Chapter 74: Fuxiu Is the True Temple, Yishan Holds Immortals

A middle-aged man in black robes came up the mountain, leading a lame donkey, a standard-issue long knife hanging at his waist—clearly a constable.

The snow and wind on the mountain were far heavier than below; though he wore thin clothing, even as he climbed, his lips turned blue with cold, his eyebrows and hair crusted with ice, his soles thickened by packed snow, and both he and the donkey were covered in snow.

As he walked, the constable glanced left and right.

Seeing Lin Jue in his Daoist robe and the splash of crimson amid the frozen sky, he froze, then nervously bowed and asked, “Might I ask—is this Fuxiu Peak? Fuxiu Guan?”

“It is.”

Lin Jue hurried forward to greet him: “Good sir, you are…”

“Oh, I’m a constable from Yixian below the mountain, sent by the Daoists of Qiyun Mountain to deliver a letter to the Daoists of Fuxiu Guan.”

“Qiyun Mountain?”

Lin Jue immediately understood.

He had not expected the Daoists of Qiyun Mountain’s Xuantian Guan to truly send a formal written letter regarding the demon extermination.

Several months had passed since then; surely the matter in Yixian was settled.

He hadn’t expected it to take this long.

The snow and wind on the mountain were fierce, yet the constable stood in it, quietly studying him and the fox at his feet, his eyes often gleaming with strange wonder. Lin Jue dared not ask more here, fearing he might neglect or freeze the man, so he quickly extended his hand and said:

“It’s too cold outside—please follow me.”

“Thank you, Daoist…”

“No need for thanks.”

The constable followed Lin Jue toward the temple gate, glancing around as he walked. When the young Daoist pushed the door open with a creak and the fox paused to watch him, he quickly averted his gaze and stepped inside—but still couldn’t help scanning every detail of the temple interior.

It was a quiet, classical Daoist temple.

Inside was a courtyard, the ground entirely covered in snow, neatly laid out; only one set of footprints marred it—clearly from the young Daoist stepping out—but numerous fox and cat prints dotted the snow.

Among them was one other set…

The constable’s gaze followed the paw prints—larger than a cat’s—leading to the ancient pine in the courtyard, between two pavilion roofs, where a tail hung down.

Hidden in mountain mist, they sleep in these clouded caves.

It was a cloud leopard!

The constable startled, quickly pulling his gaze away.

The temple was indeed quiet and classical—but clearly extraordinary.

The constable naturally dared not show disrespect—

The Daoists of Qiyun Mountain’s Xuantian Guan had only last night summoned heavenly soldiers to slay the great demon lurking behind the city’s troubles; the commotion was known to all, leaving even the county and prefectural officials astonished and awed. Yet in the very first moment after slaying the demon, they had sent him here with a letter—everyone knew this temple and its Daoists were no ordinary lot.

Moreover, as a constable of Yixian, he had heard since childhood the legends of immortals from Yishan; only before, in times of peace, the mountain paths had been too treacherous, the Daoists too reclusive, and they had rarely interacted with them.

This Fuxiu Guan was his first visit.

The constable shifted his gaze forward—

The young Daoist wore far thinner clothing than he did, stood still in the mountain cold, yet showed no sign of shivering.

“The main hall has only mats, no chairs, and it’s too vast and empty; we rarely have visitors, so let’s sit in the dining hall instead.” Lin Jue led him to the dining hall, shut the door against the wind, fetched a brazier and charcoal, lit it, and placed it before the constable. “Warm yourself first.”

“Thank you, thank you…”

The constable quickly extended his hands toward the brazier.

He hadn’t felt it while walking, but now that he sat still, his whole body trembled. Though the brazier radiated warmth, it took time to reach his core; the contrast only made the cold feel sharper.

The constable glanced at Lin Jue.

How did they endure such bitter winter cold here, dressed so lightly?

The Daoists of Qiyun Mountain’s Xuantian Guan wore winter clothes too and still felt the chill down below—much less so here, where the cold was even worse.

