Chapter 212: Ascending Qingcheng Mountain

On the way back to the county town, after chatting briefly with a middle-aged woman, Zhou Qing continued walking toward the town center.

Although he had been away for more than ten years, the small county town had changed little; the streets looked just as they did back then, with only slight alterations to the houses lining them.

Following the direction etched in his memory, Zhou Qing entered the town and headed toward Eight-Character Alley, where he had lived for several years.

On the way, he encountered a few familiar faces who recognized him—vendors selling flatbreads along the street, small stall owners, and a woman who had lived in the town for many years.

Returning to Eight-Character Alley, Zhou Qing stood before the small house he had bought in this county town all those years ago, his heart filled with nostalgia.

This place held countless memories for him. He remembered how his master had brought him out of the small village devastated by plague, and before long, he had settled here.

He had lived here for several years, marking the beginning of his path in the Dao, the sweat of his daily arduous practice still lingering in his mind. This was the origin of his life, the cradle of his hopes.

Standing before the tightly shut door of his old home, Zhou Qing was overwhelmed with emotion. Just as he was silently reflecting, a woman dressed in a plain-colored gown emerged from the courtyard next door.

Because Zhou Qing’s bright red robe was so conspicuous, the moment she stepped outside, she spotted him immediately.

“Are you Daoist Li?” the woman called out.

Zhou Qing turned toward the voice, and after exchanging a glance, he realized he did not recognize her.

What puzzled him more was that the house the woman had come out of was once occupied by the Lin family. Why was she here now? And how did she know him?

“I am Daoist Li Da Wa. Sister, do you know me?” Zhou Qing asked cautiously, addressing her as “sister” since she appeared to be in her early thirties.

“Li Da Wa—that’s the name. I don’t know you personally, but the original owners of this house, the Lin family, did. When they left Jinling County, they gave me a key and told me…”

From the woman’s explanation, Zhou Qing learned that the Lin family had moved away.

Five years ago, Lin Fei’er married into a neighboring county. As an only child, she brought her parents along after her marriage.

The woman before him had bought this house four years ago and had been living here since. When the Lin family sold her the house, they had also explained matters concerning Zhou Qing.

“Wait here, Daoist Li. I’ll get the key for you.”

After roughly outlining the situation, the woman went inside and soon returned with a key in hand.

“Thank you very much, sister.”

Taking the key, Zhou Qing expressed his gratitude and returned to his old home, unlocking the door.

Pushing open the door and stepping into the courtyard, he found it much as he had left it, save for many weeds sprouting across the front yard.

Passing through the courtyard to the attic, he saw thick layers of dust covering the floor, chairs, and tables, with spider webs clinging to the wooden windows and beams.

It was clear that no one had entered this house for a very long time.

Though dusty and neglected, the furnishings remained as they had been when Zhou Qing left.

After wandering through the upper and lower floors once more, Zhou Qing left his old home and Jinling County behind, heading toward Dongguo Town.

His return to the Tianyue Kingdom had two main purposes: one was to revisit the Wildmen’s Forest he had been to before, and the other was to go to Dongguo Town.

Jinling County and Dongguo Town were only a little over a hundred miles apart. At Zhou Qing’s speed, it took less than an hour for him to appear at the edge of the small town.

“Master, you led me into the Dao and bestowed upon me a great destiny. Back then, I was too weak to avenge you. Today, I will resolve the matter that has weighed on my heart for so many years, giving both you and myself closure.”

Standing at the town’s edge, Zhou Qing murmured to himself as he gazed distantly at a mountain peak nearby.

...

Night fell, and on a mountain trail leading to the summit of Qingcheng Mountain, Zhou Qing, clad in a red robe, moved upward like a ghostly figure.

Soon, he stopped at the mountain’s peak, where a sizeable temple stood not far away.

Above the temple’s tightly closed wooden gate hung a square wooden plaque inscribed with the three golden characters “Xumi Temple.”

Glancing at the plaque, Zhou Qing waved his hand in the air. A surge of fierce energy, condensed from spiritual power, blasted the plaque, shattering it into splinters that fell to the ground.

As the plaque fell, Zhou Qing gestured again, sending a gust of energy toward the temple’s closed wooden door. With a loud crash, the door was smashed to pieces.

From behind the broken door, a figure emerged. At first sight, Zhou Qing felt a flicker of unease.

He sensed a faint ghostly aura from this person, yet the figure was not a malevolent spirit but a tangible human being whose ghost aura emanated from within.

The man was a bald-headed Daoist, wearing a deep blue robe, a large string of prayer beads around his neck, and wielding an iron staff.

After this bald Daoist appeared, several more bald-headed priests quickly emerged from the temple one after another.

One by one, twelve such priests gathered before the temple gate, all carrying iron staffs.

Each of them exuded that same faint ghostly aura.

“You wretched fiend! How dare you trespass into Xumi Temple? If you value your life, leave the mountain now while you still can.”

One of the twelve stepped forward, staff in hand, addressing Zhou Qing with a threatening tone.

Naturally, Zhou Qing was displeased by this. Although he had smashed the temple’s plaque and door, these men were still priests.

To be called “wretched fiend” so bluntly, with such menace in their voices, it was clear they were no righteous cultivators.

Zhou Qing had known this for years; if Xumi Temple were truly orthodox, it would not have made contracts with those who came to pray.

“Baldy, don’t be so arrogant. If you think you can take my life, then by all means, try.”

He replied coldly, waving his hand as a wave of invisible fierce energy shot toward the boastful priest.

As the energy neared, the priest met it with his iron staff. Silently, the energy pushed the priest into a corner of the wall, and it was only with the help of the other priests that they managed to disperse the attack.