Chapter 342: The End (1)
Although Yan Shixun had already solved the biggest issue for Zhang Wubing—restoring the flow of life energy within his body—Zhang Wubing was still a living human who had been affected by ghostly energy for too long. On top of that, he had descended into the old Fengdu and endured trials between Heaven and Earth. So, it wasn’t possible for him to recover his health in just a short amount of time.
Fortunately, Zhang Wubing had long since become used to running into ghosts, so he didn’t react too strongly to any of it.
Before he met Yan Shixun at university, being hunted by ghosts to the brink of death had practically become routine. Only after clinging tightly to Yan Shixun’s leg did he finally begin living like a normal person.
—Back then, in order to keep Zhang Wubing alive, the Zhang family even plastered his clothes full of talismans. The safety amulets, golden Buddhas, and jade Guanyins he wore around his neck were literally weighed by the kilo.
Some people had even misunderstood it as the unique aesthetic of the wealthy and posted online to mock Zhang Wubing for quite some time.
Now, looking back, it felt almost like a strange kind of nostalgic “bitter-sweet memory.”
“Brother Yan, you have no idea. Back then, every night after school, my dad would wait at the school gate, leaning on the iron bars just to be the first to see me and hand me a fresh stack of talismans.”
Zhang Wubing’s voice was hoarse and weak, but as he spoke, he started laughing. “When I was a kid, no one wanted to play with me. Even if they ate my chocolates and snacks, they’d still call me a freak, a little monster…”
A whole apple was suddenly shoved into Zhang Wubing’s mouth. Yan Shixun rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Eat more, talk less.”
Zhang Wubing tried hard to stretch out his trembling hand—still hooked to an IV—and obediently held the apple, chomping away at it without another word.
Yan Shixun sat by the hospital bed, quietly watching him.
Since the day he met Zhang Wubing, he had never let this foolish kid get hurt so badly. Yet this silly guy just kept smiling like always. When he wasn’t passed out cold, he was beaming at him—almost as if he could sense his gloom and was trying to cheer him up.
Yan Shixun didn’t stay in Jiangbei for too long.
He handed over the matters of the Jiangbei village to the authorities and relevant special departments, giving the official in charge a detailed explanation of the massacre that had taken place more than a century ago.
With that thorough account—explaining the origin, process, and outcome—plus the background sins of the villagers over the past hundred years provided by the ghost official through Jing Xiaobao’s request, the official essentially had everything he needed. The level of detail was practically as if he had witnessed the crime scene himself.
Since many of the show guests had been injured and were thoroughly exhausted, and Zhang Wubing was still in such a weakened state, Yan Shixun left immediately after handing things over and boarded a flight back to Binhai City.
But before leaving, he specifically reminded the official to dig up the village grounds.
Among the villagers who had been killed by ghostly vengeance in the dead of night, many had blood on their hands. For example, the tire repairman who escaped had a house filled with mismatched used tires and spare parts—not like new purchases, but like they had been stripped from vehicles.
Yan Shixun believed that, in the process of extorting travelers, these villagers had been tempted by large sums of money or had faced resistance, leading some of them to kill the drivers. The bodies were likely buried somewhere in the village.
He had no intention of intervening any further, believing the matter should be handled by the official. Even if those murderous villagers were already dead, their crimes should still be judged and exposed. They should not be allowed to escape judgment.
Suffering in Hell after death wasn’t enough. The living world also needed to hold a fair trial to let everyone know exactly what these evil people had done.
Rather than just seeing the deaths and feeling pity for the dead, assuming that death wiped the slate clean.
The official was stunned by the number of deaths and the brutality of the events, but because it was Yan Shixun who said it, he didn’t question any of it. He immediately contacted local authorities and dispatched a specialized investigation team. Hundreds of personnel combed through the entire village, leaving even the neighboring villages unspared.
Following Yan Shixun’s clues, when the official dug behind the villagers’ houses, and opened the cellar beneath one kitchen, he was completely dumbfounded by the mass of white bones buried deep below.
Someone even threw up on the spot.
At this point, the number of dead could no longer be simply described as the work of a serial killer. Some people directly cursed them as beasts who had trampled on human life.
