Chapter 439: The Trial of the Forerunner

The temple ahead had not opened its doors.

Above it were written three large characters: "Yuanjue Hall."

Sui Yan knew without needing to open it—the deity enshrined within was either the Buddha Amitabha or the Twelve Yuanjue Bodhisattvas.

Who exactly was inside didn't matter; what mattered was the aura.

A stench of blood surged like a river, veering off the mountain path, cutting through thick mist, leading to the other side.

At the end of that bloodstained scent stood another temple, faintly visible, bearing the three characters: "Xuehe Hall."

When Li Yan saw it, his eyes flickered with shock and doubt.

He had studied the map of Ming Mountain—an older version, slightly different from his past life—and outside Xuehe Hall lay Naihe Bridge.

Beneath Naihe Bridge flowed a waterway, known to the common folk as Huangquan.

Come to think of it, there truly was a waterway, beginning at Yuanjue Hall and stretching all the way to Naihe Bridge…

Li Yan stared at the aura, a sudden understanding stirring in his heart.

This was likely a shortcut—following this path would let him bypass the array and cut through half the journey.

Everything tonight had surpassed his imagination.

It seemed as if every mortal deity of Ming Mountain had come alive, trapping him within some grand array for trial.

This feeling was somewhat like the Xuan Realm of Baotong Chan Temple.

But far more mysterious and eerie.

Li Yan was certain this had nothing to do with the Huangquan Organization.

Yet who was behind it all remained a complete mystery to him.

Without hesitation, Li Yan turned away from the bloody Huangquan shortcut and continued along the mountain path.

Though he didn't understand what was happening, two lifetimes of experience told him: heaven never drops pies from the sky.

Sometimes, what seems like a shortcut to gain may one day demand a far greater price.

Soon, the Buddhist hall was left far behind.

Amid the thick mist to his left, another temple appeared—small, even dilapidated, yet thick with incense.

Above it were written the three characters: "Tudi Temple."

Seeing it, Li Yan bowed slightly.

"Treading upon the soil, bearing the peace of ten thousand homes"—Tudi might hold the humblest divine office, yet he was the most grounded; countless villages and towns worshipped him.

Li Yan had always held affection for this mortal deity.

As for why he was enshrined atop Ming Mountain, the reason was simple: legend said the first stop for all souls bound for the Underworld was Tudi Temple.

Indeed, Tudi Temple offered no obstruction.

The incense within remained the same—calm, reassuring.

Beyond Tudi Temple lay the Sanqing Hall.

Like the earlier Yuanjue Hall, Sanqing Hall's doors were tightly shut, hidden within the mist, indistinct and utterly still.

Li Yan bowed respectfully and pressed onward.

The path ahead, as expected, presented another trial.

After walking less than a hundred meters, a chorus of "xixi hahaha" laughter erupted from the mist—like countless infants playing.

The laughter carried childlike joy, lulling one's guard down; Li Yan's expression grew dazed, a faint tenderness rising in his heart, urging him to see what these creatures were.

But at that moment, a jolt struck his mind.

He snapped awake—suddenly noticing, within the mist to his right, a small temple with its door wide open, dim candlelight flickering, unattended.

Upon the altar stood a statue of a woman, her face gentle, cradling a chubby baby.

Beneath the statue lay countless ceramic dolls, male and female, all plump and pale, resembling the lucky children of New Year paintings.

Many of the dolls were tied with red strings.

Looking up, he confirmed—it was the Songzi Hall.

This was "tying the doll."

In many regions of Shenzhou, this custom prevailed.

Women seeking children would come to the Songzi Hall, choose a doll they liked, tie a red string to it, and later, upon giving birth, return to untie the string as an offering.

In some places, service was even more thorough: for a few silver coins, one could take the doll home, and the temple attendant would replace it, ensuring the total never fell below three hundred and sixty.

As for the identity of the Songzi Niangniang, some said she was the wife of the Eastern Peak Emperor; others, Guanyin.

This one before him was likely the wife of the Eastern Peak Emperor.

Such mortal deities were neither ascended beings nor deified through human or ghost worship—they arose from collective belief, embodying the people's cherished wish for lineage to continue.

Li Yan raised his wrist to sniff—and indeed, a wisp of incense aura appeared, faintly shaped like a cord.

"What are you meddling in…?"

Li Yan smiled, formed a hand seal with his left hand, summoned Yang Thunder Art, and with his right palm, a flicker of lightning arced—lightly brushing the incense, severing it.

"Xixi hahaha…"

Inside the temple, amid the children's laughter, the white porcelain dolls seemed to tremble.

Li Yan shook his head slightly and continued walking.

Ahead appeared another temple: Qianshou Hall.

Without even looking, he knew it enshrined Guanyin Bodhisattva.

Compared to the Buddha, Guanyin had many forms, each representing a different meaning.

Yangliu Guanyin, great compassion, dispelling illness; Longtou Guanyin, subduing demons; Chijing Guanyin, symbolizing wisdom; Yuanguang Guanyin, guiding beings; Baiyi Guanyin, cleansing sins; Lianwo Guanyin, signifying peace and freedom…

Her incense was equally among the most potent in Shenzhou.

