67. Entering the Old Temple, a Single Hand

After nightfall, the Pure Immortal Temple became a place altogether different. Many new areas appeared, and thus there were numerous paths leading into the Old Temple. Some were stone roads swallowed by darkness halfway through; one only needed to cross them to enter the Old Temple. Others were simply rooms, or gates to courtyards. Yet the route closest to the Scripture Pavilion remained the one Chen Huangpi had traversed before, passing the entrance gate.

Now, he and the brass oil lamp were at the gate. Peering inside, it was eerie and obscure, impossible to see clearly. Chen Huangpi had entered the Old Temple seven or eight times in total, but each entry left him uneasy. He knew exactly what he intended: after entering, he would head straight for the Scripture Pavilion, take either Goldhorn or Silverhorn, whichever he could, and leave—so as not to prolong the night and risk unforeseen troubles.

"This time we'll be quick, in and out; if necessary, I'll use the Divine Light of Escape to get you out," the brass oil lamp warned, its tone exceedingly cautious. The Third Temple Master still resided within the Old Temple. Though, in theory, the Third Master should not harm Chen Huangpi—otherwise, with all his previous visits, something would have happened already—yet with the precedent set by the First and Second Masters, it was hard to believe the Third wouldn't devise some new method of consumption.

With that thought, the brass oil lamp added, "If needed, you can activate the Dog-Taming Scripture to control me. But how much of your vital energy has recovered?"

"Let me calculate," Chen Huangpi mused silently, then shook his head. "Less than a tenth of a tenth." Earlier, the energy in the Kidney Shrine had been abundant, thanks to the black smoke mingled with sword energy—the fruits of slaughtering tens of thousands, their vital force consumed. Now, with the shrine complete and his kidneys vanished, that surging energy was gone, replaced by new energy generated by his liver—yellow tinged with green, like bile, barely a wisp.

"So little?" The brass oil lamp was curious. "You must have drawn a lot of power from the Demon Tree, then?" It was exceedingly attentive to Chen Huangpi, sensing he had grown much stronger, surely having absorbed much from the Demon Tree.

Chen Huangpi frowned. "Huang Er, you're talking nonsense. First, I didn't draw it; the Demon Tree gave it willingly. Second, it’s my power."

"How is the Demon Tree's power yours?" retorted the brass oil lamp.

Chen Huangpi replied with certainty, "The Kidney Shrine is mine, the Demon Tree belongs to the shrine, so naturally its power is mine."

"Ha..." The brass oil lamp snorted derisively. By that logic, if it moved into the Kidney Shrine, its power would become Chen Huangpi's as well? Shameless.

Chen Huangpi, not using the Dog-Taming Scripture constantly, was unaware of the lamp's silent complaints. He straightened his expression and spoke softly, "Huang Er, I'm going in. Your senses are keener than mine—if anything feels wrong, warn me."

"Don't worry, I've got it," came the reply.

With that, Chen Huangpi plunged into the Old Temple with the brass oil lamp in tow.

The next instant, darkness engulfed him. His foot slipped, his body lost all sense of weight, and he plummeted rapidly.

...

Elsewhere, within Xuzhou City, it was likewise deep into the night. For ordinary folk, darkness was terrifying—evil entities lurked in the shadows. Even with thousands of deities protecting Xuzhou, an occasional apparition would emerge from unknown quarters. Sometimes, evil appeared once every few months, sometimes years would pass without a trace.

Though each time an evil entity appeared, the gods swiftly exterminated it on the spot, every household still barred their doors and windows at night, extinguishing lamps and sleeping in darkness.

But even so, the residence of Grand Tutor Wang Taiyu was ablaze with light.

He entered the privy, clothes half undone, reeking of wine. Once inside, he spoke in a low voice, "Why are you back so quickly?"

"Returned empty-handed, naturally swift."

"Discovered?"

"No, the gods were summoned back to Xuzhou halfway through, all in a hurry, as if something urgent had occurred."

Wang Taiyu frowned. "Where did those hundred gods go?"

"A place called Pure Immortal Temple. Beyond that, I know nothing."

"You don't know how to get there?"

"No."

Hearing this, Wang Taiyu was instantly disappointed. "Then leave me be, let me ponder for a bit."

"Yes, Grand Tutor," the voice replied, never addressing him as father. Yet Wang Taiyu was not disheartened. His son had always been aloof, disdainful of all, even his own father.

Just then, Wang Taiyu noticed someone approaching. He coughed twice.

The visitor stopped. "Grand Tutor, a few distinguished guests have summoned a courtesan for company. I was told to inform you."

"I'll join them after I’ve used the privy."

"Very well, I shall take my leave."

