Chapter Fifty: The Sage’s Temple (Second Update)

After lunch, with nothing pressing in the afternoon, Feng Yuan stayed home to write his novel and cultivate his spiritual energy. His cultivation was still too weak; he needed to advance quickly, otherwise, should trouble like last night arise again, he would be utterly helpless.

He spent the afternoon writing and cultivating. By the time he finished, dusk had fallen. Feng Yuan emerged from his room, stretched, and patted his empty stomach. He never did much hard labor, yet after cultivation, he always felt hungry.

Hu Xiao was still preparing dinner. Feng Yuan gazed at the brilliant sunset in the west; it was beautiful. He stepped outside, heading toward the western side behind the village, admiring the evening glow and the scenery around him.

What set this era apart from Earth was its unspoiled environment. The air was sweet and pure, every breath refreshing. Feng Yuan now had money, his house was renovated, and his days were spent cultivating and wandering the village, free from worry. Such a leisurely existence suited him well, though it was tinged with loneliness.

Walking and looking about, Feng Yuan happened to glance at the home of the village's wealthy man, Master Feng. He suddenly noticed a swirl of black smoke hovering above it. This was not smoke from a fire, but something more sinister—just like the dark aura that had emanated from Lan Qirou. It was ghostly energy.

“What happened at Master Feng’s home? Why is there such heavy ghostly air?” Feng Yuan wondered to himself.

As he pondered, the sound of a woman’s sobbing came from the hillside behind him. He turned and saw a group emerging from the path near the slope, carrying something.

As they drew closer, Feng Yuan saw clearly: four or five men were carrying a person wrapped in a straw mat, identity obscured. A woman, followed by a child, was crying bitterly.

He recognized them: the wife and child of Feng Dazhu. Feng Dazhu was a scholar, older than Feng Yuan by several decades, but far less learned; he had spent years attempting the imperial exams, never managing to pass.

“Sister-in-law, what happened?” Feng Yuan hurried forward to ask.

“My husband went out two days ago and never returned. Today, someone found him in the ruined Sage Temple on the hillside. He’s been dead for two days. Oh, what a bitter fate!” she wailed.

“What? Brother Dazhu has died? How did it happen?” Feng Yuan was shocked.

“I don’t know, but most likely he starved to death,” she sobbed.

Feng Yuan felt a pang of sorrow. He pulled out a string of copper coins and pressed them into her hand. “Sister-in-law, please accept my condolences. I knew Brother Dazhu; this is a token of my regard.”

“Thank you, Feng Yuan, thank you! I’m so grateful!” She tried to kneel, but Feng Yuan quickly stopped her.

“No need, Sister-in-law. Hurry home and tend to Dazhu’s affairs,” Feng Yuan urged.

With that, she and her group departed. Feng Yuan turned to gaze at the hillside. There, halfway up, stood the Sage Temple, dilapidated and eerie. He’d visited as a child and had always found it frightening. Legend had it that the temple was once prosperous; scholars would pray there before their exams and invariably succeed. One night, lightning struck, collapsing half the temple and splitting the sage’s statue in two.

After that, no one dared visit. Rumor had it the sage had helped too many scholars, disrupting the order and angering the heavens, which punished him. The temple gradually fell into ruin, becoming a haunt for wild animals.

Feng Dazhu’s mysterious death in the Sage Temple made Feng Yuan suspect that Dazhu, frustrated by his repeated failures, had gone there seeking the sage’s blessing, only to meet his end.

“Master, master, dinner’s ready!”

Hu Xiao’s voice rang from the distance. Feng Yuan turned to see her bounding toward him, full of excitement.

“What’s got you so happy?” Feng Yuan asked.

“Hehe, don’t you notice anything, master?”

“Notice what?”

“Look at my head!”

He glanced and saw she was wearing a new silver hairpin. No wonder she was so cheerful.

“It looks lovely on you!” Feng Yuan praised.

“Really? Wonderful!” Hu Xiao beamed, bouncing in place like any ordinary girl, utterly belying her true nature as a thousand-year-old fox spirit.

Watching her joy, Feng Yuan thought to himself, perhaps he wasn’t so lonely after all.

Night fell quickly. The two returned home.

After dinner, the weather was stifling. Feng Yuan and Hu Xiao brought chairs out into the courtyard to cool off. Feng Yuan lounged comfortably in a bamboo chair while Hu Xiao massaged him.

These days, Feng Yuan had been teaching Hu Xiao massage techniques from his previous life. She was clever and quick to learn, already approaching professional standards.

“Xiao Xiao, left side, harder!”

“Yes, master!”

As he enjoyed her massage, Feng Yuan mused that a cold beer would make the moment perfect, but alas, neither beer nor ice were to be had.

“Feng Yuan! Feng Yuan!”

Just then, voices called from outside. Two people entered: one old, with white beard—perhaps sixty or seventy—and one young, only a little older than Feng Yuan. Both were dressed in white.

Feng Yuan hurried to his feet. It was the old scholar Feng Changshun, his childhood tutor at the village school, and his fellow student Feng Hanyun.

“Greetings, teacher!” Feng Yuan bowed to Feng Changshun, who had been his first instructor.

“Feng Yuan, good timing! Come with me,” Feng Changshun said, smiling.

“Yes, Feng Yuan, you’re in luck this time. Come quickly!” Feng Hanyun urged.

“Where are we going?” Feng Yuan asked, bewildered.

“To hear a master lecture, of course! The imperial exam is approaching—you must listen well. Come!” Without waiting for a reply, Feng Changshun took Feng Yuan’s hand and drew him along.

“But, teacher, wait—”

“No waiting, or you’ll miss your chance! Hurry, or there’ll be no seats left!” Feng Changshun said sternly.

“Yes, we must get there early to secure a spot!” Feng Hanyun nodded, grabbing Feng Yuan too.

Feng Yuan, seeing their enthusiasm, felt awkward declining. He turned to call out, “Xiao Xiao, I’ll be back soon!”

“All right, master. Take care and come home soon; I’ll be waiting!” Hu Xiao replied.

Feng Yuan followed the two out, heading toward the rear of the village. The path was pitch-black, barely visible, yet Feng Changshun and Feng Hanyun seemed to know it by heart, pulling him along.

“Teacher, isn’t this the mountain path? Are we going the right way?” Feng Yuan asked, uncertain.

“Of course! This is the way!” Feng Changshun replied, smiling.

“Yes, Feng Yuan, the master is lecturing at the Sage Temple. We must hurry or there’ll be no seats!” Feng Hanyun pointed to the temple halfway up the hill, where a firelight now flickered.

Feng Yuan recalled that Feng Dazhu had died there at dusk. The Sage Temple felt ominous.