw him.

Suddenly, a whistle came from behind.

Turning, he saw a white fox stepping through the air, brushing past in a flash, arriving atop the thundercloud, looking up at him.

“Why are you here?”

“Foxes can also have manifestations!” the fox said. “Foxes can manifest too!”

“I see.”

Lin Jue said no more, continuing to gaze downward.

This chess master’s surname was Gu; those who respected him called him Master Gu.

Below was the Gu household.

The Gu household’s gate remained closed, yet visitors kept arriving—each seeking chess, either to challenge, to seek advice; the gatekeeper could only grimace and politely turn them away one after another.

Inside the courtyard, however, all was quiet—only Master Gu and his wife walked hand in hand, discussing chess, seemingly deeply affectionate.

“So many people!” the fox stared at the gate below.

“Indeed.”

“They all brought gifts!” the fox glanced at the visitors’ invitation scrolls and gift boxes, then at the Daoist’s empty hands.

“Indeed.”

“That woman! She’s a demon!” the fox fixed its gaze on Master Gu’s wife.

“Indeed.”

“Her cultivation is extremely high!!”

“She carries no evil aura. When I came, I inquired—this couple are both benevolent, generous, and utterly obsessed with chess,” Lin Jue said. “Perhaps she’s merely a demon equally obsessed with chess, choosing a mortal chess master as her companion. In previous dynasties, such a tale would have been celebrated as a beautiful legend.”

“Do not gaze improperly!”

oC〇

“Huh? You’re teaching me now?”

“You’re just a manifestation!”

“Aren’t you one too?” Lin Jue smiled. “Still, you’re right—we shouldn’t watch anymore.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Only the old method: disturb him in the dead of night,” Lin Jue sighed. “I’ll replay my game with the Old Heavenly Weng in his dream and see if he’s interested.”

“Ahh~~”

The fox yawned, sat down, and scratched its head with its hind leg.

…

Master Gu slept a clear dream.

It was indeed a refined dream—the kind he often had about chess. Music, chess, calligraphy, painting—all elegant pursuits; such dreams were naturally refined.

But today’s dream was unusual.

The difference lay not in his usual dream of playing chess with someone or struggling with a difficult position, but in another man bringing him a chess position to consult him. And the dream was unusually vivid and clear: every word the man spoke, every expression, every move of the game, his own explanations and teachings—all remained crystal clear.

So much so that he now felt exhausted, dizzy, and blurred-eyed.

“Ah…”

Master Gu rubbed his head and sighed deeply.

A beautiful woman in white robes immediately entered; seeing him like this, she asked with concern:

“My lord, what’s wrong?”

“I had a very long dream.”

“Isn’t dreaming normal?” the woman smiled, reaching to stroke his furrowed brow. “Why are you so tense?”

“It was about a chess game.”

“Don’t you often dream about chess?”

“This dream was different. In past chess dreams, I’d forget them upon waking, and by the time I sat up, I’d forgotten nearly everything. But this game—I remember every detail clearly even now. And it’s strange.”

“Tell me then!”

The woman, also obsessed with chess, immediately sat down upon hearing he remembered the dream’s game.

Master Gu didn’t hesitate; frowning in puzzlement, he began to recount:

“In the dream, there was a Daoist—seemed young, around twenty, but carried great dignity and courtesy, and was utterly candid. He told me plainly that he played chess with a Heavenly Weng , but his skill was too poor, the Heavenly Weng found him tiresome, and he lost quickly, leaving the Heavenly Weng unsatisfied. He’d heard of me, so he came to visit, to replay the game for me and ask for my advice.”

“What did you say?”

“Of course I was interested—I examined his game.”

As a chess master, his memory was extraordinary; he immediately brought out a chessboard and began placing the pieces according to the dream’s position.

As he placed each piece, he explained:

“The man was a skilled player—good, even excellent—but compared to the ‘Heavenly Weng ’ he described, he was far inferior. The gap was so vast I couldn’t discern the Heavenly Weng ’s skill. I merely explained the game to him, pointed out key moves, taught him from different critical points, and replayed it with him several times.”

“In the dream, it was barely one night, yet I felt it lasted forever.”

“Then he left, thanked me.”

“He said he meets this Heavenly Weng every year on the twenty-first day of the first lunar month, and will visit me again next year.”

“Now I feel as if I haven’t slept at all.”

The woman listened to him speak, her gaze drifting to the chessboard as she said, “My lord suspects that this dream did not arise from nothing—that some divine spirit or phantom truly visited you in your sleep to play chess with you?”

“Do you believe such a thing is possible?”

“Books are full of such tales, and stories abound with them,”

“but how could so many truly exist? Besides, ‘Heavenly Old Man’—that was an ancient title for the Heavenly Emperor; today, the altars enshrine only the Purple Emperor. Where is there any such thing as a ‘Heavenly Old Man’? Even if one did exist, who could possibly play chess with a Heavenly Old Man?”

The woman smiled as she analyzed his words.

She analyzed them, yet she did not believe any divine spirit or phantom had truly visited him in a dream.

For she was not human at all, but a demon, and she considered herself highly accomplished in the Dao, having cultivated for over a hundred years—she had even accompanied this very man through three lifetimes.

Last night, she had slept right beside her husband’s pillow. How could any ordinary spirit or phantom simply appear in his dream without her noticing?

“My lord must be obsessed with chess to an extreme degree, his fingers itching for a game, which is why he dreamed this—and then invented a story within the dream, a chessboard, exhausting his spirit so thoroughly that he grew weary.” She rubbed his temples with her snow-white wrist. “Dreaming always drains the spirit. Let me massage you, then brew a calming tea for your soul—you’ll feel better after drinking it.”

“Probably…”

Master Gu hesitated, but nodded anyway.

“The twenty-first of the first month…”

“Playing chess with the Heavenly Old Man…”

“Come visit again next year…”

A whole year—how long that seems.