Chapter 112: Inviting the God and Installing the Shrine

Miao Zhen: “How much is Xiao Shu asking us to borrow?”

Pan Yun: “I think you want to borrow a hundred taels from me.”

Miao Zhen couldn’t help smiling and nodded. “Then we’ll borrow a hundred taels.”

Miao He: “I can also hold two hundred taels for Xiao Shu.”

Pan Yun: “What do you mean ‘hold’? This is a loan.”

“Yes, yes, yes—it’s a loan.”

Tao Yanbai ran out with a firestick, eager to join. “Xiao Shu, I want to borrow a hundred taels too.”

“Of course, of course.”

No adults needed to get involved—they four kids handled it all themselves.

Pan Yun handed one hundred-tael silver note to each of Miao He and Miao Zhen, then told Tao Yanbai: “Your hundred taels are in silver ingots—I’ll bring them to you in my room.”

Miao Zhen’s eyes lit up; she immediately returned the note. “Xiao Shu, I don’t want silver notes—I want silver ingots too.”

Miao He instantly followed suit, returning his note. “Me too—I want silver ingots!”

Pan Yun: …

Pan Yun took back both notes, glanced at Tao Yanbai, and was about to hand him one—when he hurriedly added, “I—I—I still want silver ingots.”

Pan Yun retracted the notes. “Fine. Borrowers are all masters. You decide.”

The three grinned broadly.

Tao Ji called from the kitchen: “Yanbai, are you done? Come back and tend the fire!”

“Yes!” Tao Yanbai turned and rushed back inside.

The meal still needed time to cook, so Pan Yun led Miao Zhen and Miao He back to count the silver ingots.

Pan Yun never kept her money outside—she stored it all in her Spirit Realm. She returned to her room, fetched a cloth sack, drew out the silver ingots from her Spirit Realm, then carried them out to Miao He and Miao Zhen.

The three squatted on the courtyard’s blue stone slabs, untying the sack. White, plump silver ingots glowed with a mesmerizing sheen under the setting sun.

Even Pan Yun, owner of this wealth, couldn’t help sighing. “It’s true—same amount. Seeing silver notes stirs a faint emotion, but seeing these ingots? My heart races.”

Miao He grabbed an ingot, stroking it repeatedly. “It’s not mine, but even touching it makes me excited.”

Pan Yun waved her hand generously. “Choose. Pick out a hundred taels for yourselves—the rest stays for Yanbai.”

Though all ingots looked identical, Miao He and Miao Zhen carefully selected them, laying them on the ground, comparing each one, until they chose what they deemed the finest ten.

They spread out their robes, placed the chosen ingots atop, and bundled them up to carry back—only to find the weight pulled the fabric down, choking their necks.

Yet they stubbornly held on, necks tilted upward, dragging the robes back inside. Pan Yun burst into laughter.

With the money lent out, Pan Yun ate her meal with perfect ease. No further mishaps occurred. The next day, while brushing her teeth, no blood appeared.

She even wandered deliberately through the mountains, giving Heaven ample opportunity—yet nothing happened.

For two straight days, all was peaceful. She still gained fifteen merit points twice daily. Life returned to calm.

Pan Yun confirmed: “Money I lend out, if not returned, isn’t counted as mine under the rules.”

Pan Yun clicked her tongue. “So even Heaven knows: don’t lend money lightly. Once lent, it may truly cease to be yours. No wonder when I lent money to Senior Disciple, if it wasn’t returned within two days, the rules automatically counted it as my asset.”

Pan Xiaohei ignored her musings. “Is the final experiment to give the money away?”

Pan Yun looked at it as if it were an idiot. “If lending solves the problem, why bother with the final step? The final experiment only applies if lending harms me or them.”

“Now I just wait for my father’s letter—to see if receiving the money affects him.” Pan Yun’s gaze grew deep. “I already have a rough idea of what happens if I give money away.”

Pan Xiaohei: “What result?”

Pan Yun smiled faintly at it. “When I give you dried fish, are you happy?”

Pan Xiaohei stayed silent. Seeing her stare, it gave a slight nod.

Pan Yun: “Look how delighted Miao He and Miao Zhen were seeing the ingots. If I gave them the money, wouldn’t they thank me? Isn’t that the same as earning merit?”

Pan Yun felt refreshed. “Experiment over. We can sleep peacefully and cultivate without worry.”

Pan Xiaohei: “That’s it?”

“Oh, right—I still need to make a toothbrush. I’m sick of using willow twigs.”

Pan Yun returned and soaked all the pig bristles she’d collected last time. It wouldn’t be done in a day, but she wasn’t in a hurry.

The next day was the Ceremony of Inviting the God and Installing the Shrine. For these two days, they’d eaten only vegetarian food—the meat and ribs still chilled in the well.

Before dawn, the Daoist temple’s residents rose, bathed, changed clothes, washed their faces, then descended the mountain wearing their finest Daoist robes—though Pan Yun and the others wore plain robes, while Wang Feiyin and the others donned colorful ritual garments. At the mountain’s base, they opened the Mountain God Shrine and began preparing for the Ceremony of Inviting the God and Installing the Shrine.

Villagers rushed over to witness the ceremony.

