Chapter 30: The Divine Temple

“Thank you for your righteous help, young hero. My name is Tu Chengli, from Yin County in Yuezhou Prefecture.”

After Lu Xin paid for the tea, the scholar’s face lit up with delight. He hurried over and sat down. Just moments ago, he had been shouting and making a scene, but now he acted as if nothing had happened, staring fixedly at the youth before him. As he spoke, he picked up his chopsticks and stuffed beef into his mouth. Judging by the blissful look on his face, it was clear he hadn’t tasted meat in a long while.

This overly familiar demeanor made it no wonder the tea stall owner had called him a scoundrel. Lu Xin felt somewhat uncomfortable at first, but when he noticed the patch on the scholar’s sleeve, he merely shook his head and, with a sigh, ordered another plate of beef.

“Tsk tsk, that shopkeeper may not be much, but his sauced beef is excellent. With some in my belly, I’ll be able to last another two or three days on the road.”

In less than half a minute, Tu Chengli had devoured half the plate of beef. He glanced at Lu Xin, grinned awkwardly, and began rummaging through his bundle.

“After days of traveling through this desolate countryside, I was famished. If I offended you, young hero, I beg your forgiveness. As thanks, I can lend you a treasured book I’ve kept for years. It’s a rare and precious volume—an absolute masterpiece. Do keep it secret.”

Tu Chengli pulled a tattered, yellowed book from his bundle, suddenly taking on a furtive air and lowering his voice. Lu Xin frowned, flipped through a page, and his face instantly flushed. He quickly pushed the book back.

“Spring Palace Illustrations?”

“Hush! Not Spring Palace—this is ‘Mandarin Ducks Sporting in Water, Celestials Soaring Beyond the World.’ That old saying, ‘A moment of spring night is worth a thousand pieces of gold,’ comes straight from this book. Think about it—handsome young men like us, journeying alone through wild mountains and empty nights, accompanied only by nightingales and solitary lamps. How lonely is that? With this book for company, how much longing and sorrow could be eased? Judging by your age, you must be able to appreciate such sentiments, just as I do, heh heh heh…”

Tu Chengli’s lascivious chuckle was truly lewd, his eyes narrowed to slits, utterly unbecoming of a scholar. Lu Xin sighed inwardly at his own misfortune, exhaled, and with a cold expression said, “You left home for the capital exams with nothing to your name. Losing your money pouch was just an excuse; you simply hoped for a free meal, isn’t that right?”

“What makes you say that, young hero?”

“No need to pretend with me. You have a patch on your sleeve and not even a change of clothes in your bundle—hardly the look of someone well-off. Anyone heading to the capital for the exams, no matter how poor, would at least have a decent set of clothes to keep up appearances, even if they went hungry. I come from the same background—you would sooner lose your life than a single coin, let alone a pouch. How could you possibly misplace it?”

Lu Xin’s words gradually changed the scholar’s expression; clearly, he hadn’t expected his situation to be laid bare in just a few sentences. With little choice, he put away the Spring Palace book and began to share his story with Lu Xin.

Tu Chengli was seventeen, born in a fishing village in the northeast of Yin County. His parents were lost at sea when he was two years old and never returned. He was raised by the villagers, living on meals from many households. At five, he began herding cattle for a wealthy family, where he learned to read. According to Tu Chengli himself, he was exceptionally bright and born for scholarship. Texts that took others two or three years to master, he could recite fluently in a month or two—even backwards.

Later, thanks to his natural talent and poetic gifts, he became a favorite of the local lord at age nine, who sponsored his studies at the county school. In the bustling town, Tu Chengli became enamored with the excitement of the streets, neglected his studies, and spent his days with ruffians. After wasting several years and making little progress, the lord withdrew his support. With no source of income, Tu Chengli was forced to return to his studies. Two years ago, a poem of his brought him fame throughout the county, and he was recommended by the county itself to take the exams in Chang’an as a provincial scholar.

“So you’re a renowned scholar from Yin County, selected as a provincial candidate. Didn’t the county office provide you with any money for the journey?”

Though Tu Chengli rambled at length with dramatic flair, Lu Xin, given what he’d already witnessed, couldn’t quite believe him. For one so lecherous and gluttonous to possess such exceptional literary talent seemed a stretch.

“Ah, the ancient saying is true—‘High mountains and flowing water, but confidants are hard to find.’ If even a peerless hero like you doesn’t believe in me, who in this world can I truly confide in? Never mind, let’s drop the subject…”

Tu Chengli let out a long sigh and reached for more food, but Lu Xin quickly moved his chopsticks to stop him. Just then, a group of horsemen galloped past the tea stall. Over a dozen riders, draped in rain cloaks and bamboo hats, sped by. Their horses passed so close that splattered mud covered everyone, and the tea and beef on the table were ruined.

Tu Chengli leapt to his feet, furious and ready to shout, but when he saw the leader of the group stop nearby, his expression changed abruptly. He immediately sat down and lowered his head.