Lin Jue remained calm, brought a teapot, heated it by the brazier, and poured him a cup.

After a brief hesitation, he took out a small vial he had just retrieved from the Alchemy Pavilion—still unplaced at his quarters—and, facing away from the constable, dropped a single drop of spirit fluid into the cup.

“Drink some tea—it may help.” Lin Jue said. “My master is likely asleep now, but he should wake soon—I’ll go call him.”

“Thank you.”

The constable cupped the tea, staring down at it.

For some reason, beyond the tea’s aroma, there was another faint, pure fragrance.

Merely smelling it brought comfort. And the tea was slightly hot—holding it in his hands during winter, warmth seeped steadily from the cup, steadily driving back the cold, offering deep relief.

The constable thought nothing else, and took a sip.

He had not expected that, beyond its warmth, a strange, soothing heat and clarity flowed from his throat straight to his chest and abdomen, then naturally spread through every limb and vein.

His lips and teeth retained the fragrance.

If one called it good tea, yet with just one sip, the chill in his body vanished instantly—his numb, aching fingers and toes regained full mobility, and he felt a surge of vitality throughout his body.

“This…”

The constable froze in astonishment.

He knew at once—this tea was extraordinary.

Fuxiu Guan was truly the true Dao.

Immortals truly dwelled in Yishan.

He lowered his gaze—the fox lay beside the brazier, tilting its head to look at him.

…

Moments later.

A group of Daoists surrounded him, led by an old Daoist with white hair and beard, his expression drowsy.

“Old Daoist, Old Immortal—this is the letter entrusted to me by the Daoists of Xuantian Guan.” The constable pulled out a slightly damp envelope from his robe and offered it reverently.

The envelope bore the words: “To the Daoist Friend of Fuxiu Guan.”

No specific name was written.

The old Daoist opened the envelope, unfolded the letter—Lin Jue and several senior brothers stood behind, watching.

A page of elegant, floral-style small regular script, beautifully written.

As the constable spoke:

“The Daoists of Qiyun Mountain’s Xuantian Guan stayed in the city for months, setting up altars daily and arranging offerings nightly, traveling far and wide. I heard them speak with the city’s elite, saying they laid a heavenly net, summoned the Thunder Department’s Thunder Lords for thorough investigation, consulted the Earth God and Village Spirits, and finally, just before the New Year, uncovered the demon hiding behind the scenes.”

“It was a fierce great demon—a rat transformed.”

“And the great demon had lesser spirits under its command.”

“It’s said the Divine Lord Yi Li descended personally to slay it; during the battle, many Daoists of Xuantian Guan were caught in the crossfire and injured. Those unharmed were already ill from sleepless nights and exposure to wind and rain—otherwise, they would have come themselves to deliver this letter. They asked me to convey their apologies and ask for your understanding.”

As he spoke, the constable’s eyes widened.

He had never in his life imagined witnessing a Divine Lord descend personally to slay a demon.

Such tales were only heard in ghost stories.

Yet it had happened right beside him.

The old Daoist kept reading.

The letter’s contents matched his account closely.

Indeed, a powerful rat demon.

It stole silver and hoarded wealth to flee to remote lands, build temples, erect idols, gather followers, and collect incense offerings to become a malevolent deity.

Yet beyond the origin and the slain demon, the letter specifically thanked the Daoists of Fuxiu Guan for their prior warning—its wording was refined, its format precise, and its tone deeply solemn.

“Ah…”

Yunhe Daoist folded the letter.

Lin Jue stood behind him, thinking.

When Sixth Senior Brother summoned the spirit-medium to compose poetry, he had said this matter would not be easy.

Lin Jue did not know how accurate the spirit-medium’s predictions usually were, nor whether the Divine Lord Yi Li’s descent and the injury of the Xuantian Guan Daoists counted as the “difficulty” mentioned—but he assumed a Divine Lord’s personal intervention was reliable.

