“I can’t be that unlucky, can I? I so rarely visit relatives.”
Xue Cuo, carrying a small bundle on his back, muttered, “Surely it can’t go this badly?”
Still unwilling to give up, he quietly slipped into a secluded spot, planted a stick of incense, chanted the goddess’s name, took out two bamboo divination blocks, and reverently tossed them onto the ground.
Hiss—
First, the incense and candle went out without any wind, snapping clean in two.
Then the bamboo blocks refused to fall either left or right, up or down.
No result.
Ordinarily, this meant either the place fell under a new god’s jurisdiction, or that the local Divine Dao was too weak to respond.
But Qianyun Mountain’s incense offerings were so abundant…it was impossible that the Divine Dao had withered.
That left only one explanation: an old god must have been resurrected here. And not just any old god. At least one nearly on Her Ladyship’s level, to interfere with his divination.
Xue Cuo’s expression changed. He shuddered, pinched out the herb incense, packed away the bamboo blocks, and thought to himself: “A wise man knows when to retreat. The rivers and mountains will meet again. I’ll come back when I’ve reached the Illusory God Realm… no, no. Better wait till I’ve ascended to immortality.”
Duoh——
A light reprimand rang out in his head.
In his mind, the little True Spirit screamed as a lotus leaf smacked it square on the backside. Xue Cuo yelped, clutching his rear and giving it a rueful rub.
He opened his eyes, realising he probably couldn’t wait until “immortality” to come back. So he simply flopped onto the ground and began to feign idleness.
[Not going, not going! I’m not going.]
[If I go, I’m definitely a goner!]
In the Divine Realm, the goddess statue that had been silent for ten thousand years lowered its eyes slightly to gaze at the heir of its own Dharma lineage, lying on the ground below the void, playing the fool.
If a statue’s fist could clench, this one would be clenched tight.
The corner of its mouth twitched; lotus leaves rippled across the golden pond. From amidst them, a small golden dragon flew forth, piercing through layers of mist and plunging straight down.
Xue Cuo, arms folded and one eye half open, suddenly sensed a familiar trace of incense and leapt to his feet.
“Eldest Shixiong!”
A childlike, clear voice rang out as a tiny, golden, illusory dragon. Its tail wagging, it circled Xue Cuo affectionately.
Though no bigger than a snake, its cultivation was a realm higher than his. Having forged a golden body in the mortal realm, it was quite the little fighter.
“Thank you, Your Ladyship!”
Xue Cuo adjusted his bamboo hat, while the little golden dragon, imitating him, bowed respectfully towards the void before darting off in a cheerful wavy line.
“Eldest Shixiong, where are we going now?”
“Is the South Sea that way?”
“Shixiong, I’ll carry your luggage!”
The little dragon dove headfirst into Xue Cuo’s bundle, rummaging around. Its tail flicked out a few snacks and water gourds, then it gave a startled squeak. Whatever it had seen made its tail blur with excitement.
Moments later, it poked its small head out, crumbs of pastry clinging to its mouth, eyes sparkling. “Eldest Shixiong, where are we going?”
Xue Cuo had just finished drawing a set of talismans. He pinched the dragon’s jaws open and stuffed four or five of them in, concealing its divine aura. “Hide for now. Shixiong will show you the mortal world!”
The little dragon’s cheeks puffed up; it swallowed the talismans in one gulp and nodded obediently.
Taking advantage of the fact that no one could see the dragon, Xue Cuo swaggered back towards the city, man and dragon alike.
Just then, the streets grew crowded. A procession of townsfolk dressed like shrimp soldiers and crab generals were marching past, carrying offerings of livestock and leading boys and girls for sacrifice, accompanied by festive drums and suona horns.
Pedestrians hastily stepped aside.
Xue Cuo slipped into the crowd, curious. With so much bustle… was someone getting married?
Intrigued, he followed the procession.
Behind the musicians came a tall, gorgeously decorated flower carriage.
At its centre stood a great crimson coral, upon which rested a deity’s statue wrapped in red cloth, its features hidden.
Xue Cuo quietly cast a Daoist spell to observe. The image revealed a fish-headed, human-bodied deity, holding a steel trident and girdled with a green sash. The air around it seethed with Xianghuo power. In rank, it was far higher than the civil-and-martial deity of Fangzhou.
And as for Xue Cuo, the gap was like heaven and earth.
He hurriedly stuck a few more concealing talismans on himself and ducked behind a burly butcher.
The crowd eventually reached a seaside temple, already thronged with people and dazzling with lanterns and banners.
The statue was carried inside, and offerings poured in like a river. The accumulated incense condensed into a cloud of violet smoke that lingered above the temple roof.
Such pure faith.
Xue Cuo was momentarily awed. He whispered, “Ao Mu, you’ve been worshipped by the mountain folk for five centuries. Have you ever seen anything like this?”
Have I chosen the wrong path?
Then a thought struck him like a flash of enlightenment: could it be that when Her Ladyship spoke of the [Bridge of Rebirth], she meant sending him here on official duty… to study the local faith?
Only… this belief was almost too pure.
The little golden dragon poked his head out and shook it like a rattle. “Never.”
In five hundred years of receiving incense, he hadn’t gathered even a third as much. Such a flourishing faith must have condensed the willpower of tens of thousands of worshippers. It was far beyond what any ordinary Xianghuo Divine Dao god could achieve.
