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 departing through the courtyard entrance, yet he held back from striking.

Time remained firmly in his favor; "today" represented only their initial meeting, so risking an assault proved unnecessary.

Just then, the solemn-faced elderly Taoist approached.

Spotting him, Zhao Sheng cupped his hands in a respectful bow. "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 draws you here today? If it's nothing urgent, our temple grows weary—kindly take your leave."

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

Observing this, Zhao Sheng cut straight to the point. "I carry some questions needing the Qin Temple Priest's wisdom. Should they be cleared up, come tomorrow night, I'll dispatch someone bearing 300 taels of incense money."

The mention of 300 taels of silver swiftly shifted the Qin Temple Priest's demeanor; he now welcomed Young Master Zhao warmly into the Quiet Hall for their talk.

Trailing the man, Zhao Sheng entered the Quiet Hall, where both took their seats.

The Qin Temple Priest himself served a cup of tea, setting it before Zhao Sheng with a grin. "What puzzles trouble Young Master Zhao? This old Taoist will do his utmost to lead you out of the fog."

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

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

Thoughts whirling, Zhao Sheng pretended simple interest and probed, "How so? Has anyone else posed such queries before?"

The Qin Temple Priest flicked his long sleeve, paused in thought, then replied, "Yes! Counting you, three souls have come today with almost the exact same inquiry."

"Oh? Besides Old Madam Chen, who was the other seeker?" Zhao Sheng felt a jolt but masked it with feigned eagerness as he delved deeper.

The Qin Temple Priest eyed him with intent and intoned gravely, "Beyond you and Old Madam Chen, a youthful scholar appeared. He presented himself as a roaming wanderer and graced the Ten Thousand Temple this morning. He led the pack in asking."

At those words, Zhao Sheng promptly remembered crossing paths with that young scholar on his way in.

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

Wasting no more words, 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 clinging to lone lineages, teetering on the brink of vanishing. Though this old Taoist frets in silence, heaven's path unfolds unyieldingly, defying mortal hands... Sigh!" The Qin Temple Priest's face grew somber, his voice laced with resignation.

In that instant, Zhao Sheng's spirit stirred; he'd deemed the local annals thorough, yet unforeseen depths lurked in the Ten Thousand Temple's lore.

The Ten Thousand Temple's rise stemmed from a cataclysmic deluge unlike any before.

Thirteen centuries past, back when Mingxi Town bore the name Ming River Town, a sudden torrent burst forth, savage floods shattered dikes, engulfed Ming River Town, and drowned a thousand li of rich soil beneath endless waves.

The deluge surged wildly, the waterway twisting paths often, endlessly gouging deep channels.

As waters withdrew, a fresh waterway surfaced near Ming River Town, unveiling a nameless burial site.

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

Breaching the sarcophagus revealed several faded scrolls within, chronicling the "tales" of the Ten Halls of Yama and the Cycle of Hell's Rebirth—the very seeds of the Ten Thousand Temple.

Back then, just three souls unearthed this nameless tomb: the forebears of the Qin, Chen, and Li houses.

The Qin, Chen, and Li patriarchs split the tomb's treasures, reaping a boon, then pooled resources to raise the Ten Kings Temple.

From that point, the priesthood cycled through the three bloodlines, a tradition unbroken even now.

The Qin Temple Priest hailed from the Qin line, while his predecessor, of the Li surname, had departed this world ages ago.

Having absorbed the account, Zhao Sheng mulled it over briefly, then struck by insight, he drew forth the White Jade Cup and set it upon the table.

"Could this... hail from that nameless tomb?"

Oh?

The Qin Temple Priest murmured in wonder and swiftly lifted the White Jade Cup for close scrutiny.

After poring over the "script motifs" etched on its face time and again, he nodded firmly, face a tangle of emotions as he declared, "This vessel, also called the Bright Moon Reflected Lamp, stands among those relics indeed. Three centuries back, an elder of my kin pawned it off, and its trail went cold thereafter. Who'd have thought I'd behold this lamp once more today."

With that confirmation, Zhao Sheng grew certain the nameless tomb held the thread to the enigma.

Seized by the idea, he pressed urgently for the tomb's whereabouts.

