63. The Spring Breeze Never Disappoints the Young

The concept of a Third Master was utterly foreign to Chen Huangpi. He had never met the Third Master. The Third Master existed only in the words of the First and Second Masters.

Now, hearing the brass oil lamp speculate in such a way, Chen Huangpi couldn’t help but glance at his master simmering in the pot. His master now had two heads—one was the First Master, the other the Second. If they weren’t unconscious, they’d probably already be cursing out the Third Master.

As he thought about it, a strange expectation rose in Chen Huangpi’s heart. “If the Third Master comes out, will he love me just as much as the First and Second Masters do?”

But as soon as he said this, Chen Huangpi sensed something off. Where would he get a Third Master from? It was only because his master had gone mad that he claimed to have three, distinguished by three colors. In reality, it was always the same person.

Hurriedly, Chen Huangpi shook his head and said earnestly, “I don’t want a Third Master. I just want my original master.”

The brass oil lamp replied in a low, somber tone, “That may not be for you to decide.” Last time, when Chen Huangpi’s true form was revealed, the Ten-Thousand Mountains had responded with an omen. From the words of the Temple Master at the time, it was obvious—he wouldn’t awaken anytime soon. Even if he did, there would only be a Third Temple Master. “Let’s hope the Third Temple Master is a bit more normal,” the brass oil lamp thought bitterly. “The Great Temple Master wants to refine pills, the Second wants to eat raw flesh. Judging by their words, the Third should be a good one. Heaven forbid he falls for the same madness.”

Two Temple Masters were already madness enough. If a third appeared, would the world not be turned upside down?

Just then, a weak voice sounded—it was the Fox Mountain God. “Chen Huangpi, I’ve finally found you.” The voice arrived before the figure did.

Chen Huangpi looked toward the door, but after waiting a while saw no sign of the Fox Mountain God. It seemed the voice had been an illusion. Startled, Chen Huangpi asked, “Huang Er, am I hearing things again?”

“No, I heard it too.”

“Then why hasn’t it come in?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen that little fox, but I did spot something odd, looks like a puppy.”

The brass oil lamp was puzzled too. Its avatars were stationed all around Pure Immortal Temple—even in the outhouse hung a lamp. Nothing escaped its notice. But after searching, it couldn’t spot the Fox Mountain God anywhere.

At that moment, a puppy crawled to the doorway. It was roughly as long as Chen Huangpi’s arm, its body skin and bones, and it held two severed legs in its pointed mouth.

“My master often said that even ants cling to life. I never believed it, but today I’ve seen it for myself.” Chen Huangpi sighed. “Huang Er, it’s too pitiful living like this. I can’t bear to see it suffer. Give it a quick end.”

With that, he closed his eyes.

“Wait, it’s me—I’m the Fox Mountain God!” A wail followed, “Ah, my legs!”

As the Fox Mountain God spoke, the two severed legs fell from its mouth, nearly shattering.

“So it really is you.” Chen Huangpi hurriedly opened his eyes and jumped down from the stove. “Fox Mountain God, let me help you.”

“Don’t come any closer!” the Fox Mountain God cried in panic. “You’ve helped me enough—any more and I’ll be finished. Let me handle this myself.”

Chen Huangpi was cunning, yes, and powerful. But these weren’t his own legs. If he wasn’t careful, both legs would be crushed. The Fox Mountain God still hoped one day to reattach them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” Chen Huangpi said. He remembered how he’d indeed been a bit forceful when returning the Fox Mountain God this morning. No wonder the Fox Mountain God was afraid he’d be too rough.

Hearing this, the Fox Mountain God touched the back of its head, where there was a large hole—the result of a blow Chen Huangpi had delivered the day before, knocking it out cold, leaving its words now leaking air.

The Fox Mountain God looked mournfully at Chen Huangpi, who turned away, pretending not to notice.

The brass oil lamp, seeing the Fox Mountain God in such a pitiful state, couldn’t help but ask, “Little fox, your incense power is down to a wisp, your divine body full of cracks—how have you survived?”

“Survived?” The Fox Mountain God let out a bitter laugh. “No reason except a cheap life.”

Indeed, just days ago it had been a lofty mountain god. Now, it was little better than a crippled, stray dog. To fall so low as a deity—perhaps death would be preferable.

Just then, the bubbling of boiling water filled the air. Chen Huangpi hurried back to the stove and lifted the lid. Billowing steam transformed the kitchen into a world of mist, and a rich fragrance filled the air.

“This scent…” The Fox Mountain God took a single breath and its eyes widened in shock, its body trembling uncontrollably. Then, as if possessed, it opened its mouth and inhaled desperately.

But Chen Huangpi didn’t notice. He checked the pot—his master’s body was still stiff, no rise or fall of the chest, not even a breath to be felt. Both he and his master were tough as old leather—hard to cook.

Yet Chen Huangpi found it odd. “The medicine’s effect should be forced out by now. There ought to be some change in Master’s body.” Was the fire not strong enough?

Thinking this, Chen Huangpi said, “Huang Er, stoke the fire higher—ten times hotter if you can. Otherwise, I’m afraid he won’t be cooked through.”

The brass oil lamp didn’t reply, but stared at the Fox Mountain God, deep in thought.

At this moment, the Fox Mountain God had closed its eyes, mouth wide open, inhaling the fragrant steam with abandon. It was intoxicated by the changes in its body. With each breath, its shattered form became more supple.

A divine body was in essence a clay or wooden idol; even a cultivator, upon becoming a god, left a mortal husk behind. Yet this fragrant steam seemed to nourish it more than incense ever had—as if it was meant to feed on such a scent.