“Eldest Shixiong,” the little dragon whispered, “this city’s full of Xianghuo Divine Dao gods.”
The golden dragon was born gifted. He could have attained immortality in the flesh, yet the dragon clan’s fortune had waned, and he fell prey to treachery. He should have perished, but fate took a turn, and he began cultivating along the Xianghuo Divine Dao path instead. His draconic eyes could now perceive many details invisible to mortal sight.
But of course, this city held far more than a handful of petty deities. If the little golden dragon could see it, how could Xue Cuo not?
He raised his head to glance at a corner of the sky, then smiled faintly. “Come on, let’s go and learn what makes other gods so impressive.”
The little golden dragon hesitated. “But, Eldest Shixiong… if you go in to offer incense, I’m afraid the deity in this temple will immediately turn on you.”
Turning on him would be the mildest reaction.
Leaping straight out of the shrine to kill him was not out of the question.
“So,” said Xue Cuo, perfectly serious, “you’ll offer the incense in my place.”
The little golden dragon pointed at himself with a claw. “M–me?”
“Mu-ah, are you going to behave?”
The tiny auspicious cloud at the tip of his tail bobbed up and down as he nodded. “I’ll behave.”
Xue Cuo gave a thumbs-up. “Good lad. Truly worthy of the Little Golden Dragon God. Once this is done, I’ll have the Her Ladyship reward you by letting you soak a few extra hours in the Golden Pool!”
The little dragon puffed up with delight, nodding eagerly.
Man and dragon squeezed their way into the crowd, following the flow of people towards the temple to offer incense. Xue Cuo struck up conversation with a young woman beside him. “Miss, what are you praying for?”
She glanced at him thoughtfully. “You’re from out of town, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. I’m visiting relatives, happened to see the worshippers, but I’m not familiar with the customs. I was hoping to ask your advice, jiejie.”
She smiled. “Ah, so that’s how it is. This temple is called the Shiliu Temple, dedicated to the Great God Shiliu. He governs childbirth. He’s very efficacious, and his prices are fair. Everyone in Qianyun City comes here for such matters, and even people from afar make the pilgrimage to pray for children. Are you one of them?”
“Aaa?” said Xue Cuo.
They were nearly at the front of the line.
At the temple gate hung five-coloured silks, from which dangled nets of golden beads and rows upon rows of lifelike cloth dolls. Two tall temple attendants in bright robes stood guard, allowing only one person in at a time; only after one had finished the incense offering would they call the next.
Xue Cuo saw a man before them enter the shrine. The lady said, “See? That man’s praying for a child.”
Xue Cuo gave an “oh,” and nodded. “Then, jiejie, what did you mean about the prices being fair?”
She gave him a strange look, amused. “You truly don’t know? Are you sure you’re here to pray for a child?”
Well, they’d come this far; he might as well have a look.
It didn’t matter. He had no wife, so even if the god were efficacious, it wouldn’t concern him. He nodded.
She explained, “The offering depends on what sort of child you want… what kind of fate you wish for your offspring.”
Xue Cuo’s interest stirred. “For example?”
The lady tapped her handkerchief against her palm and counted off. “For instance, if you want a son, you pay for one month of lifespan; for a daughter, a month and a half. If you want her to be beautiful as a flower, add two more months. If you wish for a prodigy, born able to walk, reciting poetry at three, writing by five… you’ll have to add further months accordingly.”
“Besides that,” she added, “there are all sorts of destinies one can request.”
“Destiny?” Xue Cuo raised a brow. “You can actually ask for that?”
“Why not?” she replied. “But to request a destiny, you must first accumulate virtue. Only with enough virtue can you qualify.”
“And how exactly does one accumulate virtue?”
She didn’t seem impatient in the least. “Virtue is earned over time. It’s divided into three grades: first, second, and third. If a person bears three children, that’s third-grade virtue. With that, you can ask for a third-grade destiny. You’ll then be able to see each child’s future fortune and luck… who’ll be successful, who’ll be unlucky… all perfectly clear.”
Xue Cuo frowned slightly. “And if all three turn out badly?”
“If all three are bad, then you’re born under a sinful fate,” she said matter-of-factly. “It happens. Changing it is simple. Just place your sincere faith in the Great God Shiliu. Never visit other temples, cleanse your sins, and the curse will naturally dissolve. You may even ascend to second-grade virtue. Then you can pray for a child blessed with fortune or wealth, bring them home, and raise them with care.”
Xue Cuo looked towards the temple, then back at her. “And you, Miss. What are you praying for?”
She smiled, stroked her belly with some pride, and said, “I’ve had ten children. That makes me first grade in virtue. I can ask for an first-grade destiny. A child blessed with fortune, beauty, and wealth alike. My family’s already prepared for the birth. Once he grows up, we’ll at least be of official rank.”
“Next one!”
“Who’s next?”
The temple attendant at the door called out. The woman quickly answered, bid Xue Cuo farewell, lifted her skirts, and with a solemn smile, stepped into the incense-thick temple.
Xue Cuo stood before the shrine, his earlier smile gone.
The two attendants gave him a once-over, their expressions faintly odd. Xue Cuo kept his face still, refusing to turn away.
After a moment, one of the attendants seemed to sense something. “Next. Go in.”
Xue Cuo inclined his head in thanks, lifted his robes, and strode up the steps. His eyes glinted dangerously as he murmured to the little golden dragon, “Mu, what do you think of shixiong offering a stick of incense to this one, hmm?”