Qianshou Guanyin represented countless methods to save all beings.

Li Yan's expression turned grave as he stepped forward.

Instantly, he was plunged into confusion—memories flooded his vision, leaving him rooted in place.

Many events shifted endlessly in his mind.

He had rushed straight to Lantian County, found a Daoist, had him perform rites to banish the Cold Altar's demonic soldiers, temporarily lifting the threat—only to lose his awakening chance; within two days, mysterious figures came and tortured his family to death…

He thought Wang Daoxuan's cultivation was too low and passed him by, but the Xuan Sect rejected him, so he took jobs with Sha Li Fei, was hunted by the imperial court, and died under the assault of Commandant-level experts…

Not only pasts, but futures too.

His cultivation deepened gradually; he finally found Zhao Changsheng—yet was still toyed with by the man's schemes, dying in bitter frustration…

Desperate for power, he began practicing the "Immortal Treasury of Longevity," quickly becoming a demonic overlord, unleashing the Seventy-Two Demon Lords, plunging the realm into chaos, staining the land with blood, and going mad under heavenly thunder…

These experiences tormented him again and again.

Finally, Li Yan gained clarity.

Past mistakes and future fears were both mind demons.

He stopped dwelling on what he could not control, merely reflected on the past, learned from it, focused on the present, and fully sensed his own self.

After an indeterminate time, the illusions vanished entirely.

Li Yan fell silent for a moment, bowed slightly, then walked away swiftly.

Though trapped in illusion here and losing much time, his spirit had been tempered—whether for good or ill, he could not tell.

Thick mist swirled around him, dull and disorienting—he could not sense time at all, a hallmark of array illusions, yet now it felt simple.

Li Yan pulled out his pocket watch and froze.

In the blink of an eye, it was already Choushi.

The trials ahead grew ever more varied.

The next obstacle was Niuwang Hall, which did not enshrine Ox-Head or Horse-Face, but the Ox Deity.

The people of Bashu held deep affection for oxen, saying, "Those who gave me life are my parents; those who raised me are oxen." Every year on the first day of the tenth month, they held the "Niuwang Festival," a scene of great festivity. Outside Niuwang Hall, incense aura surged like stampeding herds, and the sound of Bashu's "Hao Cao Luogu" drums echoed in his ears.

Li Yan, anxious, gripped the Divine Tiger Talisman and activated the "Northern Emperor's Protective Spell"—tiger roars erupted, scattering the incense aura around him…

Then came Caishen Hall, Sanguan Hall, and Shi Wang Hall.

Caishen Hall dazzled with countless illusions…

Inside Sanguan Hall, three incense auras took spectral form and battled him—Tian Guan granting blessings, Di Guan pardoning sins, Shui Guan relieving calamities—three distinct forces forced him to expend another heavenly thunder…

At Shi Wang Hall, it grew even more horrific.

According to Xuan Sect lore, the Ten Kings were under the command of the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor—technically, his own people.

Yet these "own people" seemed far stricter.

Qin Guang Wang held the Book of Life and Death; in an instant, he seemed to strip Li Yan's flesh, then Chu Jiang Wang cast him into the Living Earth Hell—iron beds, steel forks, blade leaves, plowing fields—every torture cycled relentlessly.

Here, he lost all power to resist; barely surviving, he was thrown into the Black Rope Earth Hell…

!.

Through repeated tortures, Li Yan's spirit nearly shattered—luckily, his Luofa Body eased the damage to his soul.

Even so, after passing the Ten Halls, he was weak in limbs, vision darkening, nearly collapsing to the ground.

Of course, there were benefits.

His cultivation had advanced too swiftly; these tortures seemed to strip away every impurity from his soul, solidifying his foundation.

But Li Yan felt no gratitude whatsoever.

His face darkened as he touched the Five Directions Luo Feng Flag in his sleeve, vaguely piecing things together, gritting his teeth and pressing forward.

Beyond Naihe Bridge and Xuehe Hall came another trial—thick blood qi coalesced into Huangquan, as if countless yin souls shrieked, tempting him to leap in.

Behind him, voices of loved ones kept calling.

Wang Daoxuan, Sha Lifei, and Lu San cried for help…

His grandfather wept, recounting the torments he suffered in hell…

Li Yan ignored them, activated the Northern Emperor's Protective Charm, and accelerated.

The remaining Queen Mother Palace, Jade Emperor Palace, and Star Lord Hall all had their gates tightly shut, until finally the Son of Heaven Hall.

The Son of Heaven Hall still enshrined the Northern Yin Fengdu Great Emperor.

After Li Yan stepped inside, there was no unusual sign; he furrowed his brow slightly, respectfully offered three incense sticks, then turned and left.

At this moment, the sky had begun to lighten slightly.

The thick fog around him had thinned a little, yet remained dim and murky, making the distant Wangxiang Terrace appear even more eerie.

Legend held that the Wangxiang Terrace was the starting point of reincarnation; here, wandering souls could gaze upon their hometown and loved ones one final time before entering reincarnation, severing all ties to their past lives.

