Chapter 208: Who Still Dares to Beat Song Yan at Tianlong Temple??

The scene before them formed a stark contrast with Zhenlong Temple’s quiet, secluded simplicity.

Straight ahead rose a towering, majestic mountain whose main peak pierced the clouds.

The mountain rolled and undulated like a sleeping giant dragon.

And upon that dragon-like massif, from the foot up to the mid-slope and near the cloud-wreathed summit, densely packed—rows upon rows, so close they almost covered the entire face of the mountain—were countless halls, pavilions, towers, terraces, and corridors built along the slopes.

It was not one or two buildings but an entire complex that seemed fused with the mountain itself, a scale so enormous it took the breath away.

Red walls, golden tiles, upturned eaves, and dougong brackets reflected a solemn, resplendent sheen even under the pale winter morning light.

Between the lofty halls, broad mountain paths paved with bluestone wound sinuously like tendons across a dragon’s back.

Those paths bound the buildings into a single organic whole. Further away, suspension bridges spanned deep ravines and plank walkways clung to cliffs, extending the complex’s reach into ever more perilous and awe-inspiring places.

The first impression of Tianlong Temple was simple: vast.

Zhenlong Temple had its main buildings centered on Sanqing Hall, but it was only a small cluster.

All living and cultivation areas clustered tightly around it.

Tianlong Temple, by contrast, was like a fully functional, magnificent city built on a mountain.

Just the visible main halls, subsidiary halls, scripture towers, pill rooms, guesthouses, and dining halls... probably numbered well over a hundred.

Not to mention the many more structures half-hidden among trees and rocks.

Lu Yuan was not naive. Especially since his transmigration, he had often traveled south and north with the old man.

To be honest, Lu Yuan had been to more places than most Taoists.

But as he’d followed the old man, they mostly went into secluded spots or mountains; he hadn’t visited Fengtian City much, and this level of top-tier spectacle was a first for him.

It really was stunning.

Not only was Zhenlong Temple no match for Tianlong Temple, even Baiyun Temple near Fengtian couldn’t compare.

Beyond scale, what impressed Lu Yuan even more were the pilgrims coming here.

Though it was the freezing late winter and shaded parts of the mountain still held unmelted snow, the plaza before Tianlong Temple’s mountain gate was already teeming with people.

The wide square was filled with all kinds of carriages and sedan chairs.

Pilgrims in cotton robes and fur-lined coats pressed shoulder to shoulder, supporting elders and carrying children.

They climbed the long, seemingly endless bluestone steps slowly and reverently.

Men and women, old and young, rich and poor, most wore solemn or expectant expressions.

The air was heavy with the aroma of incense, mixed with people’s breath and noisy voices.

The scale of worship here verged on the astonishing.

Zhenlong Temple had indeed gained more pilgrims since the incident in Fengtian City—festivals had become livelier.

But compared to this market-like crowd, Zhenlong Temple’s traffic was a trickle before the ocean.

No wonder some xianxia novels always mention "foundation" as an important thing.

He had not fully understood before, but now he did.

Of course, Zhenlong Temple was expanding; Aunt Qiao’er and Aunt Qin had found people to help, and in a few years it would naturally grow stronger.

Whether it could ever catch Tianlong Temple was another matter.

A complex this vast and this many devoted pilgrims couldn’t be built in a day, or even a year or two.

Lu Yuan led Hu Yangyang and Hu Tutu down from the donkey cart, thanked Old Chen, and followed the crowd toward the grand mountain gate.

Up close, the exquisite—and extravagant—details of Tianlong Temple became even clearer.

The gate rose many zhang high, constructed entirely from giant slabs of white stone carved with intricate cloud-and-dragon motifs.

Three gilded characters reading "Tianlong Temple" blazed under the snowy light, the brushwork vigorous as thunder.

Two enormous stone guardian sculptures flanked the gate, eyes glaring, claws pressing stone spheres that seemed to shimmer with a faint spiritual glow.

Passing through the gate, the bluestone path beneath their feet was broad and even, wide enough for several carriages abreast.

The balustrades were carved from choice bluestone; every few steps a stone lantern stood.

Though unlit at midday, their shapes were elegant and refined, far from mundane.

