The temple keeper was devout to the extreme. Seeing that the boy’s bones were fine, his blood vigorous, his waist slender and his backside rather pert, he was certain the lad could bear children. He counselled earnestly, “This is a blessing from Heaven itself!”
The boy stared at him, dumbfounded. “But how can a man give birth?”
The temple keeper burst out laughing, utterly indifferent to the blood and severed limbs strewn about. In a sonorous voice, he said, “Boy, you’re clinging to appearances.”
No one around seemed surprised. Patrol squads were already out, scrubbing away the blood and efficiently collecting the corpses.
The rest of the townsfolk carried on as usual. Some tended to their pregnancies, others strolled about at leisure. The women and children who had been frantically trying to save an infant only moments ago, upon seeing it draw its last breath, promptly stood up, went to the jewellery stalls to buy beaded hairpins, and laughed cheerfully, faces serene, as though nothing had happened.
Xue Cuo tried a quick divination, but found nothing. He folded his hands behind his back, quietly observing.
“They don’t seem the least bit sad.”
“Every household here is overflowing with people. If a few die, it’s a relief.”
For a moment, Xue Cuo choked on his breath. It all felt absurd. The temple keeper, thinking he still doubted, explained with great patience.
“Why must it be women who give birth? That’s unfair to men.”
“At first, men in Qianyun City couldn’t bear children. But when they saw women living comfortably after having three at a time, everyone envied them. They too wished for easy lives and full bellies, so they sincerely prayed to our Lord. And our Lord, generous as ever, granted their wish.”
“Now men, elders, even children… as long as they are willing… can accumulate virtue and bring glory to their families.”
“Virtue?”
The temple keeper smiled, pointing upwards. “A fine thing it is too, one that leads to longevity. And if you bear enough…” He lowered his voice mysteriously. “Becoming an immortal isn’t out of the question.”
“Become immortal?” Xue Cuo’s brows twitched; he nearly laughed out loud in disbelief. The little golden dragon, sensing his eldest shixiong rising temper, quickly coiled his tail around him in a bid to soothe him.
There were too many gods of power here.
Eldest Shixiong, think before you act!
Death was one thing; dishonour quite another!
If he were caught and, Heaven forbid, laid a dragon’s egg, what would the great serpents and mighty fish think of him then? How could he ever show his face in the waters again?
Suppressing his anger, Xue Cuo lifted his brows and gave a bashful smile. “What a magnificent blessing! For gege to tell me so is a grace indeed. I’d be honoured to serve your lord. Might there be a place for me?”
The temple keeper felt, in some mysterious way, that the boy was fated. He drew Xue Cuo aside, saying warmly, “You’ve saved many lives today. That’s merit enough.”
“When you’ve given birth to three children, come back to me. I’ll see you rewarded with a fine post!”
Xue Cuo quickly declined, a pained expression on his face. “I’d love to, truly, but I already have a wife. A famously fierce and jealous one. If I fall pregnant without telling her, and she finds out… our household won’t survive the night.”
The temple keeper glared. “You should surprise her!”
Xue Cuo waved his hands earnestly, spouting nonsense without the faintest blush. “I’m utterly devoted to her, loyal to the death… so forgive me, but I must refuse…”
Seeing how troubled he looked, the temple keeper gave up, assuming the boy was simply too foolish to recognise a good thing. Still, he was reluctant to waste such fine flesh and bone. Discovering that Xue Cuo could read and write, he was even more delighted and kept him on as a temple sweeper.
Xue Cuo didn’t mind in the least. Yet, as he later noticed, every able-bodied newcomer to the city was similarly ‘persuaded’. The others, weaker-willed and already seeking favours from the Shiliu God, all accepted with enthusiasm. They filing into the temple and emerging moments later with glowing faces.
Thus Xue Cuo became the temple’s sweeper. But since virtue here was earned through pregnancy, there wasn’t a single infertile soul among the servants. Every one of them was heavy with child. Only Xue Cuo could still manage to sweep, dust, and tidy without toppling over.
On his first day, he lazily swept a few leaves before the temple gate.
The little golden dragon was heartbroken, struggling to emerge. “Eldest Shixiong, how can one as pure and lofty as you stoop to sweeping floors!”
Xue Cuo pressed him back into hiding, voice calm. “Don’t make a scene.”
“Wuuh, Eldest Shixiong…”
“This city’s spiritual air is too dense, too chaotic,” Xue Cuo murmured. “If you come out now, you’ll only cause me trouble.”
The little dragon was struck as if by lightning, turned to stone. “Then I can’t even pour tea or massage your legs?”
Xue Cuo: “…”
At times, he truly wondered what sort of cultivation this golden dragon had been practising in his second life.
When sweeping became tiresome, Xue Cuo sat by the stone mill at the temple entrance, watching the passers-by.
In the past few days, he had learnt that Qianyun City was divided into four quarters, each governed by a Xianghuo deity. So far, he had seen only one: Shiliu. The names of the other three remained unknown. He didn’t know which might be the Goddess’s old acquaintance either, but he would have to find time to investigate.
As he was thinking this, someone bumped into him. It was a flash of movement, gone before he could react.
It was that beggar from the other day.
Xue Cuo leaned on his broom, expression unchanging. A tiny “walk” sigil flickered in his palm. Instinctively, he thought of the ruined temple.
Who was warning him?
Could it be… Ren Shu-gege?
