Unintended Immortality

In Yizhou's Qingcheng Mountain, within Fuqing Temple, a group of Daoists was performing the evening liturgy.

The evening service consisted of burning incense to honor their ancestors, offering reverence to the deities, and reciting scripture. In smaller temples, such a service might simply involve reading aloud, but for a major temple like Fuqing, the recitation was set to music.

To achieve the proper solemnity, the recitations followed a melody, each note requiring focus and clarity, accompanied by a dedicated ensemble with instruments like drums, bells, cymbals, and hand chimes, creating a resonant, ritualistic harmony.

The Fuqing Temple had grown more renowned in Qingcheng Mountain over the years, recently expanding and recruiting several young Daoist attendants from the nearby town. By now, elder Daoists led younger initiates in the evening ceremonies. The two Daoist priests, Yingfeng and Chuyun, had matured a lot over the years and gained considerable experience; they had even begun taking on disciples.

The temple filled with the soothing resonance of the liturgical chant, and the music drifted up the mountainside. Yet amidst the melody, a faint cracking sound went almost unnoticed.

Many of the younger apprentices didn’t detect anything unusual, continuing to chant along with the music. Only those with keen senses or cultivated skill perceived it, their gazes lifting to the altar.

A soft, sharp sound of cracking.

On the left side of the altar, a statue of the Thunder Division’s chief officer suddenly revealed a large fissure across its surface, which deepened rapidly into a second, then a third crack, widening before their eyes.

Finally, with a loud crash, a large section of the statue—running from its right shoulder to its left side—broke off entirely and fell heavily onto the altar.

The fallen fragment shattered further upon impact. The remaining parts of the statue continued to crack and fall apart.

The middle-aged Daoists stood stunned, frozen in place.

One by one, others noticed as well, their chanting fading to a murmur, the accompanying music growing sparse. With the final chime from a small gong, the grand hall fell into near silence, and everyone’s gaze turned upward, fixed on the disintegrating statue of the Thunder Division’s chief officer, unsure of what had transpired.

After a brief pause, one of the Daoists instructed an apprentice to inform the temple master, while he began to offer incense, sending a prayer to the deities, hoping for guidance.

“Master! Master…

“Something terrible has happened…

“It’s a disaster...”

The young Daoist attendant, visibly flustered, hurried through the temple’s various courtyards. His alarmed voice was echoing around the grounds, startling any staying guests in the temple.

***

At the Hidden Dragon Temple in Yin-Yang Mountain, Lingquan County…

The Thunder Division’s deity statue stood in the main hall, though long untouched, devoid of incense and offerings.

It wasn’t only the Thunder Division’s statue; nearly all the altars before the temple’s deities were bare, without incense or candles, as if the temple hadn’t opened its doors in ages.

In front of the temple, a figure lay reclined on a wooden lounge chair, wearing loose robes, her hair already streaked with gray. She seemed at once to be savoring the quiet of the moment and lost in reverie of days gone by.

“Crack...”

“Thud...”

The statue behind her fractured and tumbled to the ground. Yet the woman on the lounge chair did not even turn his head.

“Flap, flap...”

A pure black mynah bird fluttered over, landing atop the left side of the chair’s backrest. It glanced back at the altar, then looked down at the old Daoist.

“The statue’s broken,” it said in a voice as refined as that of a courteous gentleman.

“Mm...”

The response was aged and lazy, carrying a quiet acceptance of life and the world.

The mynah fell silent.

***

In Changjing City, news spread quickly that a visitor entered the Stargazing Tower, seeking an audience with the State Preceptor by night.

Upon hearing the news, the State Preceptor narrowed his eyes, calculating with his fingers, his expression growing increasingly grave with each passing moment.

A demon snuck into Hexian Pavilion to deliver news.

The great demon who’d kept a close watch on the north listened, laughing first that the Thunder Division’s chief officer had long been due for this fate, and then chuckling that while only a few northern demon kings had perished, it was the unworthy gods who suffered first.

Yet once the reporting demon left, and he was left with just his own tail as company, he murmured a few reflections with himself, sighing in both admiration and concern.

Others took note of the news in silence, planning to share it with an emperor who adored tales of gods and immortals come morning.

The common folk, however, cared little for such matters. So late at night, few remained in temples to burn incense, but those who did, and those who happened to hear, couldn’t help feeling a pang of alarm.

***

Across the lands from north to south, along the Yangtze River and all within the four seas, anywhere with a Chief Officer of the Thunder Division statue endowed with spirit, it shattered in turn.

Countless Daoists and worshipers were thrown into shock.

***

In Jingyu County of Hezhou, night had fully settled. The streets were long empty.

The Daoist, robes still pristine, strolled at a steady pace, as if the events of earlier had never occurred. Following him was a swordsman with a sword in hand and a calico cat padding along, paws clicking softly on the stone path.

The calico darted back and forth, sniffing curiously at everything along the way.

“Today, the heavens have lost a Thunder God.”

As for the Daoists of the Xuanlei Temple, both high-ranking and low, they were all handed over to Magistrate Liu the commandery magistrate and the city constables.

Though Song You's interactions with Magistrate Liu had been limited, he believed that while Magistrate Liu might not be extraordinarily skilled, he was certainly capable. The advisor might not have been considered a top strategist, but he possessed some intelligence and was bold enough to offer his counsel.

Governor Liu, for his part, was willing to listen. Combined, they made Magistrate Liu someone Song You could trust. If not for this combination, Magistrate Liu would not have been able to govern Pu Commandery effectively.

The crimes of Daoist Master Yongyang and the elder Daoists of Xuanlei Temple were unclear in their entirety to Song You. Yet, the heinous act of creating human puppets from live captives alone was deserving of death.

