Chapter 9: Deterrence

Daoist Order deep in the remote mountains.

Several Daoists dressed in blood-red robes slipped quietly along a narrow forest path.

They carried a round object in their hands, while the slender branches around them trembled slightly.

Their straw sandals squelched through muddy puddles, and the dappled light reflected off their writhing necks.

Yet none of them had heads!

One head opened its mouth and said angrily, “It wasn’t us who lost the Soul Summoning Bell, yet Kuixing is perfectly fine while we lost our heads!”

Another head, jostled and gulping air, quickly spat twice and agreed, “Exactly, exactly!”

One head replied silently, “Being alive at all is already a blessing! Kuixing may have kept his head, but he suffered the God-Lord’s divine punishment!”

Several heads shivered involuntarily but stubbornly muttered, “How is that any better than our hardships now? It’s all because of that high and mighty Daoist Grand Disciple!”

Two years had passed since the Daoist Order’s treasured artifact was lost and fell into the hands of a Demon King!

For a righteous sect dedicated to exorcism and protection, this was nothing short of a disgrace!

The entire Daoist Order was full of complaints, but unfortunately, the Elder Tianshi remained unmoved, always repeating, “Observe quietly, the God-Lord has his own will.”

Lately, rumors spread that the Elder Tianshi was senile and should step down to make way for fresh leadership, someone more appealing to the God-Lord.

But these disciples disagreed.

Having personally witnessed the Demon King’s formidable power and unpredictable methods, they believed the Elder Tianshi, an experienced old hand, fully understood the consequences of rash action.

If they were to openly confront the Demon King and fail, not only would the loss of the Soul Summoning Bell become public knowledge, but the Daoist Order’s reputation would be reduced to a laughingstock.

“Did you hear? That person is about to open a school, inviting all scholars from across the land. Rumor says ‘education without discrimination’—humans, spirits, and demons all welcome as disciples!” one head said leisurely, with a hint of admiration.

“Education without discrimination?” another muttered, “Isn’t that the Confucianists’ claim?”

“Heh heh heh, exactly,” said a head who seemed eager for chaos, “The lofty Confucianists must be cursing this, calling it a disgrace to their culture! I wonder if they dare disturb that person’s plans.”

One scoffed, “Confucianists are a bunch of dogshit—stinkbugs made stinkier. They’re just pompous liars, merchants smelling of copper coins, weaklings who need imperial blessings even to slay demons.”

“They only dare curse in words, never truly acting. Maybe someday they’ll dig up genealogies and claim that person is an incarnation of one of their ancestors.”

“Such insight, so sharp and true! Senior Brother, I really like that about you!” another laughed, bumping a fellow disciple playfully.

They hurried back to the sect’s base, a vast area spanning about a dozen mountain peaks.

Exiled for their mission’s failure, they were unaware of the lively activity outside the sect’s gates.

Since hearing that the Demon King was recruiting disciples broadly, the Elder Tianshi realized an opportunity had arrived.

On the surface, two years ago, the Soul Summoning Bell was lost, and the God-Lord’s divine task went unfulfilled.

The God-Lord’s wrath was fierce. Were it not for the Order’s indispensable role in this world, it might have ceased to exist by now.

The Elder Tianshi had taken two years of recuperation to barely recover.

He sighed deeply.

Now that immortals and gods had long since departed, this Demon King had appeared.

The Elder Tianshi couldn’t grasp the exact cause and refused to confront it head-on.

In truth, few within the Order knew that the God-Lord had rarely sent true decrees in recent decades, and most of the so-called divine tasks were the Elder Tianshi’s own conjectures.

The Muddy Figurine had once been a vessel for an ancient great god, capable of communicating between heaven and earth.

Among the sixty-four provinces of the Central Continent and the Six Sects and Five Clans, only a few possessed such divine artifacts; the rest were scattered throughout the Southeast Four States.

At the time, rumors spread that the Muddy Figurine “was located in the southeast,” and many cultivators in the Central Continent believed the ancient sacred artifact had reappeared, sparking a frenzied pursuit.

Meanwhile, with the God-Lord absent for so long, people grew anxious, prompting the Elder Tianshi to fabricate divine tasks as if the God-Lord himself had sent them.

For nearly a century, most supposed divine orders followed this pattern—rumors of artifacts spread, and the Elder Tianshi seized the opportunity to assign tasks.

But he never expected that this time, it would be like a counterfeit meeting a real fighter.

The God-Lord had rarely shown anger, and though it gave the Elder Tianshi some relief, when he set up offerings and tried to communicate with the God-Lord, he still failed. Instead…

The Elder Tianshi felt the eyes beneath his robe flutter open and roll about.

He pressed down expressionlessly, and a patch of black blood oozed out.

Kuixing anxiously asked, “Master, why do you go alone this time?”

The Elder Tianshi chuckled, “Little Kuixing, you underestimate this old Daoist. Don’t worry, don’t worry. Return now.”

Kuixing could only remain silent, watching alongside the other disciples as the Elder Tianshi departed.

He rode a donkey backward, humming a Daoist tune, swaying his head as he disappeared into the forest shadows.