This Divine Lord was a true Celestial Lord, one of the oldest and most revered among them; even Daoists of the Spirit Law Sect who reached the “Attaining the True, Attaining the Dao” state and ascended to immortality might not surpass him in power or status.

If even the Divine Lord could not handle it, then Fuxiu Guan’s Daoists had no place to intervene.

And they could not question the Divine Lord either.

“Since the Daoists of Xuantian Guan have already summoned a true Lord to slay the demon, the city must now be peaceful. If anything else arises, come to Fuxiu Peak or go to Qiyun Mountain to ask them.” Yunhe Daoist placed the letter aside and said to the constable, “It’s already late today; the journey to the city takes a full day. Our temple has guest quarters—stay the night, and leave tomorrow.”

“I’m just an ordinary constable—how could I deserve the title ‘Captain’ from an Immortal?”

“I’m just an ordinary old Daoist—how could I deserve the title ‘Immortal’ from a Captain?” Yunhe Daoist laughed, stood, and turned to Lin Jue. “Delivering letters is never easy, especially on mountain paths. Prepare a fine dinner to honor the Captain.”

“Understood.”

This was only proper.

…

In the temple, Lin Jue held full authority over food.

The old Daoist ordered him, and he ordered the senior brothers.

These senior brothers, eager for a good meal, fully respected his authority—he spoke, and they obeyed.

At this moment, the temple echoed with the squealing of a pig, shaking the forest.

When the young junior sister returned from repairing the road, she saw several senior brothers pinning down a pig; Third Senior Brother held a long sword, flicked a blade flourish, and plunged it into the pig’s throat.

Sixth Senior Brother caught the blood in a basin.

The pig struggled desperately, kicking the courtyard snow into a muddy mess.

“…”

The young junior sister scratched her head.

So cruel, so tempting.

In no time, the pig was fully butchered; by the time dusk fell, Lin Jue was already busy in the kitchen.

The junior sister held a colorful leopard cat, tending the fire; the darkness and flickering flames played off each other as she looked up at Lin Jue: “Brother, weren’t we supposed to slaughter the pig in a few days? Why today?”

“We have guests today.”

“Huh?”

“A constable from Yixian braved the snowstorm to deliver a letter. The Daoists from Qiyun Mountain’s Xuantian Shrine wrote it, specifically to inform us that the demons in Yixian have been eliminated.”

“All the way here just to deliver a letter? In this snow?”

“Yes.”

The junior sister nodded, dispelling her confusion, then her eyes lit up: “Brother, I have something to tell you!”

“What is it?”

“I found a little tree in the mountains! It’s a treasure! Right at the bottom of the highest valley where I was repairing the path—when the mist rolls in, it glows. It’s far better than any herbs I’ve picked before, or even the ones you’ve gathered on the mountain!” The junior sister was thrilled, but then hesitated, troubled: “It’s just hard to reach, and it seems some mountain spirits are guarding it—otherwise I’d have picked it for you to brew pills and medicines.”

“Oh…”

Lin Jue replied calmly: “I saw it long ago. I saw it again yesterday while gathering herbs.”

“Huh?”

“There are indeed spirits guarding it—many of them. Even if you got down there, you couldn’t pick it.”

“Is it owned by someone?”

“Hard to say…”

“Then what do we do?”

“I’m thinking about it too…”

As Lin Jue cooked, a thoughtful expression crossed his face.

He had been pondering this for several days already.

At first, he had no solution—even asking his second brother only earned a smile and the advice to follow his destiny. But yesterday, while gathering herbs with his second brother, the latter’s words gave him a new insight.

“I think I have an idea, though I’m not sure if it’ll work. I’ll observe for a few more days,” Lin Jue said. “By the way, I wanted to tell you—if it works, next time you’ll come with me.”

“Should we tell the other brothers?”

“I already did. My second brother said that since we encountered it, it’s our fate. Yishan is vast—they have their own destinies.”

“Understood.”

The junior sister answered with perfect sincerity.