Two mountains formed from piles of copper coins

Within the Pure Immortal Temple, inside the grand hall.

Chen Huangpi ate the offerings one mouthful at a time.

He ate with relish, for he was genuinely hungry.

With each bite of pastries and fruit he swallowed, his body gradually regained some vitality.

In the blink of an eye, the empty essence between his kidneys bubbled forth.

Yet this essence was not transformed from the offerings.

Rather, after consuming the offerings, the essence within Chen Huangpi's body was naturally stimulated and began to emerge anew.

The essence seemed almost alive.

Once it appeared, it began to circulate wildly, growing rapidly, soon returning to its peak state.

"My essence has grown stronger," Chen Huangpi marveled.

He discovered that the essence between his kidneys did not immediately reinforce the Kidney Temple as it usually did. Though the temple was nearly complete, with only a few details left unfinished, the essence ignored it, instead relentlessly pursuing the black smoke within his body.

The doors of the Kidney Temple closed.

The black smoke, though strange, lacked any replenishment and was quickly beaten down by the essence.

The essence grew more valiant with each battle, soon driving the black smoke from his flesh, meridians, even pores, all into the Kidney Temple.

Chen Huangpi pointed with his sword finger.

A sharp, potent sword aura instantly flared from his fingertip.

Though it lacked the augmentation of the black smoke, it was purer and so sharp that even a glance seemed to slice the very gaze.

"So am I stronger now, or weaker?" Chen Huangpi wondered in confusion.

He turned to the old Daoist in purple robes beside him. "Master, what is the deal with this black smoke?"

"Black smoke, ah, black smoke is good..." The old Daoist drooled as he spoke. "You're still young, your flesh is tender and juicy. A bit of smoke now and then adds flavor, but beware of over-smoking—it ruins the meat and makes it inedible."

This answer was completely nonsensical.

Chen Huangpi knew he would get nowhere with this line of questioning.

Ever since his master lost his mind, his mental state fluctuated.

Good days were rare.

But there were degrees—slightly bad, moderately bad, and very bad.

The old master was usually only slightly bad, sometimes moderately so.

When only slightly bad, though foolish, he could speak coherently and answer questions.

Moderately bad was like now.

As for the second master, he was usually very bad, occasionally moderately so, and seldom only slightly bad—those few times were mostly an act.

"It seems I can't delay refining the Heavenly Poison Pill any longer," Chen Huangpi thought to himself. "Starting today, I'll prepare to refine the pills. Once master takes them and recovers, I can ask him again."

The black smoke was a thorn in Chen Huangpi's heart.

Though it arose naturally as he grew, it remained uncontrollable, with only a trace appearing in his sword aura on ordinary days.

But this time, it was as if something had provoked it.

Even the doors of the Kidney Temple were thrown open.

Fortunately, by forcibly activating the yet unfinished Six Yin Divine Barrier, he managed to close the doors and confine the black smoke inside.

Otherwise, Chen Huangpi felt his body would continue to grow unchecked.

His consciousness was nowhere near strong enough to control an endlessly expanding body; eventually, thoughts would take days, years, even decades to yield any physical reaction.

And this was only the black smoke.

Chen Huangpi remembered his master mentioning that, as he matured, not only would black smoke emerge, but other things as well.

The black smoke came from the Kidney Temple.

Perhaps the Liver, Heart, Spleen, and Lung Temples would also produce similar phenomena?

Just then, Granny Tang's voice suddenly called from outside the grand hall.

"Young lord, those cultivators have returned."

...

Song Qiu Yue and the other cultivators stood uneasily at the entrance of the Pure Immortal Temple.

Yesterday, when they arrived, they were lofty and proud; today, they appeared bedraggled.

Such is the shift from arrogance to humility.

When Chen Huangpi approached with Granny Tang and others, Song Qiu Yue was about to speak but was startled to notice that the boy who appeared eight or nine yesterday seemed to have grown a whole year overnight.

Standing before her, Chen Huangpi made her involuntarily step back.

This puzzled him. "Huang Er, why is she so afraid of me?"

"She's just startled—seeing you grow so quickly would scare anyone."

"I see," Chen Huangpi said, enlightened. Addressing Song Qiu Yue, he explained, "You needn't be afraid. At my age, growing fast is normal; perhaps I'll grow extra legs someday—aren't you the same?"

"We... we..." Song Qiu Yue stammered, her face pale.

It was normal for children to grow quickly, but this was far from normal.

Especially the prospect of extra legs.

"Young lord, she likely has something to discuss with you. You ask her like this, and she doesn't know how to respond," Granny Tang interjected, having been convinced by the mountain god. No matter how much Chen Huangpi changed, even if he turned into a talking yellow weasel, Granny Tang would show no outward surprise.

