Upon hearing the words, “Perhaps your shixiong will be angry,” Lin Shijin instinctively tensed.
After a moment’s thought, he realised it was indeed so. Yet if he refused, then disguising himself as a Scourge-Slayer Envoy would have been meaningless.
After considering it briefly, Lin Shijin said, “No need. I failed to think it through.”
What he meant was that he would find a solution himself. Cui Haoxue, however, felt a trace of regret. He was highly vigilant. Had he realised earlier that it was Mianmian, he would not have exposed him.
In the end, Lin Shijin emerged from the hall unharmed. Two Scourge-Slayer Envoys followed behind him, keeping neither too close nor too far, in accordance with Cui Haoxue’s orders.
“You disguised yourself as a scourge-slayer for less than a quarter of an hour,” Lin Fuheng said as he followed behind the youth. Seeing how dispirited he looked, he pressed a finger lightly against his shoulder.
“Before acting, you should consider the consequences. Since you chose to impersonate a slayer, you should have anticipated what you would do if you were discovered, and prepared for it in advance.”
Lin Shijin had indeed been careless. When given a path, he simply walked it, never considering what he would do if things went wrong.
Now that Cui Haoxue had discovered him yet let him go, it could be counted as good fortune. As for why someone had been sent to follow him, he had no idea.
Lin Shijin sighed, missing his shixiong. “Then what do we do now?”
He had no idea what Sheng Rufei was doing, nor why he was meant to wait an entire hour.
“Since someone is following you, just go straight there. No one will stop you,” Lin Fuheng said coolly. “Go to the Hall of Contemplation. Your shixiong is there.”
At the entrance of the hall, Cui Haoxue stood watching the youth depart. His gaze lingered for a long while before he finally looked away. Yue Han, standing beside him, spoke.
“He seems fated to cross paths with us. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”
“Master, there’s no need to rush,” Yue Han said thoughtfully. “He isn’t with his shixiong. they seem to have separated.”
“The road ahead is long. Whether they’ll encounter each other again is uncertain.”
Lin Shijin passed through three barriers, each stronger than the last. He did not know that Fuheng had concealed his presence, allowing him to pass the first barrier on his own, while quietly opening a back door through the remaining two.
The Hall of Contemplation lay in the rear mountain. Its gates stood alone, above them a towering divine statue. Its eyes were lowered, gazing down upon all living beings, making all things beneath it seem small and insignificant.
Jinyue Temple knew spring all year round. A breeze brushed past Lin Shijin, and he lifted his chin slightly. The entrance stood unguarded. Inside was an empty hall. There was nothing but walls carved with countless volumes of scripture.
Something flickered at the corner of his eye. He caught sight of a familiar figure. The youth was still dressed in the robes of a demon guard, and in the blink of an eye, he entered the hall.
Lin Shijin recognised Sheng Rufei at once. He instinctively called out, “Shixiong,” but received no reply. He followed him inside.
A barrier stood before the hall. Lin Shijin passed through it and stepped inside. A current of air swept through, carrying the scent of sandalwood. The interior was far larger than it appeared from outside, constructed like a stone grotto. Besides the carved scriptures, there were countless caves of varying sizes, their depths unknown.
At the very centre stood the statues of the Three Immortal Lords.
Lin Shijin did not see Sheng Rufei. Instead, his attention was drawn to the statues. He had seen them in texts before, and individually, but this was his first time seeing all three standing together.
Among the Three Immortal Lords, Fuheng stood at the centre, with Changming and Shouque on either side. One appeared aloof and refined, another cold and detached, and the third… difficult to put into words.
Lin Shijin’s gaze lingered longest on Shouque’s statue. He noticed the ornaments at Shouque’s ears, and the markings at his brow, lending that face an unsettling, bewitching beauty.
Before he could look away, his ear was pinched. A chilling voice sounded beside him.
“You like Shouque?”
A sharp pain shot through his ear. Lin Shijin hurriedly covered it. “No.”
“Then why do you keep staring at him?”
