Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1464 - 792: First Glimpses of the Truth (Part 2)

Zhao Sheng's gaze sparkled as he observed the figure stepping through the courtyard entrance, holding back from any sudden strike.

Time remained his ally, with "today" marking only their initial clash, so risking an assault proved unwise.

Right then, the solemn-faced old Taoist approached.

Spotting him, Zhao Sheng quickly cupped his hands in greeting, "This junior Zhao Gongzhu pays respects to the Qin Temple Priest."

"Ah, so you're the Young Master from Landlord Zhao's household. What pressing business brings you here today? If it's nothing urgent, our temple grows weary—please depart at your leisure."

The old Taoist's voice carried a cool detachment, radiating an aura that warded off closeness.

Noticing this, Zhao Sheng cut straight to the point, "I harbor some questions needing the Qin Temple Priest's wisdom. Should you clarify them for me, I'll dispatch a messenger tomorrow night bearing 300 taels of incense money."

The mention of 300 taels of silver instantly softened the Qin Temple Priest's demeanor, as he warmly ushered Mr. Zhao into the Quiet Hall for a talk.

Trailing the man into the Quiet Hall, Zhao Sheng settled down opposite him.

The Qin Temple Priest himself brewed a cup of tea and set it before Zhao Sheng, grinning as he inquired, "What puzzles trouble Mr. Zhao? This old Taoist will do his utmost to illuminate the path for you."

Zhao Sheng smiled in return, "I'm deeply intrigued by the Ten Thousand Temple's beginnings. Perhaps the priest could recount it from the start, and we'll converse at ease."

To his surprise, the Qin Temple Priest's eyes betrayed a flicker of astonishment at these words, which Zhao Sheng caught right away.

Thoughts whirling, Zhao Sheng pretended mere interest and probed, "Why so? Have others posed the same sort of query before?"

The Qin Temple Priest flicked his long sleeve, mulled it over, then replied, "Quite right! Counting you, three individuals have raised almost identical inquiries today."

"Oh? Besides Old Madam Chen, who was the other one?" Zhao Sheng felt a jolt but masked it with feigned curiosity as he pressed on.

The Qin Temple Priest eyed him pointedly and intoned gravely, "Beyond you and Old Madam Chen, a young scholar appeared. He presented himself as a roaming wanderer and stopped by the Ten Thousand Temple this morning. He was the first to ask."

These words sparked a memory in Zhao Sheng of crossing paths with that young scholar upon arrival.

A notion flashing through his mind, Zhao Sheng chuckled offhandedly, "What a twist of fate. But pay it no heed. Carry on, if you please."

Without more delay, the Qin Temple Priest launched into the tale of the Ten Thousand Temple's founding...

"...Even now, the lineages of those three families dwindle, each generation handing down isolated legacies, teetering on the brink of oblivion. Though this old Taoist frets in silence, heaven's will unfolds thus, defying mortal meddling... Sigh!" The Qin Temple Priest's face grew somber, his voice laced with resignation.

In that instant, Zhao Sheng's thoughts churned; he'd figured the local annals covered it all, yet deeper mysteries lurked behind the Ten Thousand Temple.

The Ten Thousand Temple's origins traced back to a catastrophic deluge unlike any before.

Some thirteen centuries past, when Mingxi Town bore the name Ming River Town, a sudden torrent burst forth without warning, shattering dikes with savage force, drowning Ming River Town, and transforming a thousand li of rich soil into an endless sea.

The deluge surged wildly, the waterway shifting paths repeatedly, gouging deep gullies without cease.

As the waters finally ebbed, a fresh riverbed surfaced near Ming River Town, unearthing a nameless grave.

That burial site held countless relics, its walls etched with strange, haunting motifs.

Breaching the sarcophagus revealed several weathered scrolls within, chronicling the "tales" of the Ten Halls of Yama and the cycle of Hell Reincarnation—the very seed of the Ten Thousand Temple.

Back then, just three souls stumbled upon this nameless tomb: the forebears of the Qin, Chen, and Li lines.

The progenitors of the Qin, Chen, and Li houses split the tomb's treasures, reaping a bountiful haul, then pooled resources to raise the Ten Kings Temple.

From that point onward, the priesthood cycled among descendants of those three surnames, a tradition enduring unbroken.

The Qin Temple Priest hailed from the Qin line, while his predecessor, of the Li surname, had perished years earlier.

Absorbing this, Zhao Sheng reflected briefly, then a spark ignited; he promptly drew forth the White Jade Cup and set it on the table.

"Might I ask... if this object hails from that nameless tomb?"

Oh?

The Qin Temple Priest let out a soft murmur and swiftly lifted the White Jade Cup for close scrutiny.

After scrutinizing the "script motifs" etched on its surface time and again, he nodded firmly, his face a mix of emotions as he declared, "This vessel, also called the Bright Moon Reflected Lamp, is truly among those relics. Three centuries back, an ancestor of mine pawned it off, and its trail vanished thereafter. Who would have thought I'd behold this lamp once more today."

