Chapter 76: Fundraising

One moment of distraction, and it was New Year’s Eve.

The ground was too cold, so Lin Jue pulled over Fuyao’s cushion and sat cross-legged in the room, while Fuyao stood beside him, watching intently.

In his hand was a piece of wooden branch.

He calmed his mind, lowered his head, and a silent force clung to the branch, which he then tossed aside.

Fuyao instinctively drew toward it and immediately turned its head to look.

Fortunately, it did not rush over to pick it up.

.￠〇

Lin Jue fixed his gaze on the branch and murmured silently.

He whispered a few obscure incantations.

“Whaa…”

The branch rolled once along the ground.

“Uhh?”

The fox immediately tilted its head, staring at the branch.

Lin Jue changed his incantation.

The branch shot upward.

With a rapid succession of cryptic incantations, the branch moved left and right through the air, spinning.

“…”

The branch finally landed on the ground.

Lin Jue exhaled slowly.

Lately, he had not devoted much thought to this spell, since he was still learning alchemy, but he had gradually mastered it through intermittent practice.

This “Spell Control” was not difficult to learn.

The difficulty lay in mastering it thoroughly.

Because this spell relied entirely on incantations to control objects, there were many different incantations, each serving a distinct purpose; to sustain motion, one had to chant continuously, and to make the object fly exactly as one wished, one needed perfect command of the incantations, rapid speech, and long-term practice.

In Lin Jue’s view, this spell had two drawbacks:

One was that it could not manipulate any object at will—you could not simply spot a stone, a branch, or someone’s sword and control it instantly; you had to first take it in hand and imprint it with a specific force before you could control it with incantations.

The other was that it required constant chanting.

Like the bald demon he had encountered before, who had mastered this spell well, yet still chose to hide while controlling it—if one wished to reach the point of casting spells and manipulating objects while fighting, who knew how much effort it would take? Even with mastery, one still had to divide one’s focus.

Thus, Lin Jue had not invested much energy into it.

Now, snapping back to awareness, he saw his pet fox standing before him, tilting its head and staring.

“?”

Its clear eyes were filled with confusion.

Lin Jue thought it was amazed by his spell or the flying stick, or perhaps interested in the branch—but then he saw it lower its head, gaze at the cushion beneath him, extend a slender leg onto it, then lift its head again to stare at him.

It tilted its head slightly.

“Oh…”

Lin Jue rose and returned the cushion to it.

Just then, a voice called out from outside: “Senior Brother!”

…

In the mountain temple’s kitchen, an unusual fragrance wafted out.

It was a blend of spices, simmered for over half an hour, releasing rich meat aromas from the rendered fat—deeply enticing.

Several senior brothers kept glancing toward the kitchen, but none could leave just then.

Third Senior Brother pinched a boat-shaped dough, faintly revealing the filling inside, frowned, glanced between the two brothers shaping the dough and using chopsticks to scoop filling, then compared it to the sample dumpling on the bamboo tray, and asked Lin Jue:

“Junior Brother, is it like this?”

“Close enough,” Lin Jue said, rolling out dough. “It’s fine as it is.”

“Alright then.”

Third Senior Brother placed it on the bamboo tray.

Everyone turned to observe one another, learning by example; the bamboo tray soon filled with dumplings, and they switched to a larger basket.

Even Master Yunhe was dragged over, squinting closely at the folding.

Whether it was the dumplings Lin Jue described or the act of making them, they all found it novel, yet they trusted Lin Jue completely—whatever he said, they did.

Slowly, the sky darkened.

Inside the kitchen, flickering firelight bathed the walls, casting the junior sister’s shadow as Lin Jue lifted the pot lid; steam surged upward, glowing golden in the firelight.

The pot boiled with water, floating with dumplings.

Lin Jue scooped them up with a gourd ladle.

“Take them out.”

He told the junior sister, then cleaned the pot, ladled in a few more scoops of water, and let it warm slowly from the embers—ready later for washing dishes—before stepping out of the kitchen.

Outside, the sky was not yet fully dark.

As soon as he stepped out, he saw the last glow of daylight; an ancient pine stood in the courtyard, Seventh Senior Brother standing on a stool, holding a lantern, muttering a few incantations—its light flared into a dusk-like glow, then he hung it on the tree.

Through the front hall, one could see the dining hall clearly, bright with lamps and rising steam.

Third Senior Brother was carrying wine.

The junior sister ran over calling to him.

Seventh Senior Brother, after hanging the lantern, also called to him.

Even on this cold mountain, the New Year’s spirit was not thin.

Lin Jue went over and sat down.

On the table were braised chicken, duck, and pig’s head; stewed stinky mandarin fish and steamed Dao Ban Xiang, all neatly sliced, alongside freshly boiled dumplings steaming hot. Rice wine poured into bowls frothed with bubbles; lantern light swayed, and every Daoist’s face wore a smile—amid the heavy snow and wind of this deep mountain, there was such warmth.

“I’ve never seen such a lavish New Year’s meal!” Third Senior Brother chuckled. “Master should’ve taken a cook as a disciple long ago!”

“What did you eat on New Year’s Eve before?” Lin Jue asked.

“We ate the same things,” Third Senior Brother said.

“Boiled in plain water,” Seventh Senior Brother said.

“Ah, what hard times we had back then, yet we pretended it was carefree, thinking this was just how mountain life was, never feeling the hardship,” Third Senior Brother sighed, shaking his head.

“Eat, eat, eat…”

The Daoists picked up their chopsticks.

First chopstick, of course, went straight for the dumplings—after all, they had worked on them.

In winter, a few seasonal vegetables were available; Lin Jue used them as filling—mixed with meat or egg, plus pickled cabbage from the jar—each with its own flavor.

