Book 7: The Son of Heaven
Chapter 143: A Person in the Temple (Part 1)
The wind and snow had ceased.
Hearing that plain, unremarkable voice, Fan Xian’s pupils contracted sharply. He stared warily at the massive, scripture-like wooden door before him, unsure what kind of monster might emerge from within.
Yet, after a long, long time, the temple deep within the snow-capped mountains remained utterly silent. After answering Fan Xian’s reflexive, angry question, the voice inside the temple seemed to have fallen into a complex process of contemplation, sinking into silence.
Then, the extraordinarily large door in front of the temple silently cracked open. Despite its immense weight, the door made no sound as it opened, sending a chill down one’s spine. The door opened at a fifteen-degree angle, making it impossible to see the scenery inside from the front. Yet, this soundless opening seemed to signify an invitation from the temple’s occupant.
Fan Xian’s heart pounded violently at that moment, but he forcibly calmed it. Squinting at the shadow of the temple door, his face expressionless, he unexpectedly sat down slowly, right on the shallow snow covering the stone platform.
He had expected that, just like decades ago in the distant past, when Master Ku He was about to open the temple door, a black shadow would dart out like lightning, dealing the most devastating blow to them. Yet, the temple door had opened without the slightest movement. Could it be… that the person inside the temple also felt lonely, isolated, and cold? So much so that they eagerly awaited their arrival?
Treasure lay ahead, hell ahead, heaven ahead, and the snowy landscape ahead—all within reach. Yet, Fan Xian simply sat down, a faint, bitter smile on his lips, closed his eyes, and began to meditate intently.
Hai Tang and Wang Shisan Lang did not understand the conversation between the voice in the temple and Fan Xian. After all, this world had no concept of a “museum,” and they couldn’t comprehend why Fan Xian had chosen to sit down at this moment. Staring blankly at the open temple door, they nervously moved to Fan Xian’s side, drew their weapons, and began to guard him.
Hai Tang’s weapon was still the soft sword at her waist, while Wang Shisan Lang had somehow produced a wooden stick, resembling a hunter with sharp eyes fixed on the slightly ajar temple door.
The three of them remained silent on the snowy ground, guarding the temple entrance.
The spiritual energy between heaven and earth was exceptionally dense here, and Fan Xian,敏锐地察觉到了这一点 (shrewdly aware of this), closed his eyes and sat down. Before entering the temple, he needed to ensure he could move without hindrance. If they had to flee later, he wouldn’t drag down Hai Tang and Shisan Lang. Since the temple was before them and its door was open, having waited for tens of thousands of years, what was the rush?
After an indeterminate amount of time, Fan Xian slowly opened his eyes. The 36,000 pores of his body had greedily absorbed enough spiritual energy, repairing many of the wounds in his meridians. The accumulated true energy in the snow-capped mountains at the small of his back finally began to flow slowly.
His spirit had improved significantly, and he was now prepared to enter the temple.
Fan Xian’s gaze fell on the temple entrance, where Shisan Lang was also staring intently. Two crisp chirps were heard as a small, delicate bird emerged from the temple door, calling out to the three tense figures outside.
The bird was entirely emerald green, exquisitely beautiful, and radiated a sense of purity. The three outside the temple were taken aback. They hadn’t expected the temple’s greeter to be a bird rather than some demon or immortal general.
The bluebird diligently came to greet them.
“Let’s go,” Hai Tang said, her heart trembling slightly at the sight of the beautiful bluebird. Almost instinctively, she helped Fan Xian up from the snowy ground.
Fan Xian, now in much better spirits, pondered for a moment before saying, “Let’s enter.”
…
One temple, one world. Beyond the door lay another realm. However, contrary to popular imagination, the world behind the temple door was not a paradise of beauty and wonder. Nor did it match Hai Tang’s expectations. The bluebird chirped once and flew away, with no other lovely creatures coming to greet the weary travelers.
Inside the temple was yet another plaza—an immense one. Scattered around the plaza were massive structures, so tall that they were obscured by the outer black stone walls, invisible to those outside the snow-capped mountains.
The materials, architectural style, height, and breadth of these structures far surpassed anything achievable in the mortal world. On the walls along the pathway, faint traces of murals, now extremely dilapidated, could barely be discerned—faint lines and faded colors.
The three walked along the path inside the temple. Above them was a snowy sky, below a snowy ground. They felt as though the world around them remained as silent as ever, and the mythical scenes and landscapes surrounding them seemed unreal.
Like three small black dots, they moved silently along the path. The voice from the temple did not speak again, as if the temple’s occupant cared not where they came from nor bothered to guide them on where to go.