Though the nearby villages hadn’t been struck by ghostly vengeance at midnight, they were now facing a different kind of retribution—righteous law enforcement, digging up evidence and exposing years of hidden crimes.
With overwhelming proof, the villagers had no way to deny anything and were immediately taken away by the authorities.
The official stood in front of the now-ruined yizhuang, and could only let out a bitter laugh.
Where others couldn’t see, the ghost official quietly poked the official and whispered, “Don’t worry, sir. Our King of Hell already said—you’re one of us. If you ever need help, just ask me. I guarantee we’ll even dig up the dirt on this guy pulling girls’ braids when he was a kid.”
The official in charge thanked them repeatedly, but after a moment of reflection… being warmly referred to as “one of us” by a ghost—wasn’t that a little off?
He quickly gave up trying to make sense of it and submitted all the collected evidence to higher authorities. While handling the special incident, he kept a close eye on the developments, swearing to give justice to those who had died.
By the time Yan Shixun received a call from the official in charge updating him on the progress, he was already at a hospital in Binhai City.
After learning that Zhang Wubing had been injured, Father Zhang became so anxious that he postponed a multi-billion-dollar merger meeting and immediately flew to the village on a private jet, intending to bring everyone, including Zhang Wubing, back home.
Coincidentally, Song Ci’s older brother had also realized something was wrong due to Song Ci’s disappearance. He piloted a helicopter himself to find him and happened to run into Father Zhang.
Both sides wanted the guests to fly back on their own aircraft. In front of Yan Shixun, their competitive spirits were especially stirred, and neither would back down.
In the end, Song Ci punched his brother and scolded him, saying, “How many people can your tiny helicopter even carry? Just fly yourself back!”
Father Zhang beamed with pride while Song Ci’s brother ground his teeth in frustration, swearing he’d buy a bigger one—one that was a whole size larger than the Zhang family’s jet—once he got back!
The Zhang family’s team of more than a dozen secretaries was thorough and meticulous. They had a deep understanding of their child’s constitution and knew that if something had happened, it had to be serious. Especially this time—even Mr. Yan hadn’t been able to shield them completely, so it must have been an earth-shattering event, and there were likely injuries.
Thus, Zhang’s private jet came equipped with doctors and had already coordinated with the hospital in Binhai City well in advance.
As soon as the guests boarded the plane, a new round of medical checkups began. Upon landing, they were seamlessly transferred to the hospital. The Zhang family took full responsibility, ensuring they received the best treatment.
The show’s crew members also underwent examinations after returning, courtesy of the Zhang family, and received generous compensation before entering rehabilitation care at the hospital.
Although most people weren’t injured, the production team cheerfully declared it a paid vacation—a team-building retreat at the hospital.
The staff were overjoyed. With only light work to handle daily, they spent their time playing cards and games with the guests. The floor the show had reserved at the rehabilitation facility was constantly filled with laughter.
In this atmosphere, everyone’s mental state improved quickly, and they gradually returned to a normal routine.
Bai Shuang and the others had all sustained serious injuries. Though none were life-threatening, their physical wounds still caused them considerable suffering.
Especially Bai Shuang and An Nanyuan’s hands. The Zhang family assigned a dedicated secretary to monitor the guests’ health closely, determined to prevent any lasting damage.
Bai Shuang’s hand was wrapped up like a dumpling, but she shrugged it off, saying that as a singer—not a surgeon—it didn’t matter if her hand wasn’t as nimble as before.
An Nanyuan also patted his chest and said that scars made him look cooler anyway, and since he wasn’t a pianist, it wasn’t a big deal.
But the Zhang family’s secretary took their recovery more seriously than they did, conducting routine checkups three times a day, enforcing strict dietary rules, and forbidding any behavior that might hinder healing.
As a result, whenever the guests saw the secretary, they reacted like kids caught doing something wrong—playing hide-and-seek with her around the rehabilitation center.
Like a bunch of overgrown children, they’d burst into laughter whenever they successfully avoided her, feeling a sense of pride as if they’d pulled off something truly impressive.
For many of the guests, it was the purest, most carefree time they’d had since becoming adults—as if they’d gone back to childhood.