But the Ren Temple had already collapsed. It was said that every statue within had been smashed. Ren Shu was no mere Xianghuo god, he cultivated his physical body, and his flesh itself was divine form.
If the statues were destroyed, he could hardly have survived.
If not Ren Shu-gege, then who wanted him gone?
Xue Cuo crushed the talisman into powder and flicked it away, as if brushing off dust.
The domain of the Shiliu God lay in the west, with seventy-seven temples great and small. The one Xue Cuo served in was the main shrine.
The temple itself was not grand, but nestled among common homes and bustling with incense offerings. The clatter of hooves rang down the street.
At some point, a dust-covered but luxurious carriage rolled past, bearing a man and a woman; husband and wife, judging by their manner.
The woman, pale and weak after a recent miscarriage, had been dragged across a thousand miles by her husband to this god’s temple, begging for a son to continue the family line.
She was sickened to the core. Unable to resist, despairing to the point of death, she refused to go inside, whereupon her husband seized her by the hair and beat her mercilessly.
That was that.
The woman’s expression went glassy.
“Pardon the dusting… aiya!”
A great broom swung through the air, sweeping her straight into the temple. The door slammed shut with a click. The woman clutched her mouth in alarm.
Xue Cuo threw the broom aside, dropped the latch, and called out over his shoulder, “Gege, I’ve made a mess!”
The temple keeper, returning from inspecting the womb offerings, heard Xue Cuo’s cry for help. With a wave of his hand, the temple doors flew open. Inside, the arrogant gentleman was kneeling on a prayer mat, his belly faintly swollen. He’d clearly been shocked into something unnatural.
Xue Cuo poked his head out from behind the temple keeper. The latter said, “Well then. You’ve got what you came for. Off you go.”
The gentleman clutched his stomach, pointing at Xue Cuo but unable to speak a word.
The temple keeper’s brows snapped together. His face darkened. “Out.”
That single word sent the man fleeing in terror. Glancing around at the eerie hall, he stumbled and crawled his way to the door. The woman waiting outside half reached out to steady him, then quietly withdrew her hand.
The temple keeper glanced around the spotless hall, ran a finger along a beam, and nodded approvingly. “Nicely done. You’ve worked with true sincerity.”
Xue Cuo hurried to pour him tea, his tongue honeyed with flattery. “It’s only right to do credit to gege’s guidance.”
The temple keeper hadn’t seen such a bright and tactful helper in ages. The clever ones had long since gone off to serve other gods, leaving behind only the dull, the simple, or those too busy stockpiling good karma.
He had been running about all day and was somewhat tired, yet he didn’t forget to reward loyalty. “Keep up the good work,” he said. “I’ll still honour my promise. Three children per birth.”
Xue Cuo’s hand trembled; he nearly dropped the teapot. He forced a smile and nodded repeatedly.
Roughly half a month passed like this, and Xue Cuo was at last trusted to keep watch over the incense altar.
That night, the sky was moonless and starless. Xue Cuo waited until deep into the night. When the temple attendants had fallen asleep, he pasted a transformation talisman on the little golden dragon, turning it into his likeness, then slipped behind the god statue.
The statue was peculiar. Behind it, a talisman glowed faintly, the heart of a formation.
He had noticed it only briefly before, without time to study it. Now, with leisure and suspicion in equal measure, he began to examine it closely.
“Tsk. The beginning and end of this seal aren’t simple. Could this have been drawn by the Shiliu God himself?”
“Still, it’s not impossible to unpick.”
To others, the talisman would have appeared complete; its Daoist rhythm and imagery flowing seamlessly, forming a perfect whole. But to Xue Cuo, it was like a treasure chest waiting to be teased open thread by thread.
The deeper he delved, the greater his interest grew. His brush moved like a dragon in flight, pausing and darting. Finally, he prised open the smallest imperfection… a hairline crack invisible to all but him.
At the instant it broke, his spirit loosened and he plunged into unending darkness. He had no idea how long he fell before a low groan reached his ears.
Xue Cuo awoke with a jolt. When he looked up, he froze as though nailed to the ground.
He was lying before a massive chair, carved with strange sigils.
Following its towering frame upward, he saw an enormous foot. Upon it sat a giant-like deity.
There were four chairs in total, four figures seated upon them.
They were in the midst of discussion when one of the gods suddenly sniffed and said, “There’s a human stench.”
Another sneered. “Told you to stop eating people. The Rakshasa Ghost should’ve been warning enough.”
The first god, about to peer down, barked back, “That was his own stupidity. Who dares try to kill themselves into godhood now? Those hypocrites above would never allow it.”
“The bold die from excess, the timid from hunger,” said another. “He’s a breath away from resurrection. And you? Still cowering in Qianyun City, too frightened to step outside your own temple. What kind of god is that?”
“Utter rot!” the other thundered.
“Enough,” came a cool, detached voice, cutting across their quarrel.
“What matters is this. The demon who slew the Rakshasa Ghost has entered Qianyun City.”
“What?”
Xue Cuo strained to listen, but at once felt a gaze fall upon him. He snapped the connection, fled back like a ghost to his prayer mat, and stuffed the little golden dragon into his robes.
The night passed without further incident.
The next morning, as Xue Cuo was sweeping the temple steps, a cheerful voice called out.
“Little bro Xue! Look who’s come!”
Xue Cuo’s heart skipped. He looked up.
The temple keeper beamed. “It’s your dear wife, the one you’ve been pining for.”