As Li Yan stepped onto the Wangxiang Terrace, he finally couldn't help but turn back.

Behind him, the thick fog vanished rapidly; monks on the mountain struck their bells, and the entire sacred mountain seemed to shift back from the netherworld into the mortal realm.

Finally passed!

As long as one crossed the Wangxiang Terrace, someone from the Huangquan Organization would be waiting to meet them.

Li Yan exhaled in relief—but as he turned around, a chill ran down his spine, and with a clang, he drew Dunchen Blade.

On the Wangxiang Terrace, a figure had appeared, indistinct, dressed in Han-style robes resembling a Daoist robe, wearing a bronze tall crown on his head, his back turned to Li Yan.

In the void, an ancient voice echoed in his ear:

"Only my bound hair remained; in youth, I loved the Dao, abandoned home to follow my master, wandered east, west, south, north, forsaking the five turbidities… beside this sacred mountain, I endured cold without clothing, hunger without eating, thought of home but dared not return, labored but dared not rest…"

It was Yin Changsheng!

Li Yan froze, stunned beyond belief.

Yin Changsheng left behind several poems; this was one of them, detailing his cultivation path—Li Yan had studied the records and memorized it long ago.

But as he listened, he realized something was wrong.

The poem matched the account in the "Biographies of Immortals" at first, but later diverged completely, describing how he became a Living Yin Officer.

This man's role as a Living Yin Officer was far older than his own; back then, he was known as the Yellow-Robed Guest of Mount Tai, possessing the ability to traverse yin and yang.

He could pass through the Ghost Gate of Mount Tai, moving freely between the realms.

Between heaven and mortals, communication was impossible; many who traveled yin would awaken and forget everything they had experienced.

But Yin Changsheng possessed a secret treasure that allowed him to remember all he saw and heard after awakening, using those insights to learn profound arts and evade calamities.

And finally, it revealed the secret of the Great Dharma Realm!

Li Yan's heart trembled; he couldn't help but step forward.

In the Scripture Grove of Guigu Zi, he had first seen the name "Great Luo Dharma Realm" carved on the central stone tablet.

This was the greatest secret of heaven and earth.

His Great Luo Body was likely connected to it!

He never expected to hear it again here, from Yin Changsheng.

But as he strained to hear clearly, Yin Changsheng's spectral form seemed disturbed by some force, blurring and his voice fragmenting: "Dharma Realm… Heavenly Court… Divine Gang … Mortal incense…"

Puff!

Finally, Yin Changsheng's spectral form vanished completely.

At the same moment, an object clattered to the ground.

Li Yan looked down—it was two jade carvings, covered in cloud-and-thunder patterns above, representing heaven, and five-element patterns below, representing earth, with grooves between them.

The jade resembled white fei, carved in ancient, unadorned style, its age unknown, yet emitting a familiar scent.

That scent…

Li Yan furrowed his brow, pulled out the Gou Die from his robe, snapped it twice, and precisely fitted the two jade pieces into the top and bottom slots.

Huh~

A cold wind stirred around him, as if sighing.

Li Yan glanced warily behind him.

The entire sacred mountain had returned to normal; a Daoist emerged from a small hut beside the Son of Heaven Hall, yawning, then glared at him: "Stop! Who are you, little thief?"

Li Yan ignored him, unleashed hidden power beneath his feet, as if shrinking distance into a single step, and vanished from the Wangxiang Terrace in a flash.

The Daoist swallowed hard, rushed into the Son of Heaven Hall to offer incense, muttering prayers for the Great Emperor's protection against evil spirits.

On the other side, Li Yan moved with equal speed.

He vaguely sensed the Gou Die's function had changed—but right now, he must meet the black-robed man first, lest all his efforts last night be dismissed as incomplete.

Arriving outside the Shangguan Hall, a Daoist waited outside.

Seeing Li Yan, his eyes flickered with surprise; he bowed in Daoist greeting: "It seems Brother Li has passed. I was just about to go fetch you."

His voice was clear—not the man from last night.

And he was a secular Daoist, likely an outer member of the Huangquan Organization.

"Lucky."

Li Yan gave a slight bow. "The man from last night…"

"Left the mountain at midnight."

The Daoist shook his head. "A powerful demon infiltrated Fengdu City; everyone aboard the moored boats at the docks has been killed—even Master Bai Kui and his grandson nearly perished."

"They've gone down to handle it. I've been ordered to wait here for you."

"Oh?"

Li Yan was startled. "What demon dares cause trouble here?"

"This humble Daoist doesn't know."

Seeing he wouldn't get answers, Li Yan descended the back mountain and circled around to the riverbank.

Sure enough, the old man and boy's boat was gone.

Fortunately, early risers had begun ascending the mountain to offer incense; Li Yan hired a ferry and returned to the Fengdu docks.

As soon as he stepped ashore, he sniffed the air sharply, his face darkening.

He smelled a familiar scent—

The demon's breath from the cave beneath Shennü Peak…

(End of Chapter)