Ending their lives swiftly would have been simple, an end to it all. But handing them over to the government for judgment would undoubtedly be more fitting.

Since Magistrate Liu had assured him of sufficient evidence, a willingness to pursue justice, and the fact that he had authority over Jingyu and Pu Commandery, Song You sealed the cultivation skills and spells of the Xuanlei Temple Daoists with winter's dormant spiritual energy, delivering them bound to Magistrate Liu and the local county officials.

Daoist Master Yongyang and his accomplices may have been beyond the officials' ability to handle while wielding powers, but powerless, they could certainly be held to account. Explaining to the townsfolk, restoring public order in Jingyu, sorting evidence, judging the criminals, and parsing out the relative guilt of each Daoist was Magistrate Liu’s responsibility and capability.

In any case, offering an explanation is always better than not explaining at all. One way or another, the crimes need to be distinguished. It couldn’t exactly be called handing him political achievements; it was simply the way things should be.

Unless the local authorities were negligent, indifferent, or incapable, or unless they accidentally killed all the demonic cultivators, whoever held the position of commandery or county magistrate would most likely hand these Daoists over to the authorities.

By now, they were nearly back at the inn.

“Sir...” The swordsman, unable to quiet his concern, finally spoke up.

“Don’t worry.” Song You turned to glance at him, already understanding his thoughts, and replied with a composed smile, “Have you ever heard of a mortal who slew a deity and was punished by the Heavenly Palace?”

“I’ve heard many such stories...”

“They’re nothing more than rumors.”

The swordsman paused, then said quietly, “I was too incompetent. I wasn’t able to aid you more, sir.”

“How can you say that?” Song You shook his head, smiling as they walked. “Each person has their own strengths. You’ve already helped immensely. Besides, ever since we entered Hezhou, your Sword Dao has advanced rapidly. I’d say you’re only a hair’s breadth away from attaining enlightenment through martial arts.

“If you worked hard to comprehend it, crossing that final barrier could elevate you beyond the ordinary. If you could truly integrate the power of Divine Thunder into the Sword Dao…

“Although I do not understand Sword Dao nor know what the sword momentum or Sword Dao would become after you attain enlightenment through martial arts, I imagine that with the power of Divine Thunder, whether facing demons, deities, or those iron giants several zhang tall, you can extinguish their spirit and break all forms of magic with a single strike.”

“I understand,” the swordsman replied solemnly.

Though a seasoned warrior at the peak of his craft, skilled enough to roam the jianghu with his head held high, even he found himself limited when facing formidable beings like great demons or divine officials from the Heavenly Palace. He was still a martial artist, after all. Even today, when facing those metal-bound guardian statues one zhang tall, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of helplessness.

Now, all he could do was step forward and knock on the inn’s door.

The attendant inside was clearly terrified, repeatedly asking who was there. Given the wild stories likely circulating, even upon recognizing the swordsman’s voice, he hesitated, fearing it could be a trick of some demon or ghost.

He even went so far as to invoke the commandery magistrate’s name, hoping it would drive away any demons.

Song You found this reaction rather amusing.

In stories, it was often said that certain officials or generals carried such a renowned name that even their reputation alone could drive away demons and spirits. But aside from Chen Ziyi, this was Song You’s first time seeing a government official’s name being used to ward off evil.

Knowing that this figure had once been his acquaintance back in Yidu made it all the more amusing.

Finally, after the swordsman recounted what they’d eaten for breakfast, the dishes served during the magistrate’s banquet last night, and mentioned their visit to the Daoist Master Yongyang at the Xuanlei Temple outside the city, the attendant cracked open the door, peering cautiously out.

“See? I wasn’t lying,” the swordsman said. The swordsman held up the official’s residence’s lantern, raising it to about the height of his face to illuminate it for him.

“Hurry and open up now; no need to keep us waiting.”

“Creak...” The inn door opened fully at last.

“My apologies,” the attendant said hastily. “We’ve had demons and ghosts tricking people into opening doors at night, leading to tragic outcomes. Things have improved since Magistrate Liu arrived, but we still avoid venturing out after dark. No one willingly goes out and returns so late or visits anyone’s home at night, and naturally, we don’t open the door for anyone easily.”

He added, “Knowing that the two of you had not returned tonight and that you are esteemed guests of the governor was the only reason I dared to summon the courage to come down and inquire. Otherwise, even if you’d broken down the door, I wouldn’t have taken a single step out of my room.”

“I bet you’d have been tucked under your blankets!” The swordsman chuckled, stepping inside as he spoke.

“Absolutely,” the attendant agreed, holding the oil lamp and turning to illuminate the path for them.

The swordsman, holding his lantern high, followed behind. He then extended it forward to better light the way for the man in front.

The wooden stairs creaked with a steady “thunk thunk” underfoot. The calico cat, half-walking, half-climbing, looked rather comical.

“Thank you,” Song You nodded in appreciation, heading back to his room.

The oil lamp’s warm glow filled the entire room.

The calico cat didn’t seem to mind much, wobbling as she walked in. She bent slightly, then leapt onto the table and poked her head toward the direction of the Xuanlei Temple. It was as though her gaze could pierce through walls, and she was seemingly still preoccupied with today’s events.

“Apologies for putting you through all that, Lady Calico,” Song You murmured, sitting by the table, gently stroking her back. “I didn’t expect you’d have to follow me into battle...”

“Hmm?” The calico cat gave him a puzzled look, pausing in thought before replying cheerily, “It was just a fight, that’s all.”

“Oh, really?”

“Cats are meant to do that. I’ve seen many cats fight with dogs, even seen them killed,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“I see.” Song You continued to stroke her gently.

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