Although the trip to Jiangbei had been full of danger, there was one lucky stroke.
—The guests hadn’t gone live.
Having just returned from the Southwest, the guests had been so exhausted that they barely had the strength to lift their arms. Slumped and snoring in the vehicle, they were in no state to appear on a livestream, so they decided to wait until Binhai to check in with fans.
That decision, unexpectedly, saved the Public Relations Team from pulling out their hair.
When the official in charge learned the full scope of events, he let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God we didn’t stream the New World’s reboot live in front of everyone.”
The audience didn’t even know the show had gone to Jiangbei after leaving the Southwest.
—Even if someone told them the truth, they wouldn’t have believed it.
After all, just the fact that the guest van had made it from the Southwest to Jiangbei in only three hours would have made fans cry “unscientific!” and claim it was impossible.
Let alone the stuff involving the Great Dao and ghost deities—people would just dismiss it as some mad fantasy cooked up by someone unstable.
The PR team, meanwhile, was quite pleased. They felt *Heart-Pounding Journey of Ninety-Nine Days* had done a great job—everyone was starting to believe in science now.
When the production team later released an announcement, they merely stated that the guests had been too exhausted from long-distance travel to livestream right away. The team had taken their health into account, brought them to the hospital for checkups and rest, and then used the show’s official account to report that everyone was safe, promising to go live later.
Aside from a few skeptical and angry comments, most of the viewers were understanding and even left messages telling the guests to get plenty of rest.
So, after experiencing an incident that could shatter any ordinary person’s worldview, the production team naturally earned themselves some well-deserved downtime, happily recuperating in the rehab center.
Zhang Wubing’s scrapes and external injuries were also carefully treated by professional medical staff and quickly healed.
But his real problem wasn’t the physical wounds—it was the internal ones.
Zhang Wubing was merely a living person whose soul had reincarnated dozens of times, leaving him weak and unsuitable for areas steeped in ghostly energy—much less for carrying the manifestation of the King of Hell.
Even though the King of Hell had intended to protect this body from the very beginning, Zhang Wubing still went through a long period of weakness after waking up.
When the other guests could run and jump, he remained drowsy all day, with only a few dozen minutes of clarity before slipping back into sleep again.
No, “fainted” would be a more accurate term.
Although the vitality that Yan Shixun gave to Zhang Wubing helped his body recover quickly, the self-healing process would still take a long time. His physical condition required a large amount of sleep.
Even though everyone was worried, there was nothing they could do. Zhang’s parents came to visit every day and even wanted to move in and stay, but they could only watch anxiously.
Father Zhang secretly shed tears behind everyone’s back while holding Yan Shixun’s hand.
This man, who was known as an iron-handed giant in the business world, only showed such vulnerability and fragility when facing family and loved ones.
“My father gave Xiao Bing the name ‘Wubing’—meaning ‘without illness’—hoping that he would live a healthy and peaceful life. Our family never expected him to achieve anything great or possess any special abilities. As long as he could live, even if he just became like those rich second or third generations who waste money having fun, that would’ve been fine. But even that wish has never come true.”
Father Zhang’s eyes were red as he choked up and said, “When Xiao Bing was little, I used to arrive at the school gates extra early every day, just so I could be the first in line to pick him up. I could only feel at ease once I heard his heartbeat.”
“I was scared, really scared, that if I arrived a little late one day, I might never see my child again. If his mother hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve brought him home and built a temple just to protect him.”
“But this child… turned out far more capable than we ever expected.”
Tears rolled down Father Zhang’s cheeks as he smiled through them, blaming his son with words but full of pride: “When he started that show, I was angry. I wanted to force him to come home. But to think—he was just a newcomer, and yet he managed to build his career to this extent. I was both proud and worried, terrified something might happen to him out there.”
This was a father’s love and worry for his child that had built up over more than twenty years. Always stern and serious, Father Zhang couldn’t stop crying in front of Yan Shixun.
He had wealth beyond measure, but when it came to matters of the Great Dao and ghost deities, he was still small and helpless—completely at a loss for how to snatch his child back from death.