Along the way, the halls—main and side—were built with top-quality beams and pillars, lacquered a glossed vermilion.

Roofs were covered with heavy glazed tiles that shone brilliantly against the snow.

Bronze bells hung from eaves, chiming softly in the wind with clear, distant tones.

Window and door panels were carved with elaborate Taoist talismans, crane-and-cloud motifs, their craftsmanship lifelike and exquisite.

The air no longer smelled of mountain freshness but of fine sandalwood, lacquer, stone, and the concentrated presence of countless pilgrims—a unique, dignified, slightly oppressive atmosphere belonging to a grand complex.

Even the temple boys sweeping the grounds wore crisply laundered blue robes, the fabric plainly finer than the coarse cloth at Zhenlong Temple.

As they walked and observed, Lu Yuan felt a rush of mixed emotions.

No wonder when He Xun Master Uncle had visited Zhenlong Temple last time he’d looked down his nose at everything; now Lu Yuan understood his scorn.

Still, Lu Yuan remained calm.

Zhenlong Temple had its virtues: tranquil, free, fewer rules and less strife.

Neither the old man nor he ever sought pomp.

But the current task—cleaning up the residual poison of the Liu family—was broad in scope.

Only a powerful, deeply rooted, and resource-rich "super temple" like Tianlong Temple could head such an operation, stabilize the situation, and marshal sufficient manpower and resources.

"Let’s go up."

Lu Yuan withdrew his gaze and glanced at Hu Yangyang and Hu Tutu, both stunned by the grandeur but trying to keep outward calm.

He took a deep breath and began climbing the seemingly endless stone stairs toward the summit main halls.

Hu Tutu followed with wide blinking eyes, taking in the unfamiliar splendor and ornate buildings, whispering in awe:

"Daoist Priest, this place is so big and pretty... busier than the market back in town!"

Clearly the two little ones had seen little of the world and usually stayed in mountain nooks.

Hu Yangyang walked quietly beside Lu Yuan, her eyes sweeping the finely dressed pilgrims and the imposing halls.

She glanced down at her faded old cotton jacket and patched bundle, pursed her lips, bowed her head a little more, but kept stride close behind.

Lu Yuan noticed that fleeting unease in Hu Yangyang and said nothing.

He knew that from now on, the new world they would face and adapt to would be far more complicated than this magnificent temple.

The three blended into the bustling stream of worshippers and climbed the seemingly endless bluestone steps, step by step toward the cloud-wreathed summit and towering halls.

They followed the crowd for a good half hour before finally reaching the main-hall area at the mountaintop.

Here the buildings were even more majestic, imbued with solemnity and gravitas.

A vast square paved with mirror-smooth white marble stretched out.

In the center stood a grand main hall more than ten zhang high, with multi-eaved roofs, vermilion walls, and golden tiles, an awe-inspiring sight.

A huge bronze censer before the hall sent incense spiraling into the sky.

Around it clustered several slightly smaller yet exquisitely ornate subsidiary halls, scripture towers, and bell-and-drum towers.

Although pilgrims still filled the square, order prevailed; everyone held their breath and spoke softly.

Only devout prayers and the faint clink of ritual instruments from within the halls could be heard.

Lu Yuan led silent Hu Yangyang and Hu Tutu across the square to a relatively quiet side hall corridor with a couple of Taoists on duty.

This area was where Tianlong Temple’s internal disciples handled affairs and received visitors.

Two young Taoists in their early twenties stood guard, blue robes crisply laundered, faces neat, eyes clear.

Their cultivation wasn’t extremely high, but their presence was steady—clearly well trained.

Seeing Lu Yuan with two simply dressed little girls, they showed no overt reaction.

One stepped forward, bowed, and asked politely:

"Fellow Daoist, are you here to offer incense at Tianlong Temple?"

"Incense offerings should go to the main hall square; this is an internal access lane. Unrelated people may not enter."

Lu Yuan straightened his ill-fitting, half-worn cotton coat, returned the bow with a calm tone and said:

"Two brothers, my respects."

"I am Lu Yuan, a disciple of Zhenlong Temple."

"I am not here to offer incense. I have an urgent matter and wish to see your Brother Song, Brother Song Yan."

