Chapter 70: Request for Aid at the City God Temple

“Did Zheng Heibei run away?”

“That’s right… Last night, the Taixing Carriage House moved first, striking with thunderous force!”

“They say in just a moment, seventy or eighty of Tie Dao Bang’s toughest fighters were crippled—hands and feet severed, brutal beyond words…”

“Zheng Heibei must’ve been terrified—he vanished that very night, and they say he took all the gang’s money with him. Now plenty of blade-wielders are hunting him, hoping to ambush him and carve off a fat piece…”

“By the way, this kid’s truly despicable—he screwed over his own senior brother before leaving.”

“How did he screw him?”

“He dumped all his injured men at Wang Yao’s clinic, promising full payment, then vanished. Now the clinic’s packed with wounded, and they can’t just throw them out.”

“Hah, that’s truly heartless…”

On the Jianghu, rumors spread fastest of all.

What happened last night had spread throughout Xianyang City before dawn.

Of course, those in the Jianghu knew it well—everyone understood the Zhou family’s end was near.

The people of Xianyang, however, chattered eagerly; some clapped in delight, but more sneered and mocked, and when they cursed loudly, they even spat—truly satisfying.

“Make way! Make way!”

Sha Lifei pushed through the crowded gate.

In the past, given his nature, he would’ve stopped to boast, detailing his crucial role in this affair.

But now, he was frantic, with no time for anything else.

Xianyang’s city gate opened at Mao Hour—he had no skill to scale walls or leap rooftops, nor enough influence to make the guards lower a basket, so he had to wait patiently.

An hour had passed since Li Yan left.

He didn’t want to waste time or cause any mishaps.

Of course, Sha Lifei didn’t notice that Zheng Heibei, the boss of Tie Dao Bang, had also disguised himself as a northern merchant and slipped out of the city…

…………

“I’m here to see Daoist Qingyangzi.”

Outside the Xianyang City God Temple, Sha Lifei respectfully handed over his visiting card.

This temple was ancient, built since the Qin and Han dynasties, destroyed and rebuilt several times through war, now spanning twenty mu with nearly a hundred buildings.

Inside, it enshrined Meng Chong, a great general of Qin.

As a folk deity temple, it relied on public incense, so its gates were always open for commoners to burn offerings, and every May 15th, it held a grand fair.

But Sha Lifei wasn’t here to burn incense—he had to present his card, or he wouldn’t even get to see Daoist Qingyangzi.

“Sir, please wait a moment.”

The acolyte saw the name of Master Wan on the card and didn’t refuse—he said this, then hurried into the rear hall.

Sha Lifei waited anxiously outside, idly glancing at the temple’s couplet: “The deity’s eyes pierce like lightning, discerning even the finest detail; the human heart is a mirror, knowing good from evil—horizontal inscription: Clear-Sighted to the Finest Detail.”

He’d always avoided such places—he’d walked the Jianghu; who hadn’t done a few shameful things?

Now, looking again, Sha Lifei couldn’t help sigh inwardly: City God, may your eyes pierce like lightning, discerning all. If you kill the demon and rescue the Daoist, Old Sha will come often to burn incense for you…

While lost in thought, the acolyte returned, bowed, and gestured: “Sir, please follow me.”

Sha Lifei followed the acolyte through the gate and grand archway, then along the side halls to the rear hall.

Inside the main hall stood a statue of a warrior, clad in golden armor, white-faced with red beard, right hand holding a sword, left hand holding a great seal, eyes wide and fierce.

Before the statue, the offering table rose like terraced fields, densely packed with black pottery jars, all sealed with yellow talismans, oil lamps flickering all around, incense curling thickly.

Beside the table, seated on a cushion, was an old Daoist—white hair, long beard, full forehead, gentle face—the Xianyang temple’s abbot, Qingyangzi.

He wore a nine-ridge cap and a Tongtian robe. The Tai Xuan Zheng Jiao revered black, so his robe was black outside, white inside, embroidered with a green dragon on the left, white tiger on the right, Xuanwu on the back, and Zhuque on the chest, and tied with Dragon and Tiger belts.

This full ceremonial attire was worn only during rituals.

Sha Lifei didn’t understand it, but his demeanor was deeply respectful.

Wang Daoxuan had told him: every city god temple fell under the Ministry of Rites’ Xuan Sacrifice Bureau, which oversaw all Xuan sect cultivators, issued Dao certificates, and held considerable power.