Yan Shixun listened in silence for a long time. Then, he handed a handkerchief to Father Zhang and said softly, “Uncle, Xiao Bing is far more remarkable than you imagine. He accomplished something so great that no one else could have done it. Although I can’t explain it to you clearly, please believe—he deserves every ounce of gratitude anyone gives him. Be proud of him, Uncle.”
“He saved countless lives. With such great merit, even the Great Dao itself won’t forget his name.”
“Having him is a blessing to heaven and earth, and a blessing to me.”
Yan Shixun spoke in a low voice: “Thank you.”
Father Zhang was stunned. He cried for a long time at the stairwell corner where no one could see.
He had never wanted his child to be a hero—he only wanted him to live an ordinary, stable life. But how could an eagle’s wings be bound?
Some people were born to shine.
Worried about Zhang Wubing, Yan Shixun hadn’t gone anywhere for a long time. Even his communications with the official in charge were all handled online.
It wasn’t until Zhang Wubing could finally walk on his own that Yan Shixun left the convalescent hospital for the first time.
His first destination was Haiyun Temple.
Back in the southwest, in order to protect the guests from the evil spirits fleeing the old Fengdu, Lu Xingxing had sacrificed his life.
Although he had barely clung to life at the time and managed to hold onto a single breath, the invasion of ghostly energy caused his body to rapidly deteriorate, leaving the Taoists helpless.
He was immediately rushed back to Haiyun Temple at top speed. The few Taoists stationed there quickly set up formations to maintain the balance of yin and yang within his body.
But what the Taoists could do was very limited.
At the time, it was Ye Li, the ghost deity who governed death, who had helped preserve Lu Xingxing’s final breath. While the ghost energy gave him the strength to hold on, it also damaged his meridians and severely depleted the yang energy in his body.
And if the Taoists used traditional methods—first expelling the evil and then setting up a formation to gather vitality—it would be equivalent to pulling out the very thread keeping him alive. It would’ve killed Lu Xingxing.
Not only did the senior Taoists at Haiyun Temple immediately diagnose and search for solutions, they also reached out to other sects, doing everything they could to save this young disciple.
Once those sects learned what Lu Xingxing had done in the southwest, they were all deeply moved and full of admiration. Many expressed that he truly lived up to Haiyun Temple’s name—such awareness and sacrifice in one who hadn’t even fully graduated.
While they respected Lu Xingxing, they also put their full effort into searching through their sects’ ancient texts and handwritten manuals for a solution. No one wanted to watch a young exorcist who had risked his life to save others just fade away.
There were also some who scoffed, saying Lu Xingxing had brought it on himself and deserved to die. They questioned why their sects should offer help or resources to save him.
Taoist Wang, who was fiercely protective of his disciples, happened to overhear these remarks. Furious, he immediately swung his peach wood sword at the offender.
“Why? Because he protected ordinary people. He did not disgrace his identity as a Haiyun Temple Taoist! Because he could have run, but he didn’t. He could have ignored others in danger, but instead, he gave up his life for them.”
He sneered: “Believe me, if one day you’re in the same situation, none of you will say such things to Xingxing—you’ll only beg him to sacrifice himself to save you. But you… you’re not even worthy of being saved by him.”
Those who had criticized Lu Xingxing were too afraid to say a word under Taoist Wang’s terrifying presence, even though they were still unconvinced.
The abbot of Haiyun Temple coldly watched the whole farce without saying a thing.
He had seen far too many people wailing for help one moment, only to turn ungrateful and critical after being saved. The alternation of gratitude and complaint was so common that he had grown numb. He no longer got hurt by it, nor did he bother to explain.
Even during the night when human-shaped statues had attacked people, and many citizens of Binhai City took refuge in Haiyun Temple, the next morning some sincerely thanked the Taoists, holding their hands and bowing with tears in their eyes. Others, however, complained that the blankets were too thin, the bedding too crowded, the food too simple.
No matter what kinds of sounds those people made, the abbot stood unwavering at the mountain gate, bowing to each one in farewell, wishing them all peace and safety.