This revelation convinced Zhao Sheng that the nameless tomb held the clue to cracking the enigma.

Seized by the idea, he eagerly sought the tomb's whereabouts.

The Qin Temple Priest answered plainly, naming a spot and stressing that it had long eroded into a mere hillock, rendering a visit pointless.

Zhao Sheng nodded with a faint smile, offering no counter, but as he prepared to take leave, an odd intuition tugged at him.

"Does the temple priest possess any other such ancient relics? I'm prepared to offer a generous sum to acquire them."

The Qin Temple Priest shook his head with a sigh, "None remain. The heirs proved unworthy; across a millennium, the clan's hoard of relics was either sold off or squandered—now not a piece survives."

Zhao Sheng acknowledged with a nod, then queried, "In that case... can the temple priest decipher the inscriptions on the cup's side?"

"These archaic symbols are profoundly cryptic and hard to grasp; in this era, scarcely anyone can unravel them. If a soul exists who might, it's likely the old scholar."

"Who might this old scholar be? Where does he dwell now? I'd like to seek him out." Sensing opportunity, Zhao Sheng followed up at once.

Suspecting no foul play, the Qin Temple Priest replied, "The old scholar serves as the veteran keeper of Weng Pavilion; just ask there, and you'll learn."

Weng Pavilion stood as the town's bookshop, well-known to Zhao Sheng, though he'd never encountered its elderly proprietor.

He did recall the old shopkeeper bore the Chen surname—could he tie into the "Chen" of those three houses?

Suddenly captivated by the Qin, Chen, and Li lineages, Zhao Sheng artfully inquired after their "legends."

Mindful of the promised silver, the Qin Temple Priest shared willingly, sketching a handful of tales.

Among the Qin, Chen, and Li names, beyond rotating the priesthood, other kin pursued distinct callings.

Those surnamed Qin typically turned to trade, amassing fortunes and sway across ages, with the most holding temple posts.

The Chen kin boasted a heritage of learning and arts, their ranks brimming with literary and pictorial masters, yielding countless luminaries in scholarship and brushwork through the eras.

The Li house excelled in divination, its members acting as seers or geomancers; the finest rose to Life Masters, divining destinies at a glance and fortunes in a phrase, infallible in their craft.

"Then, the assorted Hell Creatures Paintings in the Ten Thousand Hall must stem from a Chen family hand. Where might that artist be nowadays? I hold a passion for letters and art and wish to call upon them."

As the sentence escaped him, Zhao Sheng felt a fleeting haze, realizing he'd voiced something akin before.

The Qin Temple Priest sighed and wagged his head, "Alas, you're too late by years. That soul perished three or four ago. Now only a grandson lingers in the line, and without the temple's steady aid, even he might not have endured."

Seeming to echo his own woes, the Qin Temple Priest's look turned melancholic, his zeal for talk fading.

Perceiving this, Zhao Sheng promptly took his leave, reaffirming the delivery of three hundred taels of fine silver come morn.

At this, the Qin Temple Priest's gloom lifted, a radiant grin lighting his features.

He saw Zhao Sheng to the temple's threshold himself, gazing until the figure faded from sight before withdrawing.

That very night, misfortune struck the Qin Temple Priest without warning, the assailant vanishing like the wind, soon rousing official notice.

This tale awaits another telling and shan't be dwelt upon here.

…

An hour on, Zhao Sheng glided back to Mingxi Town via a shaded skiff, trailed by another vessel some ten yards astern, ever in loose pursuit.

Zhao Sheng ignored his shadows, unconcerned so long as they held off from striking; their nearness posed no threat.

Before long, Zhao Sheng strolled the town's bustling thoroughfare toward Weng Pavilion.

"Heard the news? They've nabbed the fire-starter. Word is, a firewood gatherer did it. He slipped in to torch the woodshed during a delivery. Fleeing, he bumped straight into Chief Liu—pure rotten luck, and down he went."

"That fool had some nerve, torching the Inspection Mansion; clearly courting death. Mark my words, he won't see three days out before the Water Prison claims him."

"Heh, all know the Inspection Bureau's Water Prison swallows souls whole, none emerging alive. Even the hardiest crack after seven days."

"Hmph, recall that prefecture hero snared by Inspector Chen over a decade back? He endured six days solid in the Water Prison till he broke. Dragged out, his lower half was just bones; the leech-fish had stripped every scrap of meat."

Overhearing the murmurs from passersby, Zhao Sheng eased his pace, then grasping that the blaze had indeed sprung from a woodcutter's hand.

The woodcutter fell alive; likely the true culprit ranked among the "Immortal Ruins Guests."

Could it be... Chief Liu? No, not him—another altogether.

Having crossed Chief Liu "yesterday," Zhao Sheng knew full well he wasn't an "Immortal Ruins Guest."