The man turned away, and Wang Taiyu sneered inwardly. Was it worth sending someone just to announce the presence of courtesans? Surely, they wanted to see if the infamous lecherous Grand Tutor was truly in the privy. With this thought, Wang Taiyu pulled down his undergarments and squatted. The excuse of visiting the privy was growing thin, but fortunately, he'd lately lived like any mortal—drinking and urinating, eating and defecating—so it was plausible.

While relieving himself, Wang Taiyu mused.

"Counting today, Song Tiangang has already secretly diverted half the taxes."

"And the city god seems unaware. Who knows if he's gone mad or has some ulterior motive?"

He chuckled to himself. If Song Tiangang was mad, it was no concern of his own. He was here only to collect taxes. With Song Tiangang committing such acts for personal gain, the emperor would not let him off. Taxes were needed everywhere.

Within five days, the capital would send officials to deal with the matter. Song Tiangang would not only lose his head, but would also have to disgorge the embezzled taxes. Wang Taiyu’s position might even rise.

In today's Dachang, monsters and demons ran rampant. To achieve anything, one had to constantly climb higher, but ascending too far made one conspicuous—unless everyone knew you were the loyal dog of those above, the most faithful, or else you risked being tossed out as a scapegoat.

Wang Taiyu understood this well, always operating within the rules of both aristocracy and court, earning the nickname "the Grand Tutor Dog."

Just then, Wang Taiyu furrowed his brow. His son had returned so quickly, he’d forgotten to bring toilet paper.

Abruptly, a hand extended from the side, offering a stack of paper.

"Grand Tutor, please, take your time."

Wang Taiyu’s face darkened at once. "Get out!"

...

Elsewhere, within the Old Temple.

A crimson moon hung high. Without the Demon Tree's canopy to block out the sky, the place was no longer pitch-black as before. Moonlight now revealed glimpses of the surroundings.

But in just a few days, the Old Temple had undergone earth-shattering changes. From the smallest green stone or pebble to grand pavilions—all had risen and floated in midair. Everything was topsy-turvy, some even upside-down. The evil entities were no exception.

At that moment, Chen Huangpi stood atop a floating green stone. When he'd entered the Old Temple, he’d stepped into nothingness and fallen straight down, landing in panic upon the stone before he could leap through the air.

All around was blue mist; nothing could be seen except beneath his feet.

"Chen Huangpi, look below!" the brass oil lamp shrieked.

Chen Huangpi looked down. There was no visible boundary; the Old Temple expanded limitlessly, the earth trembled as if a dragon stirred beneath, splitting into countless cracks. Azure mist seeped from within, gathering toward the crimson moon above.

No trace of the Old Temple remained on the ground—for everything now floated in the sky, Chen Huangpi included.

"Just a few days gone, how could such a change occur?" Chen Huangpi was shaken, murmuring, "Could it be because of the Third Master?"

"It must be him!" the brass oil lamp said in terror. "The Third Temple Master wants to escape the Old Temple by resurrection. Yet the temple is too deeply entwined with him; it's already causing such upheaval. If he succeeds, even my countless avatars won't be able to stop the temple's spread."

Its avatars were arranged with meticulous care, forming some unknown array to resist the temple's expansion. Originally, the lamp had thought if the Third Master truly escaped, it would beg Chen Huangpi for mercy, hoping their years of camaraderie would spare its life. But now, it seemed even if Chen Huangpi tried to save it, the Old Temple would devour all its avatars in the instant the Third Master emerged.

The avatars were part of the lamp; it, too, would perish.

Chen Huangpi, understanding the gravity of the situation, collected himself and hurried to search for the Scripture Pavilion. Yet the Old Temple was now utterly transformed. Blue mist billowed from the earth, obscuring everything beyond five steps, and ten steps away was nothing but an endless blue haze.

The Pavilion was nowhere to be found.

"Huang Er, your eyesight is sharper than mine—can you see anything?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing." The brass oil lamp was anxious. "The blue mist belongs to the Third Master. I couldn't see through the Second Master's white mist, let alone this blue mist. My light cannot penetrate it either."

Hearing this, Chen Huangpi seemed to recall something. He quickly turned his gaze upward. Above was blue mist, but moments ago he had fallen from about two steps above onto the stone below. That was the gate's location.

As many entrances as there were to the Old Temple, so too were there exits. But now, everything floated in the sky, their positions scrambled. Everywhere, blue mist blocked his view; finding another exit would be exceedingly difficult.

With this in mind, Chen Huangpi reached upward.

He froze.

The brass oil lamp asked nervously, "Did you find the gate?"

Chen Huangpi nodded and shook his head, his face pale as death.

He hadn't touched the gate—but a cold, rigid hand, the hand of a corpse, seized his wrist and held him fast.