Lu Xin, too, was annoyed—his clothes were filthy, and the second plate of beef he’d just ordered was wasted. He wanted to seek compensation, so he grabbed his Yin-Yang Wandering Immortal Sword and started to rise.

At that moment, the leader of the riders approached the tea stall owner.

“Shopkeeper, how far is it to Black Tiger Town from here? There are two roads down the mountain—which should we take?”

“Sir, Black Tiger Town is twenty li from Black Tiger Ridge. Either road will get you there, but the right path, though steeper, is shorter…”

“Thank you. We’ll take it.”

The leader called to his men, intending to mount up again. Lu Xin was about to speak up when Tu Chengli suddenly covered his mouth.

“Are you mad? You’d dare provoke people from the Divine Spirit Temple? Do you have a death wish?”

“Divine Spirit Temple?”

Lu Xin frowned. He vaguely recalled hearing that name before. The scholar’s face was pale with fear; though he spoke in a hushed voice, his hands were visibly trembling. Seeing this, Lu Xin suppressed his anger and sat back down. Soon, the riders disappeared into the forest, leaving only a trail of hoofprints as evidence they’d ever been there.

“The Divine Spirit Temple you mentioned—is it a government institution?”

“So you do know something. You nearly scared me to death just now. Luckily, I noticed the leader’s attire beneath his cloak—a government-issued uniform, with special embroidery at the collar and cuffs signifying the Divine Spirit Temple. His followers wore armor, clearly elite cavalry requisitioned from the local garrison. When the temple’s Yin-Yang Masters investigate a case, there must be monsters or demons about!”

As he finished, Tu Chengli wrapped his clothes tighter, as if he felt a chill. Lu Xin then recalled that two years ago, at the City God Temple in Xiaoxi Town, he’d heard that name. Back then, Du Yuetao tried to invoke the Divine Spirit Temple to threaten the Yin-Yang Masters of the Nine Poison Sect from killing, but it had been futile.

“So you know about Yin-Yang Masters? Have you ever seen one?”

“Seen one? Of course not. But in these chaotic times, monsters run rampant—spirits and demons everywhere. The stories of Yin-Yang Masters are well known among the people, though I’ve never heard of any coming out to heal or save lives.”

“Heh, true enough. Yin-Yang Masters cultivate to become immortals; their own tribulations are endless. Who cares about the fate of common folk? What do you know of the Divine Spirit Temple?”

Having obtained the Yin-Yang Wandering Immortal Sword, Lu Xin believed, as Master Wuyouzi had said, that he was fated to pursue the Dao. Since the Divine Spirit Temple was a government institution of the Tang court, and he was heading to Chang’an, he needed to learn more. Otherwise, if he got entangled in the court’s struggles with various sects without knowing the situation, it would be a grave misfortune.

“I don’t know much, honestly—just some rumors I picked up back when I was mingling in the city. You’ve heard of the Court of Judicature and Revision, right? They oversee all criminal cases, holding great authority in the government. The Divine Spirit Temple is like the Court of Judicature and Revision for the underworld, handling supernatural cases. I don’t know how much power those Imperial Yin-Yang Masters hold, but once they’re out on a mission, it’s as good as having the emperor’s mandate—they can act first and report later…”

The tea at Black Tiger Ridge brought Lu Xin little comfort, but he did learn many interesting tales from Tu Chengli. The rainstorm passed in less than half an hour, and night had fallen completely. Lu Xin had planned to ride alone to the town for lodging, but Tu Chengli insisted on accompanying him, saying it was safer to travel together. Unable to refuse, Lu Xin agreed.

In the pitch dark, the two made slow progress along the muddy mountain road. It was twenty li from Black Tiger Ridge to the town below—not far, but after the rain and in the dead of night, even someone as fit as Lu Xin found it difficult. As for Tu Chengli, a frail scholar, he was so weak that Lu Xin had to carry him for much of the way.

Boom!

After traveling about ten li, another thunderclap split the sky, followed by a howling wind and another torrential downpour. The mountain path became impassable. With no other option, Lu Xin led Tu Chengli into the forest to take shelter. Surrounded by dense shrubs and tall trees, they were spared most of the rain, but couldn’t escape the chill mountain wind. Tu Chengli trembled uncontrollably, clinging to Lu Xin for dear life.

“I must have the worst luck in eight lifetimes to have run into you. Great—now we’re stuck on the mountain all night.”

“Through adversity we share one boat, as the saying goes… The Buddha said saving a life is more meritorious than building a seven-tiered pagoda. Meeting me is a blessing from heaven, Xin—don’t even think of abandoning me, or I’ll haunt you even as a ghost.”

“Damn it, say that again and I’ll throw you out right now. And stop calling me Xin.”

“Alright, Xin, I admit my mistake.”

…

After just a few hours together, Lu Xin was already at his wit’s end with this lecherous, shameless scholar. He was just about to kick him out when the Yin-Yang Wandering Immortal Sword in his hand began to tremble violently, broke free of its wrappings, and flew out into the night.