Yet Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu never picked up on Jiang Luo’s mood. That afternoon, they circled around a few more times, then reluctantly left under the cover of night.
To prevent the Fated One from realizing this was a setup, Lu Youyi and the others had already left Dazhao Temple in the past few days, one after another.
Cyril came back from the window. “Jiang, they’re gone. It’s just you and me now.”
Jiang Luo rested his chin in his hand, bored. “Yeah, just the two of us.”
Cyril still had work in the evenings over the past few days, so seeing there was still time, he hurried off to catch a nap on the bed.
Jiang Luo, unable to sleep, went off to mess with Ge Wuchen again. Watching Ge Wuchen’s face twist with suppressed anger was especially satisfying.
But before long, someone requested to add Jiang Luo as a WeChat friend. Before Jiang Luo could approve, the request was automatically accepted.
Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow, let out a couple of amused hums, and already knew who it was.
Sure enough, the person sent a message: [I’ll give you Teng Bi’s death date. Meet me tonight.]
We just met yesterday, you know?
Jiang Luo rolled his eyes: [Teng Bi died saving me. Since you knew his death date, why didn’t you bring it up earlier?]
The other person replied: [I only just found it.]
So he hadn’t just been out there devouring ghosts to restore his ghost energy—he’d also been searching for Teng Bi’s death date.
Jiang Luo sent him a thumbs-up emoji.
The ghost commanded: [Come out and meet me.]
Jiang Luo refused, smiling sweetly as he teased the ghost: [You lost to Wenren Lian and the others. Don’t forget to give them the prize. The faster you hand it over, the faster I might calm down.]
Around one in the morning, Hei Wuchang suddenly appeared in the room, holding a mourning staff and a soul-locking chain. Upon seeing Jiang Luo, he nodded slightly. “Young Master Jiang.”
Jiang Luo smiled and took three incense sticks from the side to light for Hei Wuchang. “Brother Hei, once you’re done with work tonight, could I trouble you to go find Wenren Lian and Ge Zhu? They’ve already received Teng Bi’s death date.”
Hei Wuchang nodded. “Of course.”
After accepting the incense, he handed the soul-locking chain to Cyril. Cyril opened his eyes, yawned, and regained all his memories. With a listless look, he waved helplessly at Jiang Luo and followed after Hei Wuchang. “Jiang, don’t leave a light on for me. I probably won’t be back until morning…”
He was right—he didn’t return until the break of dawn. Jiang Luo hadn’t slept all night. When the appointed time arrived, he quietly slipped out the back door and went up the mountain.
At 5 a.m., Master Chengde deliberately invited his friends to collect morning dew.
His friends teased him for playing around like a youngster in old age. Master Chengde laughed heartily. “Once we gather enough dew, I’ll brew you tea with it—using the premium tea I’ve stashed in my bookshelf!”
Daoist Master Fuchen, who loved teasing him, stroked his beard and chimed in, “What’s the occasion today? Has the sun risen in the west? You, of all people, are actually willing to part with that prized tea of yours?”
Someone even looked up toward the west. “Let me see if the sun really has risen from the west… Wait! What is that?!”
Everyone looked up toward the western sky.
The air was thick with moisture that morning, the sky dim and cloud-heavy. Layers of mist draped over the mountaintop in a greyish hue. Normally, they couldn’t even see the summit—but now, to their stunned disbelief, golden light flickered faintly from within the clouds, flashing intermittently.
“T-That’s—”
A dragon’s head emerged briefly from the clouds, then vanished. A golden tail swayed, winding through the mist. Someone screamed in shock, “That’s a dragon!”
Master Chengde’s face went pale, but his eyes were filled with overwhelming joy and awe. He had known Jiang Luo would do something extraordinary, but witnessing it with his own eyes was far more breathtaking than expected. His hands trembled. “There’s someone riding the dragon!”
Only after being reminded did the others notice the faint silhouette on the golden dragon’s back. From their distance, it was no more than a black dot. Daoist Master Fuchen’s eyes were wide and sore from staring. “Someone… riding a dragon? Isn’t that… a god?”
Master Chengde was instantly filled with gratitude toward Daoist Master Fuchen, secretly deciding to pour him an extra cup of tea later. Tears welled up in his eyes. “If that’s truly a god, then for me, Chengde, to have lived long enough to see this moment—it would be worth dying right now!”
He bowed deeply.
The others quickly followed suit, bowing as fervor filled their faces. Excited voices erupted one after another.