“Am I not even allowed to look?” Lin Shijin muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, afraid the other might pinch him again. His fingers twitched. “I’m just curious. They’re called the Three Immortal Lords, but their temperaments seem completely different.”
Lin Fuheng followed his gaze with a glance. Even he found his own statue difficult to look at… ugly, frankly. He released the youth’s ear.
“Feng Rugao and Shouque are both abnormal. Stay away from them in future.”
Lin Shijin: “……”
“That’s my shizun,” Lin Shijin said. He recalled how this person had criticised Feng Rugao more than once before. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he found himself unconsciously biased in his favour.
He glanced at Lin Fuheng and whispered, “You can say that to me, but don’t say it to anyone else. If someone overhears, we might both be sent to Forbidden Mountain.”
After all, these were the Three Immortal Lords. Hardly figures one could casually disparage.
Seeing how serious the youth looked, Lin Fuheng’s lips curved slightly, a faint smile lingering at the corner of his eyes. “Have you forgotten how your shizun treats you? You never learn.”
“I know,” Lin Shijin said. He thought the man was often fierce, with a temper that wasn’t exactly pleasant. His thoughts leapt ahead, and he asked, “Will you be staying with me from now on? I don’t even know your name.”
Surely he wouldn’t also be called Lin Shijin. That would be far too awkward.
“I won’t be with you forever,” Lin Fuheng said. “You are me, and I am you. By age, you should call me xiong zhang*.”
(*TN: address for elder brother.)
He was merely a wisp of soul, uncertain when he would dissipate. Before that happened, he needed to smooth the youth’s path as much as he could.
“How could I call you xiong zhang?” Lin Shijin refused at once, feeling uncomfortable. “Do you have the same name as me?”
“No,” Lin Fuheng replied after a brief pause. “You may call me Fuheng.”
Lin Shijin scratched his ear, making sure he hadn’t misheard. If this truly was his former life, then his parents must have greatly revered Immortal Lord Fuheng.
Not knowing Fuheng’s surname, he remarked casually, “It’s a good name. Were there many people called Fuheng back then…?”
He imagined Song Fuheng, Li Fuheng, Zhang Fuheng, Gu Fuheng… parents naming their children in hopes they might become another Fuheng. He found it perfectly understandable. Much like how names in his region often included dragons or phoenixes.
Lin Fuheng: “……”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, deciding it wasn’t worth explaining.
After finishing with the statues, Lin Shijin turned to face dozens of caves, large and small, clustered together like countless dark, hollow eyes. Eyes that seemed ready to swallow him whole at any moment.
He had no idea which one Sheng Rufei had entered.
He glanced again at the red thread on his wrist. It had vanished after he entered, perhaps because this place was a sacred ground within the temple. Here, his anxiety and unease eased somewhat, especially when he looked at the carved scriptures.
Though he couldn’t understand them, and they left his eyes aching, they inexplicably inspired calm. And a quiet sense of reverence.
“Do you know which one my shixiong went into?” Lin Shijin asked.
Lin Fuheng shook his head. “Since you don’t know, choose by instinct.”
“Pick the one that feels safer.”
Lin Shijin felt his ear pinched again. Each time Fuheng did this, it felt as though he were calculating something. He stared at the caves before him. Trust his instincts?
His instincts were sometimes sharp, sometimes maddeningly slow. There was no guarantee they would help.
Seeing how hesitant the youth was, Lin Fuheng said, “You’d best hurry. This place isn’t safe. The Snow Demon will trace it soon. When that happens, both you and your shixiong will be in danger.”
Lin Shijin’s heart tightened. He didn’t hesitate much longer. Being lazy by nature, he simply chose the nearest cave and stepped inside.
The cave was pitch-black. Lin Shijin rummaged through his storage pouch and took out a long-burning candle. Once lit, its glow illuminated half the cave wall.
Water dripped steadily somewhere within, and the temperature was noticeably lower than outside. His black boots made barely any sound as they touched the ground.
“Do you know why this place is called the Hall of Contemplation?” Lin Fuheng asked.
Lin Shijin was studying the murals along the walls. He shook his head. He knew little of immortal sect history.