The Qin Temple Priest answered plainly, naming a spot while stressing that the site had long eroded into barren soil, rendering a journey pointless.

Zhao Sheng inclined his head with a faint smile, offering no dispute; as he prepared to depart, an odd tremor gripped his core.

"Might the temple priest possess any akin ancient relics? I'm ready to offer a generous sum to acquire them."

The Qin Temple Priest shook his head with a weary exhale. "None remain. The heirs proved wayward; across a millennium, the clan's hoard of relics scattered through pawns or mishaps—now, not one endures."

Zhao Sheng acknowledged with a nod, unperturbed, and inquired, "In that case... does the temple priest decipher the script along the cup's rim?"

"These archaic glyphs prove too arcane and baffling; in this era, scarce few can unravel them. If any soul alive grasps them, it's likely the old scholar."

"Who might this old scholar be? Where does he dwell presently? I'd seek him out." Sensing opportunity, Zhao Sheng chased the lead at once.

Suspecting no guile, the Qin Temple Priest revealed, "The old scholar once tended shop at Weng Pavilion; ask there, and details will surface."

Weng Pavilion served as the town's bookshop, well-known to Zhao Sheng, though he'd never crossed the old shopkeeper's path.

He did recall the old shopkeeper's line bore the Chen name—could it tie to the "Chen" among the three houses?

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

Mindful of the promised silver, the Qin Temple Priest shared freely, sketching a handful of tales in brief.

Among the Qin, Chen, and Li names, beyond rotating the priesthood, the rest of each house pursued distinct callings.

Qin bearers often turned to trade, amassing fortunes and sway across eras, with the lion's share claiming the temple's helm.

The Chen kin boasted legacies in letters and arts, their ranks brimming with literary and pictorial masters, yielding countless luminaries in scholarship and brushwork over the years.

The Li house shone in divination, its members doubling as seers or geomancers; the elite rose to Life Masters, divining destinies at a glance and fortunes in a phrase, infallible every time.

"Then, the assorted Hell Creatures Paintings adorning the Ten Thousand Hall must stem from a Chen hand. Where might that artist dwell now? I harbor a passion for letters and arts and wish to call upon them."

As the sentence escaped, Zhao Sheng felt a brief haze, realizing he'd voiced near-identical sentiments earlier.

The Qin Temple Priest sighed, shaking his head. "Alas, you've arrived too late. That soul perished three or four years past. Now, a lone grandson lingers in the line, and without the temple's steady aid, even that last spark might have flickered out."

Perhaps mirroring his own plight, the Qin Temple Priest's look turned melancholic, his zeal for talk fading.

Noting the shift, Zhao Sheng took his leave directly, reaffirming the delivery of three hundred taels of fine silver on the morrow.

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

He guided Zhao Sheng to the temple's threshold himself, lingering until the figure vanished from sight before turning back within.

That very night, calamity struck the Qin Temple Priest without warning, the assailant vanishing in haste, soon rousing the authorities.

This tale unfolds later and merits no further dwelling 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 paid the shadows no heed, provided they held off from assault; proximity alone posed no threat.

Before long, Zhao Sheng strolled the town's bustling thoroughfare en route to Weng Pavilion.

"Heard the latest? They've nabbed the fire-starter. Word is, a woodcutter did it. He slipped in to torch the woodshed amid firewood deliveries. Fleeing the scene, ill fortune led him straight into Chief Liu's grasp—that's how they pinned him."

"The fool had guts, igniting the Inspection Mansion; clearly courting death. Mark my words, he won't endure past three days in the Water Prison before the end."

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

"Hmph, tales say a prefecture hero tangled with Inspector Chen over a decade back. That warrior held out six days solid in the Water Prison till he broke. When they hauled him forth, his lower frame was mere skeleton; the leech-fish had stripped every scrap of meat."

Overhearing the murmured street chatter, Zhao Sheng eased his pace, only then grasping that the blaze traced to a woodcutter's hand.

The woodcutter fell captive unharmed; likely, the true culprit ranked among the "Immortal Ruins Guests" as well.

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

Zhao Sheng had encountered Chief Liu "yesterday," so he knew beyond doubt the man wasn't an "Immortal Ruins Guest."