Afterward, the abbot turned back and returned to Lu Xingxing’s room. With gentle care, he tucked in the unconscious Lu Xingxing’s blanket and sat beside him, reciting scriptures over and over again, praying sincerely. He hoped that Mr. Yan would soon find a thread of vitality for Lu Xingxing, and that he would recover quickly.
After the chaos at Southwest Baizhi Lake and the incident at the ghost deity’s burial ground in Northern Jiangbei, every exorcist had been so busy they hardly touched the ground.
Heaven and Earth had restarted, and the Great Dao had fulfilled its role. What remained was up to the exorcists and the human world itself.
—The Great Dao was not a doting mother. It would not handle everything on behalf of others.
It merely cleared away obstacles too great for mortals to overcome. What came after was up to them.
Even with the Dao shifting and Yan Shixun and Ye Li holding up the very balance of Heaven and Earth, they were by no means overly kind or lenient people.
Although the Taoists couldn’t fully grasp the deeper truths, they had never expected to rely on the Dao for everything. Instead, they traveled tirelessly across the land, dispelling lingering evil energies and hunting down malevolent spirits that had taken advantage of the chaos to harm the human world.
There were also many ordinary people with high spiritual sensitivity or weak constitutions who, on that very night, had been invaded by ghostly energies. Taoists had to go and purge these influences so those individuals could return to normal lives.
In addition to that, many Taoists and exorcists were severely injured and still had to cooperate with the authorities…
This made the already understaffed Haiyun Temple even more stretched. Every Taoist was working without rest, often not even getting a chance to breathe. As soon as they returned to the temple to fetch something, they had to head out again immediately.
Even those Taoists with serious injuries stayed at the temple to exorcise spirits from others, so busy they often forgot to change their own dressings or even eat.
The young acolytes were so overwhelmed they cried out of frustration.
Yet every Taoist who returned to Haiyun Temple would, without exception, make a point to visit Lu Xingxing. They would speak to him gently, asking those nearby about his condition for the day.
Even though Lu Xingxing remained pale, with eyes tightly shut and no response, as long as they saw the faint rise and fall of his breath, their hearts would feel at ease.
As soon as Yan Shixun returned from Jiangbei, he immediately got in touch with the abbot to inquire about Lu Xingxing’s condition.
At the time, Yan Shixun could not yet help Lu Xingxing replenish his vital energy.
With injuries as severe as his, Lu Xingxing couldn’t even tolerate a breeze. Any slight imbalance could lead to his death.
It was like a patient too weak to benefit from nourishment—ginseng would only do more harm than good.
At that point, all they could do was gently nurture his soul and body, letting him rely on his own willpower to begin the healing process. Only then would the temple’s life force be gradually infused into him, helping him adjust bit by bit, so that eventually he could accept external aid.
Though everyone was desperate to save Lu Xingxing, they had no choice but to hold back and wait patiently for the right moment.
Yan Shixun also called Taoist Song Yi. After all, by seniority, the not-yet-graduated Lu Xingxing was still considered underage. Any matter concerning him had to be discussed with his guardian—his master, Taoist Song Yi.
Over the phone, Taoist Song Yi’s voice sounded hoarse and exhausted. After asking about Yan Shixun and the state of Heaven and Earth, he gave a bitter smile and told him that he had already been informed of everything by the abbot as soon as it happened.
“Junior Brother Yan, don’t worry about Xingxing. With the master uncles of Haiyun Temple here, nothing will happen to him. Take care of yourself first. If you run into any difficulty, you must tell us—don’t shoulder it alone. Haiyun Temple is always your sect and your support. You can come back anytime, understand?”
Taoist Song Yi gave Yan Shixun careful instructions. Only after hearing his firm response did he feel somewhat reassured.
But after hanging up, he rubbed his temples, his face full of exhaustion, and couldn’t help but recall the moment he learned about Lu Xingxing.
When Lu Xingxing had been brought back to Haiyun Temple, the abbot immediately called his “guardian,” Taoist Song Yi, and rationally explained that Lu Xingxing’s condition was critical. Although everyone would give their all to save him, he should be prepared.
Prepared… to say goodbye to Lu Xingxing.
When Taoist Song Yi received that call on the outskirts of Binhai City, it felt like a thunderbolt on a clear day.
