Chapter 40: A Strategic Departure and a Temple’s Naming

“Well, tell me, was that move not satisfactory?”

Feigning ignorance, the old Daoist cast a sidelong glance at the person opposite him, took a swig of wine, and then, with an utter lack of decorum, reached out to place his next piece.

The piece clattered onto the board, its crisp sound echoing far.

“Splendid, simply splendid.”

Daoist Feng was practically choked with rage, yet, constrained by the circumstances, he could not overtly vent his frustration.

He was forced to make several weak moves, ultimately sacrificing a game that had been strategically strong for him. Only after conceding defeat did he slowly sigh and speak.

“Senior, your chess skills are truly exceptional; I am no match for you.”

“Are you not perhaps making sport of me?”

Zì Bùxiàn slowly stretched, straightening his posture, and looked at Daoist Feng with a half-smile.

“How could I dare?”

The black-robed Daoist offered a perfunctory salute, his smile not reaching his eyes, and then rose to bid his guest farewell.

“Won’t you play a few more moves?” The old Daoist feigned confusion, looking at him. “I recall… you’re quite fond of chess, aren’t you?”

He was indeed fond of it, but only when he was the one making the winning moves.

“Senior, do not push your luck too far.”

Daoist Feng no longer cared for formalities; his sole desire was to quickly dispatch this old nuisance and then rush to the town to ascertain what had truly transpired.

His squad, dispatched earlier, was still there; if they acted with the swiftness of thunder, there might yet be a chance to turn the tide.

“You lost the game.”

Zì Bùxiàn, too lazy to bother with him further, knew the surge of vital energy that others couldn’t comprehend; having personally experienced half a heavenly battle, he was intimately familiar with it.

He simply hadn’t expected it to manifest here.

“My skill is inferior; I humbly concede defeat.”

Seeing the white-robed old Daoist lazily rise, intending to depart, Daoist Feng lowered his head and merely offered a respectful bow.

The rain was peculiar as well; while it poured heavily in the town, the Qin Manor was merely overcast.

“Then I shall not linger. You played well, but perhaps refrain from playing again next time.”

Zì Bùxiàn feigned a step, then descended the stairs; as he reached the bottom, his form vanished entirely, leaving behind only a gentle drizzle that dissipated with the passing breeze.

Watching him depart, the composure on Daoist Feng’s face dissolved completely into pure hatred.

“Oh, right, don’t forget the lives of the twenty-three souls in the Qin Manor.”

Zì Bùxiàn chuckled, suddenly appearing not far behind the black-robed Daoist.

“Your methods were quite clean, but will you be able to escape next time? It’s hard to say, isn’t it?”

Just as Daoist Feng, thoroughly enraged and casting aside all decorum, hurled a burst of black smoke at the white-robed old Daoist, the latter abruptly transformed into rain and dispersed.

“You little child lack composure; you’ve only lost one game of chess. If this old Daoist doesn’t leave now, I fear I might be injured by you.”

Zì Bùxiàn’s voice, faint and ethereal, seemed to emanate from nowhere as he delivered one last taunt before vanishing completely.

‘That old scoundrel.’

Daoist Feng forcibly calmed himself, then transformed into a gust of wind and fled beyond the city walls.

At this moment, he could only move as swiftly as possible if he hoped to salvage the situation.

Inciting public outrage was no longer an option; the opponent had deliberately avoided the county town, moving the battlefield outside.

Even if he wished to fight to the death, Zì Bùxiàn, whose hiding place was unknown, would surely be waiting to deliver the final blow.

Having lived a life of meticulous planning, how could he possibly allow himself to meet such an ignominious end, with his body destroyed and his Dao obliterated?

***

Far away, outside the town.

The procession welcoming the deity trod through the raindrops.

The people in the procession, having now understood the implications, wore expressions of excitement, and their gazes toward the statue of General Song held a newfound reverence.

“The words of men can be truly formidable.”

Qíngyǔ sighed with a touch of melancholy, but Little Girl did not grasp the meaning of her words.

“Mama, what are you talking about?”

“It’s alright if you don’t understand now.”

Reaching out to gently ruffle the girl’s head, the young woman narrowed her eyes, looking towards Gubei City.

According to her estimations, pursuers should have caught up by now.

“Mama always speaks so vaguely, it’s silly!”

Little Girl was somewhat annoyed; Qíngyǔ’s habit of only speaking in halves was usually tolerable, but at a time like this, it gnawed at one’s heart, making them quite uncomfortable.

“I’m just not certain, you see.”