"Please do me the favor of passing that along."

Lu Yuan did not say he wanted to meet Celestial Master He Xun.

First, He Xun was the head of Tianlong Temple and a revered figure; these young disciples had low status and might take time to reach He Xun.

It would be faster to ask to see Song Yan, a disciple easier to reach.

But as soon as Lu Yuan finished speaking, the two duty Taoists’ expressions shifted into something... odd.

They exchanged a glance and appraised Lu Yuan from head to toe, especially his clearly ill-fitting, somewhat shabby cotton jacket.

Lu Yuan?

Zhenlong Temple?

If there was a piece of gossip hotter than any other beyond the Great Wall recently, it was the Fengtian City matter—how he and the old man had grabbed the Celestial Master title.

If they only heard the name Lu Yuan, these two might think it a namesake.

But add Zhenlong Temple into the mix and there was no doubt.

The two stared curiously at Lu Yuan, puzzled that this legendary Zhenlong Temple disciple...

would be dressed like this.

Lu Yuan did not want to waste words and was about to produce something to prove his Zhenlong Temple affiliation.

But he had overthought it.

The first duty Taoist’s polite smile faded slightly; his tone turned perfunctory:

"Oh, looking for Brother Song..."

He dragged out the words as if embarrassed.

"That’s... rather inconvenient."

"Brother Song... a few days ago he had a bit of trouble. Now... uh, not very convenient to receive guests."

His attitude left Lu Yuan baffled.

Lu Yuan never claimed that doing remarkable things automatically demanded respect or warm treatment.

Yet this cooling, dismissive manner felt insulting.

Everyone knew the old man and He Xun were sworn senior brothers.

Lu Yuan was the old man’s direct disciple and called He Xun Master Uncle.

That relationship alone should matter.

So why this attitude?

Lu Yuan had no time to dwell. He furrowed his brows and asked:

"Trouble?"

"Was he injured?"

The other Taoist sneered and took over the reply with an openly casual, even gloating tone.

"Injured?"

"Not exactly."

"It’s more like... hehe, he got into a scuffle a few days ago, took a beating—face swollen, front tooth loose."

"These days he’s hiding in his room nursing his wounds, too ashamed to show his face."

He spoke with a teasing grin, as if recounting some trivial amusement, with no respect toward Song Yan.

The two duty Taoists’ words left Lu Yuan stunned.

What was going on?

Song Yan was Celestial Master He Xun’s direct disciple, and Lu Yuan could tell He Xun doted on Song Yan.

Song Yan’s standing in He Xun’s heart was the same as Lu Yuan’s in the old man’s.

Especially if it was a fight...

Lu Yuan had assumed Song Yan might have quarreled with some outsider who didn’t know his identity.

Song Yan did sometimes act obnoxiously and could provoke people; being beaten by a random opponent would be plausible.

But the attitude of these duty disciples suggested they weren’t surprised by Song Yan’s condition and even seemed to find it amusing.

That implied...

Could the ones who beat Song Yan...

be Tianlong Temple disciples themselves?!

Hey!!

Who still dares to beat Song Yan inside Tianlong Temple??

Wasn’t that as outrageous as someone daring to beat Lu Yuan at Zhenlong Temple?!

But now was not the time to investigate.

If there was a problem, seeing Song Yan would clear things up.

Lu Yuan suppressed his doubts and spoke again with firmer resolve:

"Fellow brothers, please notify Brother Song. Say Lu Yuan of Zhenlong Temple requests an audience. Whether he sees him or not is Brother Song’s call."

Lu Yuan insisted on meeting. Despite their mocking tone, the two could not ignore him.

After all, who Lu Yuan was was common knowledge outside the Wall.

Not to mention Lu Yuan’s relationship with He Xun.

And Lu Yuan had even dared to rough up Shen Jizhou, leaving him in no small state; angering Lu Yuan would be unwise.

Finally one of them said:

"Wait here."

Soon, perhaps ten-odd minutes later, a familiar, plump, somewhat impish... um...

and somewhat bruised figure appeared in the distance, bounding up and waving at Lu Yuan:

"Oh my goodness!! Junior Brother!!"

"When did you get here!!"