He had always known that his disciples might face danger, and perhaps one of them might even die before he did. He had mentally prepared himself for that.
After all, wherever was most dangerous and least desirable, that’s where the Taoists of Haiyun Temple would be.
Each and every Taoist had long been prepared to die at any time.
But what Taoist Song Yi never expected was that the first to fall among his disciples… would be the youngest one, the only one who had yet to finish his training.
That youngest disciple loved to play and joke, enjoyed music and noise, disliked quiet cultivation, and hated studying. He was so hyperactive he couldn’t sit still for more than ten minutes, constantly squirming and driving the lesson instructors crazy.
Every time the master uncles wanted to beat up Xingxing during his training, he always managed to sweet-talk his way out of it with that sugar-coated mouth of his. His words were sweeter than honey, leaving the master uncles both exasperated and amused—loving him and hating him all at once.
Even Taoist Song Yi often chased after Lu Xingxing with the intent to give him a beating, frustrated that he couldn’t mold him into someone better. But deep down, he liked this little disciple of his.
In the somber atmosphere where they spent their days dealing with ghosts and death, the sudden appearance of a cheerful child like Lu Xingxing had felt like sunshine breaking through gloomy skies.
In Taoist Song Yi’s generation, there was no one who didn’t like Lu Xingxing. They all looked at him with the kind, doting eyes of elders watching over the younger generation, shaking their heads while saying, “Why doesn’t this child study harder?” Yet at the same time, they thought, “So what if he finishes his training a few years later? With so many elders in the temple, the sky won’t fall.”
Just like how people tend to favor the youngest child in the family, Taoist Song Yi was no different.
Especially Taoist Li—he never said it aloud, but whenever he looked at Lu Xingxing, he always felt like he was seeing a younger version of himself.
Few people knew that the now highly respected, pillar-like Taoist Li had once been a little disciple who gave his master and senior brothers countless headaches while being deeply cherished.
He had knocked over incense burners, torn sacred texts, and run laughing across the mountains and fields—only to have his master running around before dinner shouting, “Pillar! Pillar!” while searching for him everywhere… These were soft memories unique to Taoist Li. Just thinking about them made him feel the joy of those days—joy that could never be replicated in this lifetime.
That was why, although Taoist Li often grabbed Lu Xingxing to rough him up, he never truly got angry—not even once.
Until the show Heart-Pounding Journey of Ninety-Nine Days began airing, and the production team encountered an evil spirit. Haiyun Temple, as the program’s sponsor, had to assign a Taoist to join the team.
This Taoist had to monitor what was happening inside the production crew, ensure everyone’s safety, and at the same time avoid letting the audience realize anything was wrong, or even suspect that ghosts were real.
Haiyun Temple deliberated for a long time, and in the end, Lu Xingxing was the most suitable choice.
He was already a musician, with one foot in the entertainment industry and the other still in Haiyun Temple. If he joined the show, the audience would simply think he was musician Lu Xingxing and wouldn’t pay much attention to his identity as a Taoist.
But before making a final decision, Taoist Song Yi tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. He worried that his ungraduated little disciple wouldn’t be able to protect the production team—or himself.
He brought his concerns to the abbot and the official in charge, expressing that he was willing to join the show himself.
But the abbot rejected him outright.
“If you go, then who’s going to do your job? There are very few idle Taoists in Haiyun Temple. Everyone’s already stretched beyond their limits. Just last month, a Taoist got sick and made mistakes from overwork… Every Taoist is irreplaceable. No one can afford to leave their post.”
“Taoist Song Yi, Xingxing is your disciple. You need to trust him more.”
The abbot studied Taoist Song Yi’s serious and meticulous appearance and shook his head. “If we really let you go, as soon as the audience sees you, they’ll be convinced something dangerous is going on, and it’ll cause panic.”
Taoist Song Yi felt helpless, but he knew the abbot was right.
Every time the show encountered danger, Taoist Song Yi, though angry at Lu Xingxing, could only push him harder—hoping that Xingxing would not only be able to protect others but also himself.
What Taoist Song Yi hadn’t expected was that Lu Xingxing’s growth still couldn’t keep up with the pace of the danger.
