Yellow Skinned Taoist Master

Chapter 142: Releasing the Yin God — Like This

"What great hall?"

The white-robed old Daoist's eyes darted evasively. "Your master doesn't see any great hall."

"Second Master, you promised!"

Chen Huangpi said furiously. "You said if I brought you something to eat, you'd tell me. You can't go back on your word."

"Your master did promise."

The white-robed old Daoist said slyly. "But look — your master's belly is flat."

"If I'd eaten, it would be round."

"It's not round, so I haven't eaten."

"And if I haven't eaten, why should your master tell you anything?"

Even as he spoke, the white-robed old Daoist was shepherding Chen Huangpi toward the door. "Huangpi, dawn is nearly here. Time for you to go back. Don't come to the Old Temple anymore.""Yes, yes!"

The Brass Oil Lamp chimed in hastily. "So the great hall looks just like the one outside. It's not a big deal."

"I'm not leaving."

Chen Huangpi said angrily. "Huang Er, don't try to talk me out of it. The Old Temple is the vanished part of the Pure Immortal Temple. But the great hall outside is perfectly intact — so why is there a duplicate here?"

"And the portraits of Master are blank."

"This place definitely holds a secret."

If the white-robed old Daoist had never made the promise, that would be one thing.

But he'd promised and now wouldn't follow through.

That was blatant cheating.

Chen Huangpi had a stubborn streak, and he refused to leave like this.

The white-robed old Daoist tried to reason with him. "Huangpi, there really is no secret in this great hall. Even if there were, your master certainly wouldn't tell you that there's an evil spirit imprisoned here."

"An evil spirit?"

Chen Huangpi asked in confusion. "There's an evil spirit imprisoned here?"

What kind of evil spirit needed to be imprisoned in the Old Temple's great hall?

What else could it be?

The Brass Oil Lamp went green in the face.

When the Second Guanzhu had been lucid, he'd said the Old Temple was suppressing the dead, mutated Azure Heaven.

"Stop asking! Stop asking!"

The Brass Oil Lamp said, trembling. "Chen Huangpi, let's be good and get out. If you won't leave, then I'm going first. I'm not waiting for you."

It trembled its way toward the hall's entrance.

Not because it didn't want to fly.

But because the Second Guanzhu had digested all its lamp oil.

It would need an entire day to recover.

Watching this, Chen Huangpi mused silently: 'The Old Temple has a formation. Master's great treasures are all part of it. And now there's this great hall — in the exact spot where the Flying Immortal Painting used to hang.'

'Perhaps this is the eye of the formation.'

"Right. It is the eye of the formation."

The white-robed old Daoist hurriedly pushed Chen Huangpi out of the hall. "From now on, don't come to the Old Temple. And focus on practicing the Yin-Yang Harmonization and Spirit Transformation Art that your master taught you. Stop practicing your First Master's wicked techniques."

Watching Second Master move to slam the hall doors shut.

Chen Huangpi seized the moment to ask, "Second Master, I've been meaning to ask you — I've already cultivated my Six Yin God, but it's been asleep this whole time. How do I release my Yin God?"

"Go to a Yin Extreme Land, where the moon sets. That'll do it. And remember to bring a coffin."

"But isn't that right here in the Old Temple?"

Chen Huangpi was confused.

The sun was Master's Yang God. The moon was Master's Yin God.

Both sun and moon sank into the Old Temple, alternating in an endless cycle.

Was there anywhere in the Hundred Thousand Mountains more deserving of the title "Yin Extreme Land" than the Old Temple?

The white-robed old Daoist waved him off. "The Hundred Thousand Mountains have no sun or moon. Now then — your master is closing the door. The evil spirits in here are too few. Not enough to eat. Capture some more and send them in."

"Oh — and not old ones. I want fresh ones."

"Fresh ones have better flesh. Fresh ones taste right."

With that — CLANG — the hall doors slammed shut.

Chen Huangpi felt a pang of reluctance. He was about to ask if Second Master wanted any seasoning, but the great hall before his eyes dissolved like a mirage, vanishing without a trace.

It was as though Second Master was hiding from him.

As though he didn't want Chen Huangpi to see the hall.

"Don't dwell on it."

The Brass Oil Lamp urged. "Look at the time! If we don't leave now, the sun will be up."

Chen Huangpi looked up.

The crimson moon overhead had already sunk more than halfway into the darkness.

Moon down, sun up.

It meant Master's Yang God — the one that took the shape of the sun — was about to rise from within the Old Temple.

Chen Huangpi drew a deep breath.

Then, without hesitation, he scooped up the Brass Oil Lamp and sprinted toward the nearest exit from the Old Temple.

He'd memorized the direction.

Perhaps that direction was where the Old Temple's great hall truly stood.

His cultivation was now considerable.

Though not as overpowering as when he'd been in his state of madness — every technique flowing effortlessly.

All he needed to do was channel his power into the Brass Oil Lamp.

And the Divine Light of Escape would carry them away.

...

Outside the Scripture Pavilion.

Clank, clank...

Silver Horn lay on the ground, pawing at the Shoushan Copper chain that had once bound Golden Horn.

Apart from that earlier episode when three blazing suns had warred within the Old Temple.

Sending everything floating skyward.

Recently, Silver Horn had been doing reasonably well.

At least it wasn't starving.

"I wonder when big brother and Daddy Huangpi will come take me out."

All eight of Silver Horn's eyes were clouded with worry. It whimpered pitifully. "The Old Temple is terrifying. And worst of all, big brother is almost gone. I only eat one bite a day, and even then I'll only last another half month."

"Going hungry is awful."

"Big brother could have at least grown a bit bigger before leaving. Now I have to ration."