Song Qiu Yue, oblivious to these strange happenings, gratefully glanced at Granny Tang and quickly said, "Chen Huangpi, does your temple have guest rooms? We'd like to stay for a day."

The deities had already sent word to Xuzhou for aid.

They were likely already on their way.

So long as they survived until then, they had a slim chance.

The sinister old Daoist clearly did not intend to let them leave, so they had no choice but to stay.

Chen Huangpi did not object. "Stay a day? You could stay a year, as long as you have enough money."

"Money?"

"Yes, money." Chen Huangpi eyed Song Qiu Yue and the others, dressed in fine silks and brocades—surely they weren't penniless?

"Wait a moment," Song Qiu Yue turned to Zhao Hai and the others. "Did any of you bring money?"

As a daughter of the Song family, she never lacked for anything, though she wasn't ignorant of what money was. Such matters were usually handled by others.

Zhao Hai and the other cultivators exchanged glances, then all lowered their heads.

Song Qiu Yue was a noblewoman, and they were Nascent Soul masters... Besides, this wasn't Xuzhou city; who would carry money with them?

Seeing this, Chen Huangpi's face darkened.

At that moment, the old Daoist in purple robes suddenly appeared behind him, grinning at Song Qiu Yue and the others.

"Master, your drool is on my shoulder," Chen Huangpi said helplessly, wiping it away.

The old Daoist remained still, staring at the group, his drool flowing endlessly.

The scene was disturbingly odd.

...

Chen Huangpi had no idea of Song Qiu Yue’s tangled thoughts.

He kept his face stern and said irritably, "What's the matter with you? Even a child my age carries a string of coins, but you, all dressed up, can't even pay for a night's stay in the temple? Leave now; my temple doesn't take paupers."

"Master, don't you agree?"

"Hehe, paupers, delicious!" The old Daoist's gaze was vacant, drooling as if savoring the taste of paupers.

Song Qiu Yue, pampered since childhood, had never been called a pauper, nor suffered such indignity. She wanted to storm off, but the old Daoist’s remark about paupers being tasty froze her in place.

"Chen Huangpi—no, young lord..." Song Qiu Yue took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "I left in a hurry and didn't bring much money. Could we owe it for now? I’ll sign in black and white; as a daughter of the Song family of Qinghe, I never renege on a debt."

"No, absolutely not," Chen Huangpi shook his head. "If you all put it on credit, how am I supposed to earn anything?"

If the seventy-two secret pills failed to cure his master, he’d have to seek help from someone outside.

Treatment would cost money.

Though Chen Huangpi didn’t know how much, he always aimed to save as much as possible.

He feared that missing even a single coin might mean the expert refused to treat his master, leaving him mad forever.

Song Qiu Yue was nearly driven mad by Chen Huangpi, but dared not show anger, only continuing to promise, "Money—my Song family has plenty. We'll only stay one day. I’ll give you a mountain of copper coins, how about that?"

"A mountain of copper coins?" Chen Huangpi said, displeased. "You think I don’t have one? I have Jade Qiong Mountain, and mountains to the east and west. What use is your gold and silver mountain? What I want is this!"

He pulled out a string of copper coins.

"See clearly?"

"Alright," Song Qiu Yue said dryly, "I’ll give you a mountain made of copper coins."

"Two mountains!" Chen Huangpi said seriously. "Gold and silver together make two mountains."

"Fine, two mountains it is!"

They wrote it down in black and white, signed and sealed.

Chen Huangpi put away the Soul-Calling Register, then led Song Qiu Yue and the others to the guest rooms.

"There are three guest rooms; you’ll stay here tonight, but by this time tomorrow, you must leave."

"And if someone knocks at night, pretend you don’t hear—just sleep through it."

Just as he’d instructed Granny Tang and others, Chen Huangpi now warned Song Qiu Yue and her companions.

"And tomorrow, I want to see my copper coin mountains."

"Rest assured, the Song family of Qinghe never breaks its word!"

"You’d better not!"

Once Chen Huangpi and the old Daoist departed, Song Qiu Yue and the other cultivators felt as if pardoned.

Nascent Soul experts, all, yet now sweating like common folk.

"This is too bizarre... too bizarre."

"Miss, are you really going to give him two mountains of copper coins?"

"Do I dare not?" Song Qiu Yue replied coldly. "That old Daoist is terrifying, and his heart is entirely on Chen Huangpi. Money is nothing compared to my life."

She truly meant it, and acted accordingly; she’d already informed the deities to have the Song family bring two mountains of copper coins.

And at sunrise, she requested more deities be sent for help—two plans in all.

If they couldn’t win, they’d pay.

If they could, those mountains of coins would be used to bury the damned master and disciple.