Whoever served as a city god abbot was no ordinary person.

This Qingyangzi, though only at the third-floor level, was highly respected, with many disciples and grand-disciples—he must not be offended.

“Oh, found him?” Qingyangzi stroked his beard after hearing Sha Lifei’s account. “Didn’t expect Xianyang harbored a living Yin Cha—yet it was fate for Chen Fa’s puppet to meet his end. Go now. Return to the temple at Si Hour—someone will accompany you.”

“Huh?”

Sha Lifei panicked, bowing urgently: “Daoist, lives are at stake! My young brother is guarding there, and Master Wang’s soul still lies in the demon’s hands—if…”

“Don’t panic.”

Qingyangzi shook his head slightly. “Chen Fa’s puppet stays in the tomb because soldiers and puppets cannot move by day, and ancient tombs are steeped in yin energy, unaffected. Anyone entering will be sensed.”

“Likewise, I summon She Ling troops to apprehend him only at night. If I rush, I’ll alarm the snake—and rescue becomes impossible.”

“Come at Si Hour—you won’t miss it.”

This old Daoist held high rank and power, yet spoke kindly—Sha Lifei couldn’t argue, so he left the temple with a grim face.

Remembering Li Yan’s instructions, he hurried back, obtained a death notice, then rushed to a nearby coffin shop, ordered a fine coffin, and took men to the outskirts to collect Wu Laosi, temporarily placing him in the charity mortuary.

When all this was done, it was Si Hour (9 to 11 AM).

!.

Sha Lifei rushed back to the temple—the main hall now held two additional Daoists besides Qingyangzi.

One wore black Daoist robes, embroidered with a Taiji on the back, carrying a Seven-Star Treasure Sword, his features clean-cut, yet radiating a sharp aura of violence.

The other wore white robes, bound with a white Bagua headband, skin darkened, thick beard, tall and imposing, yet his eyes carried a trace of sorrow.

Qingyangzi spoke to Sha Lifei: “This is Daoist Luo Mingzi of the Enforcement Hall. This is Master Zhao Facheng of the Jiuyuan Sect. They will accompany you.”

“Ah, greetings to both of you.”

Sha Lifei bowed respectfully, yet his heart sank.

He remembered—Chen Fa’s puppet came from the Jiuyuan Sect. Why send them to arrest him? What if they showed favoritism and ruined everything?

Master Zhao Facheng of Jiuyuan gave a slight nod, then bowed respectfully to Qingyangzi: “Thank you, Elder Qingyangzi.”

“No need.”

Qingyangzi shook his head. “Your Jiuyuan lineage has guarded the First Emperor’s tomb for generations—your service to the realm earns you this favor.”

So there it was—clearly something fishy!

Sha Lifei was furious, but dared not speak.

He could tell Luo Mingzi’s aura was formidable—a hidden-strength expert, and with his arts, he was beyond Sha Lifei’s match.

If he acted rashly and ruined things, it would be disastrous.

After bidding farewell to Qingyangzi, the three left the main hall, entered the temple’s rear gate, where acolytes already waited with three swift horses.

Without delay, they mounted and rode out of Xianyang City…

…………

Boom!

Autumn skies were gloomy; distant thunder rumbled.

In the dense forest, Li Yan stared grimly at the opposite earthen hill.

He’d set out early, riding fast, and reached the place Wu Laosi described—but ran into trouble.

There was indeed an ancient tomb here, far from villages, rising from barren wilderness, distant yet resembling a giant turtle gazing over the Guanzhong Plain.

Though he knew nothing of fengshui, he could tell it was prime land.

But the problem was—there wasn’t just one tomb!

By sight alone, he spotted three, all ancient, their tomb doors already broken open—clearly looted by grave robbers.

And Chen Fa’s puppet had somehow used a technique to mask his aura—Li Yan’s spiritual senses could detect only faint yin energy in a few tombs, unable to locate the man’s whereabouts.

He dared not climb the hill, lest he be discovered.

Thinking of this, Li Yan grew anxious.

In such a situation, his methods were still too few.

Just then, distant hoofbeats approached.

Reinforcements?

Li Yan’s heart leapt—he hurried to the forest’s edge to check.

On the dirt road far off, two riders galloped toward him—one in a sheepskin coat with a dog-fur hat, the other in coarse black cloth.

Though disguised, Li Yan saw clearly.

It was Yuan Qu and Zheng Heibei!

(End of Chapter)