“Which ancestor has descended?!”
“Should we set up an altar for the golden dragon and the god?”
“The dragon’s heading our way! It’s coming!”
The golden dragon dove from the sky like lightning, crashing into a vacant temple in the distance like a massive boulder. Everyone froze in shock.
Then Master Chengde suddenly took off running. “That’s the new temple our Dazhao Temple just built—we haven’t even installed a Buddha statue in it yet! And now the golden dragon and the god have descended there. Quick! Let’s go look!”
Snapping out of their stupor, everyone rushed after him. Though Master Chengde was quite portly and initially led the group, he soon watched helplessly as his excited friends dashed past him like unleashed hounds—even the over-sixty-year-old Daoist Master Fuchen was sprinting, leaving Chengde behind.
Panting and gasping, they finally reached the temple gates. Master Chengde was shoved to the front by the group. “Chengde, it’s your place—you have to ask. Knock on the door! Let’s see what’s inside!”
Just as he was about to speak, a formless force surged from within the temple.
It was a power heavy and immense, carrying a divine, gentle warmth. Like seawater, it spread swiftly outward from the temple.
Someone who had met the Fated One before murmured, “This feels so much like… the Fated One…”
Master Chengde’s knees buckled as he dropped to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. “I never imagined a god would truly descend upon our Dazhao Temple! Quickly, go fetch the abbot!”
The abbot soon arrived. With Master Chengde’s help, he hurried into the temple and soon came out again. The two knelt before the temple, clutching each other and weeping. Their words confirmed what everyone had already suspected—this was indeed the descent of a true god.
The crowd exploded in awe.
That very day, news that a wild god had descended upon Dazhao Temple spread like wildfire. From the next morning onward, huge crowds came to the temple to offer worship.
The true god rarely showed himself and disliked being disturbed. Yet even without catching a glimpse, people continued coming in droves. Just being able to offer worship was blessing enough.
…
In the north, deep in an icy cave—
The Fated One slowly opened his eyes and looked toward the shikigami delivering the report. “You say… a true god has descended upon Dazhao Temple?”
Dazhao Temple was the origin of his first aspiration to become divine. He had long stationed people there to keep watch.
The shikigami replied, “More than one person saw it with their own eyes—a true god riding a golden dragon descended into Dazhao Temple.”
The Fated One closed his eyes again.
Frost gathered on his lashes, forming a thin layer of snow.
Water dripped steadily in the ice cave, falling into the shallow pool on the ground—just like the ripples now stirring in the Fated One’s heart.
He wanted, more than anything, to become a god.
For two hundred years, he had tried countless methods, but always fell short at the final step. One last, insurmountable chasm lay before him—blocking the path to godhood.
As long as it concerned the gods, no matter how dangerous the place, the Fated One would go and take a look. This trip to Dazhao Temple—he was definitely going.
However…
The Fated One let out a gentle sigh.
Ever since half of his worship power had been drawn away by Jiang Luo, he had not shown his true body before anyone.
This outing was bound to be fraught with danger—not just because he had weakened, but also because someone would undoubtedly set up layers of deadly traps to kill him.
Chi You no longer posed a threat to him. But Jiang Luo was still alive. Not only alive—Jiang Luo had become a living dead.
The Fated One thought of this and, strangely, began to smile. He stood up. “Then let’s go and see.”
***
The Fated One didn’t take long to arrive at Dazhao Temple.
But he didn’t enter the temple directly. Instead, he took his shikigami up a nearby mountain, gazing down from above at the various halls within the temple complex.
Having not returned for many years, the Fated One felt rather comforted. “So much has changed. Since I left, Dazhao Temple has grown more and more prosperous—it’s like an entirely different place.”
The shikigami pointed to the temples on the north and south sides. “That’s where the Golden Dragon and the True God descended.”
The Fated One nodded and stretched out his fingers to divine.
If the target of divination was a god, then divining anything related would only rebound upon the caster. Out of caution, the Fated One asked a more ambiguous question.
Was there a god present in the temple?
This divination took many times longer than usual. After an hour, the Fated One’s fingers finally stopped. A fanatical fire lit up in his eyes.
The answer was yes.
A True God had actually descended upon Dazhao Temple!
Eyes blazing, the Fated One looked toward the temple, then turned and descended the mountain at once.
