Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1463 - 792: First Signs Emerge

As midday drew near, the crowd of devotees at the Ten Kings Temple began to thin out steadily.

Zhao Sheng slipped through a side entrance into the rear garden, where he noticed a young Taoist novice tidying up the grounds, and he strolled up without haste.

"Little monk, I would like to see Qin Temple Priest. Do you know if he is here?"

The young Taoist glanced up at the courteous Zhao Sheng, warming to him right away, then gripped his broom close and replied gently, "Our temple priest is hosting visitors in the Quiet Hall. If the Young Master isn't pressed for time, maybe you could return tomorrow."

A spark lit in Zhao Sheng's eyes as he grinned, "No trouble at all, my intentions are earnest, so please lead me to the Quiet Hall. I'll just wait nearby."

With those words, he pulled a chunk of silver from his robe sleeve and pressed it into the young Taoist's palm.

The young Taoist's cheeks flushed red with unease, clutching the silver fragment firmly in his right fist, his face showing clear alarm and uncertainty.

Yet moments later, he let the broom drop, stepped aside, and gestured welcomingly: "Young Master, this way, please."

Led by the young Taoist, they crossed another garden area and entered a simple, unassuming courtyard.

This modest enclosure spanned barely more than twenty paces across, featuring clusters of lush bamboo in the southwest corner that lent it a subtle air of refinement.

Right then, two figures in dark patrol attire stood watch at the entrance.

Spotting the stranger drawing near, a swarthy guard moved to block his path at once, declaring in a low rumble, "Young Master, turn back now. Qin Temple Priest isn't meeting with outsiders today."

A ripple of unease stirred within Zhao Sheng, prompting him to inquire, "Truth be told, my household has long shared a close bond with Mr. Chen. Might Old Madam Chen be the one inside the Quiet Hall?"

"You are..." Surprise and suspicion flickered across the swarthy guard's features.

Zhao Sheng offered a warm smile, "I'm Zhao Sheng, from the family that owns three grain and oil stores in the town—we frequently deliver supplies to the River Patrol Camp."

Understanding dawned, and the swarthy guard's face softened with a faint grin, "Ah, so you're the son of Landlord Zhao. Our folks have strong connections to Landlord Zhao, so you're hardly a stranger here."

"Mr. Zhao, forgive the rudeness. Qin Temple Priest is tending to my Old Madam right now, and I can't say when it'll wrap up. Why not try again tomorrow?" The swarthy guard phrased it politely, but an edge of insistence to depart lingered beneath.

At that instant, hurried footsteps echoed from beyond the yard. Without pause, a gaunt, sickly old fellow dressed in coarse hemp robes burst through the doorway, ignoring everything in his path.

The sight ignited fury in the swarthy guard, who bellowed sharply, "Hey, old timer, stop right there!"

As he yelled, the swarthy guard charged ahead with menace, extending a hand to push the hemp-robed elder aside.

In the blink of an eye, the elder in hemp let out a dry laugh, showing no visible action, but the guard crumpled to the earth before his grasp could connect.

A nearer look revealed the swarthy guard's stare gone vacant, with froth bubbling from the corners of his lips.

Zhao Sheng's grin vanished, his face steady and calm as he fixed his eyes on the hemp-robed elder, particularly noting the man's hands.

The elder in hemp chuckled again, his gaze accidentally shifting to Zhao Sheng's brow.

Instantly, the same thought flashed through both their minds: "Another one!"

The remaining patrol soldier, alarmed by his comrade's abrupt collapse, rushed over, shaking him desperately and shouting his name.

The swarthy guard lay senseless, deaf to his partner's frantic cries.

All the while, the hemp-robed elder remained rooted in place, his face growing intensely somber, his skinny fingers quivering faintly, poised as if to deliver a devastating blow in the next heartbeat.

"Resorting to poison? Mere child's play!" Zhao Sheng scoffed abruptly, his stare brimming with disdain.

"Hehe, if it gets the job done, even a petty trick like poison works just fine." The hemp-robed elder shot back with a wicked smirk, utterly unshaken.

"For killing, you need a proper blade!"

The phrase barely escaped his lips when a gleaming Willow Leaf Saber materialized in Zhao Sheng's grip, its edge razor-keen and radiating a chilling menace.

The elder's mirth cut off short; he crossed his arms defensively, his ten fingertips slowly darkening to black.

Creek!

In this tense deadlock, the Quiet Hall's door swung open abruptly, breaking the confrontation between the pair.

Moments later, a fragile, silver-haired woman emerged at the threshold, flanked by a slender elder clad in somber Daoist robes.

Zhao Sheng observed their arrival, and with a quick twist of his wrist, the Willow Leaf Saber vanished from sight.

The hemp-robed elder, catching sight of the woman, recoiled like facing a mortal foe, spinning on his heel and fleeing through the exit without a sound.

This display heightened Zhao Sheng's wariness.

The slender Daoist elder, noting the swarthy guard sprawled on the ground, creased his forehead in mild concern.

He advanced swiftly, drawing a small white vial from his sleeve, tipping out a bean-sized elixir, and slipping it between the guard's lips, aiding him to grind and ingest it.

Before long, the swarthy guard let out a moan and slowly came to his senses.

With that settled, Old Madam Chen tottered forward until she stood mere steps from Zhao Sheng, regarding him with gentle warmth.

"Young man, pay respects to Old Madam Chen," Zhao Sheng uttered, yet offered no bow or salute.

Ignoring his discourtesy, the elderly woman only seemed kinder still, "I recall you well—you're that boy from the Chen household. Three years back, at my birthday feast, you arrived alongside your father to give greetings."

Zhao Sheng arched a brow, staying neutral, "Old Madam's recall is sharp indeed. Looks like you've got some good years left."

"My longevity comes from King Yan's grace! Dropping by King Yan more frequently can only bring benefits," the old woman answered.

As she spoke, heedless of Zhao Sheng's reaction, she wobbled her way toward the courtyard's edge.

At the same time, the swarthy guard, rising unsteadily, spotted the woman departing and, leaning on his fellow soldier, limped out after her at a slow pace.