When he returned to Haiyun Temple and saw Lu Xingxing lying motionless on the bed, beyond the worry in his heart, he also felt a surge of pride for him.
This child… even though he hadn’t officially completed his training, he was already worthy of the Haiyun Temple name.
Taoist Song Yi couldn’t be by Lu Xingxing’s side every day. At a time when manpower was in high demand, Taoists like him, who were already fully independent, barely had time to set foot on the ground, let alone stop.
Most of the time, only Lu Xingxing’s senior brothers visited him and reported back to Taoist Song Yi.
Lately, he had developed a habit: he would always check on Xingxing’s well-being right after finishing his work, only then allowing himself to sleep in peace.
All the Taoists of Haiyun Temple who were away remained concerned about Lu Xingxing. They recited scriptures for him and offered prayers for his well-being.
Yan Shixun knew that Taoist Song Yi was worried about Lu Xingxing, so he shared some information with him, saying that as long as Xingxing’s physical condition improved, he would bring him back immediately.
The formation took effect, and Lu Xingxing was soon being nourished and restored. His complexion improved day by day.
Although Lu Xingxing was still unconscious and unresponsive to the outside world, one day, when the abbot checked on him, the usually calm and composed abbot couldn’t help but show a rare expression of joy. He immediately informed Yan Shixun.
Ye Li also wanted to come along, but since Haiyun Temple housed numerous divine statues, it was not a suitable place for Ye Li, who had become the Lord of Fengdu and walked the Great Dao. Yan Shixun worried that Ye Li might end up fighting with the statues, so he firmly refused his request.
—Even when Ye Li hugged him tightly and refused to let go, he remained completely unmoved in his decision.
This was Yan Shixun’s first time returning to Haiyun Temple in many days.
That night, when the townspeople had fled to the temple for refuge, the chaotic mountain roads had now been thoroughly cleared. Everything was back in order, leaving no trace of what had happened before.
When the young acolyte heard that Yan Shixun had arrived, he hurriedly shoved his big broom into his companion’s hands and rushed outside, eyes shining brightly with the excitement of meeting his idol.
But he ran too fast. His short legs caught on the tall threshold, and he went flying.
The little acolyte shut his eyes in fear, bracing himself for the pain of the fall.
However, before he even stepped through the temple gate, Yan Shixun had already reacted swiftly, catching the child midair in his arms.
The boy was still confused about why he didn’t feel any pain. When he opened his eyes, he realized not only was he being held by his idol, but his idol was also lazily looking down at him, smiling as he teased, “Small body, big strength, huh?”
The young acolyte’s face turned red instantly.
Yan Shixun didn’t tease him further. He simply bent down to set him on the ground and casually pulled a piece of candy from his pocket, placing it in the boy’s palm.
“Being strong is a good thing. One day you’ll be someone who can uphold the heavens and protect lives.”
Yan Shixun gave the little boy a pat, then stepped over the threshold with his long legs.
The acolyte stood frozen in place, dazed. Only after a long moment did he finally clench the candy tightly and resolve that he, too, would grow up to be a reliable Taoist like his idol.
Because the little acolyte had dashed off so suddenly, his master had been confused and worried something might’ve happened. So he followed behind, only to be greeted by the sight of Yan Shixun approaching.
“Fellow Taoist Yan,”
The Taoist greeted with a cupped fist and a smile. “Are you here for Xingxing?”
Yan Shixun nodded and noticed that this Taoist had suffered significant injuries.
Sensing Yan Shixun’s gaze, the Taoist casually waved it off and said, “Back that night in Binhai City, I got tossed around by a dozen statues from the park. Those statues had no manners at all. Got a little banged up, but it’s nothing now.”
Yan Shixun’s eyes softened with amusement. After asking for the location of Lu Xingxing’s room, he began walking in that direction.
“Fellow Taoist Yan,”
The abbot called out to him. After they exchanged greetings, the abbot lowered his voice with some concern and asked, “The Great Dao swee—”
Yan Shixun raised his slender finger to his lips.
He smiled faintly and said, “The universe remains steady, the sun and moon still turn, and the mortal world is at peace. Abbot, that’s enough.”
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