The statue, wrapped in red cloth, was carried to the shrine’s front. The old, small Mountain God Shrine still stood. Wang Feiyin had ordered it preserved, cleared the area around it, and connected it to the new shrine—making it a kind of forecourt.

Wang Feiyin took out his painted talismans, arranged the talisman array. Just as the first slanting rays of dawn pierced the mountain peak, he drew his peachwood sword, leapt onto the open ground before the shrine, and began invoking the god.

The open space before the shrine spanned over a hundred square paces, all compacted by stone rollers. Now, villagers crowded its perimeter. As Wang Feiyin leapt into the center, Xuan Miao’s bell chimed—clear and crisp.

Tao Ji blew his flute; Wang Cong struck the wooden fish—*ding-dong*—its steady rhythm piercing through the flute’s melody, echoing through the mountains…

Pan Yun merely stood with Miao Zhen and the others, watching.

Wang Feiyin danced and chanted to the music. The previously still spiritual energy stirred, became active, swirling in rhythm with his sword movements, slowly forming a magnetic field.

As Pan Yun’s cultivation method activated, she saw thousands of threads enveloping the area. As Wang Feiyin danced and chanted, the field grew larger and larger—until that familiar sensation returned.

She saw Pan Gong’s form slowly coalesce in midair.

!. Du

Wang Feiyin spun sharply, his gaze locking onto Pan Yun. Cold and stern: “Pan Yun, why aren’t you dotting the eyes yet?”

Pan Yun snapped back, stepped forward to the statue, and Miao Zhen hurriedly followed with the tray.

She dipped her brush in ink, paused, then solemnly painted the pupils into the statue’s eyes.

The moment the eyes were complete, Wang Feiyin thrust his sword straight upward and roared: “Invite the God to take his seat!”

The faintest smile touched Pan Gong’s invisible lips. A thread of divine consciousness detached, instantly sinking into the statue.

Pan Yun and Miao Zhen, closest to the statue, both saw a flash of light in its eyes. The once merely colorful, newly made porcelain statue now radiated divine aura.

The watching villagers burst into cheers, clapping loudly. Someone cried excitedly: “The statue just came alive!”

“Wang Daozhang’s cultivation has deepened further.”

With the invocation successful, everyone lifted the statue onto the shrine’s altar. As the shrine keeper, Pan Yun lit incense and led the kneeling bow.

Pan Yun lowered her gaze, bowed, then raised her eyes to the statue, silently thinking: [Master, from now on, you may sit here and receive the incense offerings of this land.]

Pan Yun inserted the incense. Wang Feiyin and the others followed. The villagers immediately placed their offerings—fruits, eggs, chickens, ducks, fish—on the altar, lit incense, and began bowing.

In an instant, smoke curled thickly inside and outside the shrine, like a celestial realm.

Pan Yun couldn’t help walking to the doorway, turning back to gaze at the altar piled high with offerings and bristling with incense. She sighed: “All this… is incense.”

Not only villagers from Fen Shui Village came to offer incense—villagers from nearby hamlets, hearing that Mount Sanqing’s Mountain God Shrine was holding its Ceremony of Inviting the God and Installing the Shrine, rushed over too.

The scene was wildly crowded. Everywhere, heads swarmed. The paths were so packed, no one could walk.

Pan Yun stepped out, stunned. She turned to Wang Feiyin. “Did our temple issue any announcements?”

“No. Didn’t you say you hated the hassle and refused to host a banquet? So we didn’t invite village elders or fellow Daoists. These villagers came on their own, just by word of mouth.”

The Ceremony of Inviting the God and Installing the Shrine traditionally served two purposes: to announce the new shrine to neighbors, and to create festivity—so nearby village elders and neighboring Daoist temples were always invited.

But inviting them meant hosting meals. Pan Yun disliked such affairs—they drained energy.

Common folk thought simply: once her master fulfilled a few wishes and gained fame, worshippers would naturally come in droves. Only then would their faith be pure.

All these excuses? In truth, Pan Yun simply hated trouble.

She hadn’t expected so many to come without any announcement.

With so many people, the villagers moved quickly: place offerings, light incense, make wishes, bow, wait a dozen breaths, then pick up their baskets, retrieve their offerings, exit—and let the next person in.

The next person did the same.

Some impatient ones simply placed offerings on the open ground outside, lit incense, and bowed toward the statue from afar.

Wang Feiyin, Tao Ji, and Wang Cong brought out three large vats filled with river sand, placed them in a row on the ground, directly facing the shrine’s statue.

Wang Feiyin called out: “You may also insert incense here—in these vats. Even the small shrine nearby—anywhere, as long as your heart is sincere, the Mountain God will receive it.”

Pan Yun snapped back to action, rolled up her sleeves, and rushed to help maintain order. “Same rule: as long as you face the Mountain God’s direction and think of him, wherever you bow, it’s the same.”

She ran to the nearby side room, fetched spare prayer mats, and laid them outside the shrine.

Villagers crowding in immediately knelt on them, made wishes, then banged their heads hard on the ground—only then did they place offerings and burn incense. While burning incense, they made another wish, bowed again. Following the rule that more reverence never offends the gods, they bowed not just toward the statue, but also to the left, then to the right…

Villagers came and went, came and went. As shrine keeper, Pan Yun not only maintained order but also listened to the worshippers’ wishes.

Tail number 6

(End of Chapter)