Chapter 272: My Lie

Ten years later.

Outside Jingyun County, on a desolate mountain path, a temple had silently risen at an unknown time.

Inside, a Faceless Statue was enshrined, made of clay and Wood Carving, with no facial features.

At first, the temple was quiet and nameless, even unknown to anyone.

It wasn't until a convoy of night‑time peddlers, fleeing beasts and bandits and panicking, inadvertently entered the place that it came into the world's view.

Later, occasionally bold or desperate people came to offer incense and pray, and among them a few saw their wishes fulfilled.

The news spread like wildfire, one to ten, ten to a hundred.

After ten years of passing time, the once‑nameless little temple had become bustling with incense, worshippers gathered like clouds, and everyone claimed its efficacy was extraordinary.

And today.

A cry full of disbelief suddenly rang out from within the temple, instantly drawing every pilgrim's attention:

"Deity— the deity has a form!!"

The words struck like thunder on a plain! Those waiting outside the temple, those mid‑ritual, and those chatting, first froze, then surged toward the temple doors like a tide!

"Let me go! Quickly let me go and see!"

"Nonsense! Who here doesn't want to see?! Get out of the way!"

"I… I'll pay! Isn't paying enough? Let me in first!"

"To hell with you! This little money is for beggars? I'll give you double! Get away!"

"Alright, sir! Please, please! I won't disturb you!"

"....... Give it back to me, you cheat?!"

The courtyard erupted in clamor, chaos, everyone eager to be the first to glimpse the deity's face.

"All—be—still—!"

A commanding shout rang out abruptly, drowning out all noise.

Everyone fell silent instantly, eyes darting toward the speaker—who was the temple's caretaker, also one of the peddlers who first discovered the temple years ago, having guarded it for nearly a decade, his prestige well‑known.

The caretaker stepped forward, surveyed the hushed crowd, cleared his throat lightly, and said in a deep voice:

"Queue! Come in order!"

"Do not crowd, cease the noise, lest you offend the spirits!"

He pointed his hand toward the start of the line:

"Start here!"

When his words fell, the crowd, though itching to rush, obeyed and quickly formed a long line, one after another, moving into the hall with excitement and reverence.

Soon, a voice of astonishment rose from within the hall:

"Strange… the more I look, the more it feels… this face seems…"

The impatient onlooker beside him urged immediately: "Like who? Speak quickly!"

The pilgrim hesitated, then said uncertainly: "Like… like Dong Yong of Dongjia Village!"

"Dong Yong?!" Several nearby people inhaled a gasp of cold air.

"Huh? Now that you say it… it really does look alike!"

"Let me! I live next door to his house! I know him for real!" A man pushed forward, examined closely for a moment, then slapped his thigh hard and declared firmly:

"No doubt! It's him, Dong Yong!"

"No wonder… no wonder!" someone realized:

"His son, Dong He, that kid, used to say his mother was a celestial maiden from the heavens, called the Seventh Fairy Maiden, and then vanished overnight… So Dong Yong—no, Dong Immortal—himself was also a deity descended to the mortal world!!"

With that claim, the crowd roared again!

Some found it unbelievable, others were skeptical, debates flared, and order seemed about to slip away.

The caretaker spoke again in a resonant voice, drowning the commotion:

"What's the point of arguing here? Go to Dongjia Village, see with your own eyes, and the truth will be clear!"

His gaze swept the crowd: "If Dong Yong's appearance truly matches this statue exactly, that would be ironclad proof!"

"It can't be denied, it's truly a deity descended, coming to relieve suffering and experience mortal hardships!"

The crowd, hearing this, seemed to awaken from a dream!

"Right, right, right! The caretaker is correct! To Dongjia Village!"

"Where is Dongjia Village? Who knows the road?!"

"I know! I'll lead! Everyone follow me!"

The crowd instantly surged with excitement, pouring out of the temple gates in a massive wave toward Dongjia Village.