Second chopstick went for the braised meat.

“Oh my!”

Dozens of wide, astonished eyes.

These Daoists had never tasted such delicacies, never known meat could be cooked this way—even if they went down the mountain, such flavors were hard to find; for a moment, they nearly forgot to drink.

No one praised; only the sound of hurried swallowing filled the room.

Even the well-traveled Master Yunhe ate half-full before setting down his chopsticks, finally having leisure to speak:

“Another year has passed…”

“How old is Master?”

“Deep in the mountains, one forgets cold and heat; old age forgets to count years. At our age, each year is one less—why count?”

“Oh…”

“By the way, since none of you are going home, this year’s Lantern Festival in town—you, Seventh, take two junior brothers and sisters to stroll, and get two new robes made.”

“Understood.”

“There’s also a matter of business.”

“What matter?”

“It’s the same as before—the Fourth Auntie of Jian Dao Peak has cultivated successfully, fulfilled her merit, and is about to become a deity.”

Master Yunhe paused:

“She was supposed to wait a few more years, but earlier, when you went down the mountain to hunt demons and recover Qian Cai, you gathered some human favor. Later, when the Divine Lord investigated demonic affairs, he summoned the Fourth Auntie’s descendants for questioning. He said they helped purge the city of rat spirits. She was already just short of merit—now that’s all covered, and with the Divine Lord’s good word, she’s advanced years ahead.”

“Hmm…”

“A deity needs a temple. The Fourth Auntie wants to build one at the foot of Jian Dao Peak for worship. But you know—they never touch worldly Qian Cai.” Master Yunhe said to Seventh Senior Brother. “This money must come from the people’s donations. I thought about it—only you can handle it.”

“Come to think of it, last time Third Senior Brother asked the Fourth Auntie to send her descendants to help us in town, the fish they demanded—I went to the mountain stream and caught them myself. Took three days to gather enough.”

“Then eat two more pieces of meat.”

“Ah…”

Seventh Senior Brother sighed, as if he knew he was the only one left to bear it.

But at this moment, this small chore meant nothing—he soon forgot it.

All that could be heard was Third Senior Brother scolding someone for a poorly made dumpling; Sixth Senior Brother blamed First Senior Brother, who denied it; suspicion spread among them, brotherly bonds facing great strain.

This harmonious atmosphere made Lin Jue feel dazed.

For a moment, he thought it might be nice to stay like this forever.

Yet thinking of Fuxiu Temple’s traditions, and Master Yunhe’s worsening health, he knew this could not last—and sighed inwardly.

A glance aside revealed that he was not the only one lost in thought.

Nor was the little junior sister seated across from him.

At her home, during New Year’s Eve dinner, it was uncertain whether a girl like her would even be allowed at the table—but certainly, no such place as this Daoist observatory, indifferent to gender, could ever exist; moreover, whether Master Yunhe or the senior brothers, all treated the two of them with special care.

To sit in daze for a while was perfectly normal.

“Thump, thump, thump…”

Deep in the mountains, another knock came at the door.

“Who is it?”

The third senior brother’s expression remained calm; he rose at once to investigate, returned shortly after, and smiled: “A mountain spirit, drawn by the unusual fragrance from our observatory tonight—just came to beg for some food.”

His expression remained perfectly calm.

As if he had long grown used to such things.

He then took out some meat and gave it to the visitor.

This was life in the mountains.

…

Waking from sleep, it was already the new year.

The Yishan Mountains under snow truly resembled a realm of ice and frost—too bad the ingredients for Second Senior Brother’s Divine Speed Pills were hard to find; he couldn’t indulge freely. Otherwise, now that Lin Jue had mastered his cultivation method through ingestion, consuming them would bring no side effects—imagine how freely he could leap through these mountains.

Yet Lin Jue often went out, seeking a stone mountain in the hills to cultivate; every seven days, he refined a bottle of spirit liquid, divided it into three portions, and took the little junior sister and the fox to water the trees.

Soon, the fifteenth day of the first month arrived.

Lin Jue wrapped tangyuan, boiled rice wine, and fried eggs in their shells; the senior brothers ate while staring blankly, unable to resist recalling past years.

When they finished, it was time to descend the mountain.

“Brother Donkey, Brother Donkey, you’ll have to bear the burden again—if we had extra money, we’d treat you to a better meal.”

The seventh senior brother stroked the donkey’s neck.

The donkey remained silent.

He then called for Lin Jue and the little junior sister, and they descended the mountain.

Passing the hot spring, Lin Jue habitually asked whether the spirit was still there—no reply—so they continued toward the city.

“Most spirits aspire to become gods, but seeking legitimate divine worship through illicit means? How can that work? Take the spirit in the city—it stole money to build a temple, bought faith with coins. Not only has it failed to succeed, but even if it did, heaven would never recognize it—it would merely be a demon god. Even if it somehow tricked its way past inspection and gained recognition, it would eventually slip into the path of darkness.” The seventh senior brother spoke as they walked. “Temples must be funded by the people’s voluntary donations—the more donors, the better. This kind of work? It still falls to me.”

“What do you plan to do?”

Lin Jue knew only that he had made a banner—cloth inscribed with a plea to raise funds for a temple for the Daoist companions of Jianbao Peak—but he had no idea how the seventh senior brother intended to collect.

Was he going door to door?

“Have you forgotten what your senior brother studies?” The seventh senior brother glanced at him. “Since this is for building a divine temple, the funds must be sought openly and honorably from the people—and luckily, tonight’s lantern festival will be crowded.”

“Oh…”

Lin Jue suddenly understood.

…

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