A kingfisher’s cry rang out twice or thrice, as if reluctant to see him leave.

***

【21 years old: You’re so busy you wish you could split yourself into four parts—one to teach large lectures, one for intensive small classes, one to screen disciples’ aptitude and advise those already talented to quit, and one to rest and spend time with family and friends.

Wanggui Forest lies in the southeastern part of the Central Continent, surrounded by six provincial governors’ domains, all lacking a scholarly atmosphere and sparse population.

Though you have taught for many years, no disciple has ever aimed for the imperial examinations or ranked first.

You don’t force those who prefer a life among nature but plan to post notices inviting some to take the exams, hoping to gain fame and thus face fewer obstacles in founding your Scripture House.

Unexpectedly, on the day the notice went up, people of all ages crowded the forest, and even some animals came attracted by the reputation.

The weather was uncooperative—a cold day in midsummer, as chilly as an ice cellar.

After so many years of effort, the cold didn’t bother you, and having so many disciples kindled a fire in your heart.

You accepted them all and laid the foundation for the Scripture House, expanding your humble private stall.

Next came recruiting construction crews to build the Scripture House, contacting former disciples to see if they wished to teach, and mediating disputes between human and animal disciples.

You finalized course content and scheduled daily and monthly lessons.

Of course, the crucial exams and physical education classes could not be neglected.

As for teaching credentials, you once sent disciples to apply for them.

They returned the same day, reporting that the six provincial governors, impressed by your fame, handed over certificates and donated thirty million taels of Silver Ingots, wishing the Scripture House well.

You found it strange yet heartening.

Not having to deal with administrative hassle was a relief, but weren’t high officials supposed to be fierce?

Why were they so friendly, almost like paying protection money?

Could it be you really had become a renowned top teacher and they feared losing you?

You couldn’t figure it out and cheerfully gave up trying.

If you can’t think it through, don’t think about it—that’s your life philosophy.

After overcoming the initial rush, you gradually delegated authority and even established a student council to mediate student conflicts, finally finding time to go fishing with Xiao Hong.

You never understood why a sleek, shiny fox would like fishing.

There’s a Crescent Lake in the forest where a unique lake monster lives, which you often thought was a relative of the Loch Ness Monster from the old world.

Xiao Hong was friends with the lake monster, who would snag fish on Xiao Hong’s hook from beneath the water.

Having not seen the monster for a long time, you found yourself missing him.

Walking along, Xiao Hong suddenly bristled and cautiously gathered at your feet.

You turned toward the sound.

In the blurry green world, an old man in a grayish-white Daoist robe leaned sideways against a tree, his breathing seemingly merged with the forest’s.

Xiao Hong only noticed him upon close approach.

The old Daoist’s face was aged, his sagging skin wrinkled like tree roots.

He muttered, “Hmm? Fell asleep? Haha, truly senile.”

He yawned lazily, unsteadily pushed off from the tree, and said, “Old Daoist walks slow by mountain and water!”

You frowned.

This old man came from nowhere, still several miles from the Scripture House.

If only to give directions, who knew what might happen on the way?

The old man mumbled, “Ascendancy, what do you think of immortals? What do you think of gods?”

You sighed, finally free for a moment, and sending this man to the Scripture House might leave little time for anything else.

The old man flung open his robe, revealing a gaunt chest, and whispered urgently, “Ascendancy? Ascendancy?”

Strange clattering came from his person.

You narrowed your eyes.

His breath paused, his body stiffened.

The robe looked somewhat familiar, as if you had seen it somewhere.

Hmm… can’t recall, never mind.

Under white bushy brows, the old man’s sharp eyes gleamed with intensity.

“Your view on immortals and gods? Why do you establish a Scripture House?”

You decided to have Tayue come along later to escort the man to rest, while you took Xiao Hong fishing.

As you pondered, the old Daoist repeated the question.

You answered nonchalantly, “Immortals, gods—things above the nine heavens. Do they really descend to the mortal world? This is the age of man.”

You nudged Xiao Hong to find Tayue.

Xiao Hong’s figure vanished, but the old Daoist stood frozen, seemingly truly senile.

Something fell from his hands into the forest floor as he muttered, “Gods or immortals, above the nine heavens, do not descend to the mortal realm.”

“Age of man? Age of man! Gods? Gone?”

You wondered why elderly men, so white-haired, still traversed this vast forest.

The forest was full of birds and beasts; cliffs and dangers were common.

You often saw bones and corpses when young, but as you grew and built roads and bridges and restrained wild beasts, these ended.

You shook your head.

Let him come if he wishes.

Recently, many disciples had asked why you founded the Scripture House.

You had countless answers, but today you chose the mischievous one.

“As for why I founded the Scripture House,”

you tilted your head and smiled, “just for the fun of it!”

】

Wu You nodded, somewhat moved, “That makes how many Daoists now? A few days ago there was even a monk. Why does everyone love to ask this question?”

“I haven’t even mentioned superstition yet—don’t make me use the Dog-beating Staff Technique! So many disciples’ points invested isn’t something to joke about.”