Qíngyǔ felt a touch of awkwardness; it wasn’t that she didn’t want to speak, but her cultivation was currently too low to directly use divination to verify her thoughts.

Making a mistake in front of her own daughter would be far too embarrassing.

In her previous life, things had been different; it was only in the final years of her existence that she had barely managed to step onto the path of divination.

Back then, even if she spoke nonsense off the cuff, her disciples would merely take it as a jest.

Now, however, that wouldn’t do.

The young woman mused, casting a surreptitious glance at Little Girl, who was currently pouting beside her.

‘Now, it definitely wouldn’t do.’

“We’ve arrived—”

Just as the two were engaged in their usual bickering, the procession finally reached the entrance of the Deserted Temple.

‘Mr. Yin, my apologies.’

Qíngyǔ silently expressed her apologies within her heart, uncertain of the old fellow’s current whereabouts. Though she felt somewhat bad towards him, she had to prioritize handling the present matters.

‘As for the matter of those few taels of silver, let fate decide.’

Meanwhile, Yang Qi and Song Ming had also come to an agreement.

Lord Song personally stepped forward, tore down the “No Entry for Idlers” notice from the temple gate, and then, with a powerful push of both palms, creakingly opened the dark wooden doors.

Beyond lay a small garden, where the only sizable fixture was an empty vat; the other trees and potted landscapes, however, were exquisitely arranged—after all, the temple had only been sealed for about a week.

“Please, General Song—”

Jí Yào, supporting Yang Qi, solemnly approached the divine statue within the procession. Yang Qi then personally offered a prayer, after which several soldiers carried the statue into the main hall.

He intentionally refrained from speaking Song Daocong’s true name; as a general from the previous dynasty, it was prudent to speak of him as little as possible.

With everything settled, and Song Daocong’s divine statue standing majestically in the main temple, everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief, exchanging smiles.

Seizing the opportunity, Yang Qi cleared his throat and declared loudly, “I, Yang Qi, have caused much ill will among you all in the past, entirely due to my own improper conduct and the misleading influence of demonic rhetoric.

This afternoon, I invite all of you to the Yang Manor for a gathering, where fine wine and delicious food will await you.”

Having spoken, he exchanged a glance with Jí Yào, who immediately understood. Jí Yào saluted, then braved the rain, swiftly departing the Deserted Temple and heading straight for the Yang Manor.

“Lord Yang, there’s no need for this.”

When the vital energy had surged earlier, most of the malevolent aura on these soldiers had already been purged, but a lingering doubt remained in their hearts.

Upon hearing Yang Qi’s words now, even this last trace of doubt vanished.

“We are but rough soldiers; how could we presume to be guests at your esteemed manor?”

“Lord Yang is protected by the gods; how could we let you host us?”

“Ah,” Yang Qi said, stroking his beard with a smile, “you speak amiss. You all contributed your efforts and strength, helping to transport the divine statue. General Song is fair in his rewards and punishments, and in the unseen realm, there is naturally spiritual protection. It is merely my home; what place is it that you cannot visit?”

Upon hearing this, the crowd erupted in another round of laughter, and the atmosphere became entirely harmonious.

Witnessing this scene.

Qíngyǔ pursed her lips; though Yang Qi was indeed a decent man.

Yet, his current demeanor, commanding and spirited, truly didn’t quite align with the dejected, demoted official she had known before.

As her thoughts drifted, the young woman gazed into the distance, where a mass of dark shadows was rapidly approaching the small temple.

“Mama! It looks like someone is coming?”

Little Girl tugged at her sleeve, pointing in that direction.

“Yes, someone is coming.”

Qíngyǔ knew well that for Song Daocong to truly settle here and for this place to become her first step in reorganizing the mortal divine path of this realm, there was still one crucial task to accomplish.

Just as everyone was laughing beneath the eaves, the young woman’s voice, serene as water, drifted through the falling rain.

“Everyone, please calm yourselves; this humble Daoist still has one unfinished matter here.”

The green-clad young woman stood in the center of the small temple courtyard, holding an oil-paper umbrella, yet neither wind nor rain could touch her.

Seeing this, Yang Qi was about to inquire when he heard Jí Yào’s urgent shout from outside.

“Everyone, beware! Villains are surrounding the temple!”

As his words fell, everyone hastily prepared to respond.

Qíngyǔ surveyed the heavy rain all around, and seeing the demonic entity’s contingency arrive at this moment, her heart felt unburdened. Leisurely, she extended her hand and summoned a writing brush.

“This temple has yet to be named.”