The carvings were intricate and magnificent. Though the colours had faded over the years, and some details were no longer clear, the general meaning remained discernible.
“Is this the history of Jinyue Temple?”
Lin Fuheng hummed in affirmation. “They once lived in seclusion, only appearing in the mortal world a thousand years ago.”
“This is where the spiritual energy of Hanhuan Mountain converges. A formation here sustains the entire mountain’s vitality. It is also a place for divination, said to be closest to gods and Buddhas… hence the name Hall of Contemplation.”
So that was the reason. Lin Shijin listened with interest, his eyes darting left and right. The murals on either side were markedly different.
The left depicted the history of Jinyue Temple. The right, however, showed something else entirely. There were vast stretches of black mist, stained with the colours of blood and abyss, like a mortal hellscape.
The sight made him uncomfortable. Especially the figures kneeling together in twisted postures.
They were kneeling before an altar. It looked… like prayer.
He had no idea what had happened to them, yet every face was twisted in agony. The murals were carved with startling realism, each expression rendered with vivid clarity. Their faces were grey with despair, warped by resentment and pain; some looked no different from walking corpses, as though all vitality had been drained from them.
The sight made Lin Shijin deeply uncomfortable. He instinctively turned away. But just before he did, he caught sight of a figure amid the swirling black mist.
The silhouette looked faintly familiar. Shrouded in shadow, it was difficult to make out clearly; he could only see the figure kneeling on the ground, swearing an oath. Faint silver markings seemed to trace their body.
“Originally, you were never meant to enter this place. It was only because of the soul-decay and the Snow Demon’s interference that you managed to slip through the cracks.”
Lin Shijin was still holding the ever-burning candle. Unable to help himself, he asked, “How is it that you know everything?”
“I’ve lived more than a thousand years longer than you,” the man replied. His voice carried a faint, chilling edge as Lin Shijin’s ear was tugged again. “Besides, it’s all recorded in the texts here. I told you last time to read more.”
Lin Shijin felt a little ashamed. He pressed his lips together and said nothing further.
At first, the cave was so narrow it could barely accommodate two people. As they went on, however, it gradually widened. When they reached the end, the space suddenly opened up before them.
What lay ahead was a vast underground palace. Palace was truly the only word for it. At its centre stood a ritual altar formed from a Bagua (eight trigrams) array, covered in countless intricate incantations. The inscriptions interwove with one another, forming a naturally completed formation platform.
Behind the array, Lin Shijin caught sight of a familiar figure.
“Shixiong—”
His eyes lit up. The single, joyful cry carried unrestrained excitement, sweeping away all his earlier unease. He broke into a light run toward Sheng Rufei.
Hearing the movement, Sheng Rufei turned around, surprise flickering across his face. Before he could get out the word “Wait—”, he could only watch as the youth stepped squarely onto the formation carved into the ground.
White light burst forth.
Lin Shijin spread his arms, already preparing to throw himself into his shixiong’s embrace. Instead, blinding radiance swallowed him whole. And in the next instant, he was gone.
In the main hall, Jun Yewu sat in the seat of honour. After hearing his subordinate’s report, a sharp pain stabbed through his chest. He coughed twice, his complexion turning faintly pale.
“Saint Lord, I have searched the entirety of Jinyue Temple and found no sign of him…”
“Continue the search,” Jun Yewu said coldly. “Bring the guard who concealed him as well.”
“Yes.” The guard dissolved into black mist and vanished on the spot.
Jun Yewu’s expression darkened further. He was still considering how to capture the long-legged little creature who had slipped away when a burst of white light suddenly flared before him. A sweet, cool fragrance, like orchid frost, brushed against his senses.
“Shixiong—”
The youth hurled himself straight at him.
Something warm and soft collided with his chest. The impact struck directly against his wound, sending a sharp pain through his heart once more.
Lin Shijin was completely stunned, his mind blank. A chill crawled up his spine. Staring at the Heavenly Demon robe clenched in his fingers, he slowly lifted his head, as though finally realising something was terribly wrong.