What amazed the Fox Mountain God most was that it felt a new power, akin to incense, growing within it. The current incense was simply human devotion. But before the world changed, gods had needed no incense—such offerings were merely gifts from mortals. What gods truly needed was spiritual energy.

Was this steam spiritual energy? The Fox Mountain God didn’t know. It knew only that, at this moment, it was being revived. The scent in the air grew stronger with each breath. Just one inhale, and its very soul nearly soared out of its body.

“Delicious! It’s truly delicious!”

The Fox Mountain God’s eyes flew open as it prepared to use its divine power to draw in all the fragrant steam. But Chen Huangpi abruptly closed the pot lid, and the scent vanished.

Barred from the aroma, the Fox Mountain God grimaced in anger. “Chen Huangpi, you—”

“What?”

“What are you boiling in there? It smells incredible. I’ve never encountered anything like it.”

“Oh, that? It’s my master.”

“What? The Temple Master?”

The Fox Mountain God’s vision darkened, its soul nearly leaping from its body, as if it saw a withered old face asking it, “Enjoyed your fill? If so, it’s my turn to devour you now.”

“Temple Master, it wasn’t on purpose!” The Fox Mountain God, body and soul together, prostrated itself before the pot, begging for mercy. “Forgive me, Temple Master! If I’d known it was you in the pot, I wouldn’t have dared take a single whiff. I’ll spit it back out this instant!”

It opened its mouth and expelled a breath.

Chen Huangpi frowned. “Huang Er, what’s this?”

It felt like his vital essence, but less pure.

The brass oil lamp answered, “It’s spiritual energy.” Though the Temple Master had created it after the world’s transformation began, spiritual energy had still existed then.

Chen Huangpi finally understood. “So the scent isn’t from the medicine. Even ten times the fire may not cook Master through. I’ll need the alchemical furnace—much more powerful.”

Off to the side, the Fox Mountain God listened in terror to the conversation between man and lamp. So the spiritual energy was the Temple Master’s bathwater steam; that made sense. Forget spiritual energy—even immortality would not be too much to expect. But Chen Huangpi was actually cooking the Temple Master? And thought the fire too low, planning to use the alchemical furnace to refine him?

Was he not turning the world upside down, plotting his master’s destruction?

Shuddering, the Fox Mountain God looked at the pot, then shrieked, “Chen Huangpi, what are you doing to the Temple Master?”

Chen Huangpi replied, “I drugged Master—once the medicine’s effect is purged, he’ll wake up.”

“There’s no soul left—what is there to wake? The dead can’t rise again. If the Temple Master does awaken…”

It shook its head violently. “No, the Temple Master will return. But when he does, he won’t be himself, but the resurrected lord of the Ten-Thousand Mountains. If that being appears, the world will be doomed.”

At these words, Chen Huangpi immediately objected, “Master is omnipotent—he can’t die, nor turn evil.”

“Resurrected?” The brass oil lamp seemed to recall something. It scrambled to the stove, golden light flashing in its eyes. Until then, it had never thought the Temple Master would die, nor dared to probe his inner state. But the Fox Mountain God’s words gave it courage to look.

One glance and it trembled uncontrollably, oil dripping from its base.

The Temple Master’s soul was truly dissipating. Flecks of gold light, dreamlike and ethereal. Even the brass oil lamp, which doubted the Temple Master had a soul, could not call it anything else. He couldn’t just be dreaming.

The lamp let out a bitter laugh, “Resurrected indeed.”

The demonic tree had resurrected, allowing it to escape the old temple. The Third Temple Master had also been trapped there. Now, using the Seventy-Two Secret Pills, and Chen Huangpi’s own hand, he was pitting himself against himself—a killing blow from the start.

That demonic tree resurrected neither earlier nor later, but precisely now. If the Third Temple Master hadn’t nudged things along, the brass oil lamp would never believe it.

Now that Chen Huangpi’s Kidney Temple was complete, and before inviting a deity to reside within, he was a bane to all demons and gods alike.

The Temple Master’s power was immense; dying would take time, and resurrection even more. During this period, the demonic tree was obviously a protective umbrella given to Chen Huangpi by the Third Temple Master.

“Well, well—a true Poison Pill,” the brass oil lamp quavered. “Touch it and you die, brush against it and you perish; in three breaths, the soul is scattered. One pill to kill the Temple Master! With the First gone, the Second and Third can claim the body for themselves. So very cunning!”

Now, even if Chen Huangpi were slow, he understood the gravity of the situation. If the Third Master emerged, he might never see his lucid, gentle master again.

At that moment, the brass oil lamp clutched his hand, voice full of bitter sorrow. “You’re the Temple Master’s darling. All his selves love you dearly. But after being split into thousands and suppressed in the old temple for so many years, do you think the Third Temple Master, once free, will spare me?”

“I don’t know, Huang Er. I really don’t know,” Chen Huangpi replied, tears glinting in his eyes.

He was filled with pain, as if a shadow had fallen over him. Even the memory of his master’s kind face, offering him candied hawthorn, seemed to be fading away.

Mistakes teach lessons. Only loss leaves a lasting mark.

Only now did Chen Huangpi realize he had grown up, that his priestly robe no longer fit. It was time to become a true young man.

He wiped his tears, his voice resolute. “Down to Yellow Springs, through the lands of the dead—I will climb Fallen Mountain. At its peak lies the Soul-Returning Jade. With it, I can restore my master’s soul. I can do it! I am not afraid!”