The news spread like wildfire; along the way more people joined, the procession swelled rapidly, its momentum astonishing.

No one noticed that the caretaker who suggested the trip to Dongjia Village did not follow himself.

"A lie, if no one doubts it, is not a lie," he stood quietly on the stone steps before the temple doors, gazing at the crowd receding, noisy and boiling, a faint, deep smile curling at his lips, as if everything were under his control.

He whispered a sentence:

"Liu Zhuang…"

"Issue the decree."

Dongjia Village.

Dong He, already a half‑grown youth, lay agile on a thick branch of an old locust tree, appearing leisurely, yet his sharp eyes constantly scanned around, a subtle, barely perceptible anticipation hidden deep within.

Suddenly, at the edge of his sight, dust rose as a massive, crowd‑packed procession surged like a breached dam toward the village entrance!

Dong He's eyes flashed, and with a swift roll he slid down the tree like a monkey; his foot touched the ground and he darted toward his home like an arrow released.

"Bang!" He shoved the house door open, breathing lightly, and shouted excitedly toward the interior:

Dad! They're coming! So many people! They're coming toward our village!

Inside the house, Dong Yong was already dressed neatly, wearing clean cloth robes, sitting upright on the chair in the main hall, closing his eyes to nurture his spirit.

Hearing his son's shout, he slowly opened his eyes; in those eyes that had been tempered by ten years of wind and frost and longing, there was not a trace of panic, only a calm as deep as a pond.

He replied in a low voice: "I know."

Having said that, he rose to his feet and walked steadily toward the doorway. Sunlight fell upon him, outlining his resolute silhouette.

Just as he stepped out of the front door and stood in that familiar little courtyard, he happened to meet the gaze of the first man, panting and running desperately to see what was happening.

That man suddenly halted his steps; the moment his gaze met Dong Yong's face, he froze as if struck by lightning.

His eyes widened, his face filled with utter shock and awe; his lips trembled a few times, then he fell to his knees with a thud, bowing his head to the ground, and cried out in a trembling voice:

"God… Immortal! It truly is an immortal descending to the mortal world!!"

His kneeling and shout caused the crowd behind him to erupt in commotion instantly, countless gazes locking onto Dong Yong's face.

Upon seeing that his visage was exactly like the temple's deity, gasps and intakes of breath rose and fell, and many people instinctively prepared to kneel and worship.

Just at this moment, when hearts were stirred and a collective kneeling was about to begin—

"Wait!"

A clear, sharp shout rang out from behind him, overriding the din of the scene.

The crowd followed the sound and saw a Scholar in a Confucian robe stepping out from the crowd.

He had a dignified countenance, bright eyes, and carried the obstinacy and scrutiny typical of a scholar.

He first clasped his hands toward Dong Yong in a greeting, then looked over the crowd and spoke loudly, his voice carrying clearly across the whole scene:

"Fellow villagers, please hold off on bowing and worship!"

He raised his hand to point at Dong Yong, his tone neither humble nor arrogant:

"To judge him as the temple's deity merely because of his resemblance, I, as a student, deem this greatly improper and rash!"

His gaze swept over those worshippers showing confusion and discontent, and he continued:

"The world is vast; nothing is strange."

"If we simply deify anyone who looks alike, then should someone with intent find a look‑alike, or worse, certain ill‑intentioned individuals deliberately carve the temple's idol in their own image to deceive the villagers and swindle them, would we not…?"

He paused, then gave Dong Yong a meaningful look,

"Is it not playing right into the schemers' hands, becoming accomplices to tyranny?"

The Scholar's words were like cold water flung into hot oil, exploding instantly among the crowd.

The fervent atmosphere just moments before now gained a hint of hesitation and suspicion.

Many who had already bent their knees now hesitated and straightened up.

What this Scholar said makes sense!

Just as they were about to question him, Dong Yong's seemingly ordinary, starch‑whitened coarse‑cloth garment suddenly burst forth with a warm, lustrous, and vast Pure Radiance!