Silver Horn grumbled as it hugged Golden Horn's bones and yawned.

It said one bite a day.

That was because it had already devoured all of Golden Horn's flesh. The remaining bones were extremely hard — difficult to digest and very filling.

And once full, sleepiness followed.

As Silver Horn drifted off, a glimmer of gold began to emerge across its silver-colored body.

As though consuming Golden Horn's physical form. Had triggered some wondrous transformation.

Just then.

A streak of golden light shot past overhead, rocketing over the Scripture Pavilion.

But the slumbering Silver Horn didn't see a thing.

Not until they were nearly at the courtyard gate leading out of the Old Temple.

Chen Huangpi said with a vague sense of something missing, "Huang Er, do you feel like we're forgetting something?"

The Brass Oil Lamp said, "Lamp oil."

"Not lamp oil."

Chen Huangpi scratched his head. "I think I forgot to do something."

The Brass Oil Lamp said, "You came to the Old Temple for two reasons: one, to retrieve the robe; two, to see the Second Guanzhu. Both are done. What else could there be?"

"Probably something small."

But the moment those words left his mouth.

Chen Huangpi froze.

The Brass Oil Lamp froze too.

They looked at each other and said in unison: "Chi Xie!!"

"How did I completely forget about it?"

Chen Huangpi said in frustration. "My Liver Temple isn't finished yet, but once it is, I'll definitely pull it inside and give it hell. And I already killed it — but I left it behind."

"How would you even bring it?"

The Brass Oil Lamp said. "You destroyed Chi Xie's soul, but its natal fire seed won't go out. That fire is sinister — it ignites people's thoughts."

"If you go back now — setting aside whether there's time..."

"What if you fall to madness again?"

"True."

Chen Huangpi considered, then said, "Then I'll wait until my Liver Temple is complete. I'll come back and claim it then. It's stuck in the Old Temple — it's not going anywhere."

...

Moon down. Sun up.

Beyond the Hundred Thousand Mountains, the sun rises earlier.

Warm sunlight spilled across the land.

Driving away the desolate black of night.

But it could not drive away the chill in Wang Taiyu's heart.

At this moment, inside his temporary residence, in his study.

A man in a black robe and mask stood before Wang Taiyu.

The man spoke coldly. "Grand Tutor, His Majesty has words for you: your performance this time was excellent. His Majesty is most pleased. From today, you are to pack your belongings and return to the capital to report. His Majesty will have a reward waiting."

This was an imperial envoy from the palace.

Wang Taiyu knew exactly what these envoys were.

But he kept that knowledge locked away — he hadn't even told his own son, Wang Mingdao.

Yet now.

The envoy's cold words.

Filled Wang Taiyu with a pain he couldn't put into words.

But his face was all smiles. He bowed toward the direction of the capital, overcome with emotion. "His Majesty's gracious favor — I can never repay it enough. I can only do my utmost, lay down my life, and share His Majesty's burdens."

"The Da Kang dynasty faces pressure from within and without."

"The West Region Buddha Kingdom grows restless."

"I eat His Majesty's grain—"

The envoy cut him off. "Grand Tutor, His Majesty wants you to depart today."

Before coming, the envoy had been briefed on what Wang Taiyu was doing in Xuzhou City.

Ordering local officials to till the fields alongside the common people.

Setting a three-day deadline, after which every one of them would be publicly beheaded, their estates confiscated.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Wang Taiyu feigned surprise. "That urgent? But I still have much to attend to. Might I have a bit more time?"

The envoy considered. "Sunset at the latest. The Grand Tutor must depart by then."

"Understood."

Wang Taiyu said. The envoy vanished.

And Wang Taiyu sat in his study, brewing a pot of tea with elaborate care.

Leaves first. Then boiling water.

The first steeping was too bitter, too harsh — pour it out.

The second steeping was less bitter, but something about it was off. He didn't drink that either.

The third steeping was sweet on the palate — a fine brew. But he wasn't thirsty.

The fourth steeping...

Flat and flavorless. Not worth drinking.

Gradually, the pot went cold.

Wang Taiyu's shadow peeled itself from the floor, poured out the tea and leaves, and began the brewing anew.

"Xuzhou City is done for."

"Before sunset, you and I must leave."

The shadow evil spirit was Yang Shu.

Also an imperial envoy — only, before becoming an evil spirit, he and Wang Taiyu had been inseparable friends, sworn brothers.

And so, he refused to watch Wang Taiyu make a fatal mistake.

"Brother Wang, you've fought too hard and come too far to throw it away."

The shadow evil spirit handed him a cup of tea. "Those commoners — let them be. Whatever happens, happens."

Wang Taiyu drained the cup in one swallow.

Then his face contorted at the overwhelming bitterness. He said, displeased, "Brother Yang, why did you serve me the first steeping?"

"That was already the third."

"Finish this pot. And let your heart be still."

"My heart is already in turmoil. How can it be stilled?"

Wang Taiyu said in anguish. "How could His Majesty let it come to this? Are the people of Xuzhou City not citizens of Da Kang?"

The shadow evil spirit said, "His Majesty has been in the capital far too long. Xuzhou City is a remote backwater — beneath his notice."

"I will evacuate the people."

"You cannot. Panic breeds upheaval. That envoy is not me — he will report everything to His Majesty truthfully. You need a different pretext."

"Farmwork!!"

Wang Taiyu's eyes lit up. "The people go outside the city to farm. That pretext—"

The shadow evil spirit finished for him. "That pretext is safe. But the people of Xuzhou aren't all farmers. You can only save about a tenth of them this way. Any more, and it will be too obvious."

"Drink some more hot tea. It'll warm the blood in your veins."