He strode toward Dazhao Temple, where the Abbot and Master Chengde were already waiting at the gate. Upon seeing the Fated One, they showed no surprise. Instead, they greeted him with respectful distance and courteous politeness: “Fated One, what brings you here?”
The Fated One assumed the True God had divined his arrival and smiled warmly. “I heard a True God has descended at Dazhao Temple. Of course I’ve come to pay my respects.”
Master Chengde gave a bitter smile. “Since this god arrived at our temple, no one’s seen him even once. If you want to meet him, I’m afraid it won’t be easy.”
“If it were that easy to meet a god,” the Fated One said calmly, “I wouldn’t have spent all these years searching. I’m fully prepared.”
The abbot personally led him into the temple, while Master Chengde explained the changes Dazhao Temple had undergone over the past few decades. When they passed the ruined sutra library, the Fated One paused, glanced sideways at the rubble, and continued walking.
Master Chengde followed, saying, “The sutra library hasn’t been rebuilt. First, we don’t have enough scriptures to fill it. Second, keeping these ruins reminds us constantly of what that unfilial disciple, Ge Wuchen, did.”
He snorted coldly, hate in his voice. “If I could go back in time, I’d rather kill him than let him burn the sutra library and his Master and senior uncles to death!”
The abbot spoke sternly. “Chengde!”
Master Chengde sighed and waved his hand, saying no more.
Before long, they arrived at the hall where the True God had descended. Master Chengde smiled. “Knowing you were coming, I dismissed all the worshippers. If you really get to meet the god, you must tell us—what’s the difference between immortals and us ordinary people?”
The Fated One gazed steadily at the hall and smiled. “Of course.”
After the Fated One entered, Master Chengde shut the temple door behind him, leaving the space to him alone.
Inside.
Cyril was incredibly nervous, keeping his mouth tightly shut as he stared at the phone screen with Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo listened intently to the sounds outside, a smirk tugging at his lips, and typed to chat with Cyril.
[This angle is great. The northeast, northwest, southeast, and southwest cameras are all capturing him clearly.]
They were using the most advanced invisible surveillance cameras provided by the state—crystal-clear resolution, long-range transmission, fast speed, and super stable signal.
Cyril stifled a laugh. [Jiang, is he really over two hundred years old? He looks so young.]
Jiang Luo replied: [He could be your ancestor.]
The Fated One picked up three sticks of incense, lit them, performed a fluid ritual of bows, and placed them in the censer.
Only then did he look with a smile toward the tightly shut wooden door and ask, “How should I address the honored one?”
Jiang Luo didn’t respond.
The Fated One knew that gods were different from mortals. Even as a false god himself, in the eyes of a true god, he was only slightly better than a mortal. He remained humble—he hadn’t taken the posture of a junior for a long time, but in the face of a chance to become divine, not only was he reverent—he would step into a sea of fire or a mountain of blades without blinking.
He maintained his posture of bowing before the god. He bowed for so long, day turned to night. He bowed until dark, until Hei Wuchang appeared.
The Fated One personally saw Hei Wuchang enter the room. The light in his eyes burned even brighter. He became more certain than ever that a true god resided within.
He would not let go of the chance to be guided by a true god.
After a while, a cold, dreamlike voice came from inside. “I want to rest now.”
The Fated One replied, “Then I’ll return tomorrow to seek your teachings.”
The voice inside said faintly, “Come back when you understand how to properly worship a god.”
The Fated One withdrew as instructed, a slight furrow in his brow.
Back in the room Master Chengde had prepared for him, he asked the shikigami beside him, “How do you worship me?”
The shikigami looked confused. “I kneel and offer incense…”
The Fated One fell into deep thought.
The next morning at 8 a.m., the temple door to Jiang Luo’s hall opened. The Fated One stepped in on time, instructing the shikigami to close the door and stand guard outside. He then walked to Jiang Luo’s tightly shut door.
Jiang Luo stared fixedly at the screen, itching to see what the Fated One would do.
Cyril had been working all night and was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, but in order to watch the show, he forced his eyelids open with his hands and joined Jiang Luo in excitedly staring at the screen.
Surrounded by four invisible cameras, the Fated One knelt on the ground, clean and decisive, with a rather calm composure.
The instant his knees hit the floor, Jiang Luo, quick-eyed and fast-handed, took a screenshot and swiftly sent it to the class group chat, along with a caption to Chi You.
The image was of the Fated One kneeling, with the caption: “The Fated One is here to pay his New Year’s respects.jpg.”