Thus, the three walked silently and casually along the temple’s pathways, their eyes calmly observing the passing architectural eaves and massive stone platforms. Though they appeared calm and nonchalant, their hearts were already roiling with shock and awe. After all, this was the interior of the temple—a place no one in this world had ever entered. The land of legends and myths had finally revealed itself before them. Beneath their composed exteriors, what complex emotions were Hai Tang Duoduo and Wang Shisan Lang suppressing?
Decades ago, Ku He and Xiao En had only encountered the black shadow and the young immortal girl outside the temple gates. But Fan Xian and his companions had truly stepped inside the temple.
Fan Xian had to stay calm, because he had vaguely guessed the origins of the Divine Temple from his exchange with the voice inside. His gaze lingered on the remnants of murals along the passageway. The paint had peeled off severely, making it impossible to discern the specific details depicted. The secrets of history seemed to be hidden within these paintings, yet Fan Xian easily noticed familiar traces in the surviving lines.
Just as the architectural style of the Divine Temple had influenced the black-and-blue imperial palace in Shangjing, the style of the temple’s murals seemed to share the same lineage as that of Qing Temple and even the lacquered paintings in establishments like One Stone Inn. It appeared that the Divine Temple had stood for countless millennia. Although it did not intervene in worldly affairs, it had always exerted a subtle influence on the world.
The wind and snow inside the Divine Temple were much lighter than outside the walls. By now, the storm had long ceased, leaving only a thin layer of powdery snow on the passageway. The footprints of Fan Xian and his two companions were clearly imprinted on it, forming a solitary line that stretched deep into the temple.
Along the way, they saw only dilapidated buildings on the verge of collapse and desolate, uninhabited wilderness. This place was not a celestial realm or a divine domain. Just as the Emperor and Uncle Wu Zhu had said, it was merely a ruined land.
Fan Xian withdrew his gaze from the footprints in the snow and, after a moment of contemplation, continued leading Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang forward. Since entering the snow plains, he had become the leader of the trio. Although his injuries had not yet healed and illness had struck again, Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang faintly sensed that Fan Xian possessed knowledge in certain areas that surpassed most people in the world.
Ahead, the small, agile, and beautiful blue bird was still cooing, appearing and disappearing intermittently, guiding the three young experts who had come to worship at the temple. They tread on the thin snow, accompanied by solitude and silence.
Having roughly confirmed the boundaries of the temple’s internal structures—a flattened rectangle—the three unknowingly arrived at the very center of the Divine Temple.
At the center stood a platform, behind which was the best-preserved building. Although signs of time’s passage were still visible on its exterior, with gradually weathering edges of the stones bearing witness to the mercilessness of heaven and earth, this building had ultimately not collapsed.
They had not seen a single person or a传说中的 temple envoy all the way here. Only the blue bird flew about, now landing on the stone platform covered with thin snow.
Fan Xian frowned slightly, noticing that the blue bird left no footprints on the snow. The absence of temple envoys and the silence of the voice confirmed another fact for him.
Perhaps due to some inexplicable intuition, Fan Xian and the other two halted before this stone platform. They gazed silently at the blue bird on the snowy platform, as if waiting for it to transform into a flower or bring back a blossom in its beak.
After an indeterminable wait, the oppressive quiet within the temple remained utterly unchanged, as did Fan Xian’s posture. His body was slightly hunched, yet his heart trembled faintly. The traces of structures they had passed along the way had actually made him quite nervous, for he vaguely sensed that those buildings were remnants of a civilization from countless years ago, perhaps connected in some way to the world of his previous life.
“There’s no danger in the temple. Those temple envoys are probably all dead,” Fan Xian’s hoarse voice suddenly shattered the silence that had persisted within the temple for countless years. The blue bird on the snowy platform turned its head and glanced at him.
Fan Xian’s sudden speech startled Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang beside him. Since entering the Divine Temple, their emotions had been overwhelmed by the unprecedented, never-before-seen colossal ruins and the seemingly spiritual little blue bird. They had long lost the calm judgment they possessed in the mortal world, feeling somewhat bewildered.
“All dead?” Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang subconsciously repeated Fan Xian’s words but could not possibly agree with his assessment. No danger in the temple? A place so elusive it existed only in myths and legends had suddenly appeared before their eyes. Who could assert such a judgment as firmly as Fan Xian?
Hai Tang looked at the blue bird on the snowy platform, her face slightly pale, and said in a trembling voice, “Even if it’s a dilapidated celestial realm, it is still a celestial realm. The paths of heaven and men differ; we must hold reverence in our hearts.”
The naive disciples of the Tianyi Dao had a deep-seated worship of the Divine Temple ingrained in their bones. None of the successors of the Qing Mountain lineage, including Hai Tang, had inherited the most formidable spirit of Master Ku He. Facing the Divine Temple and entering it, people of the world would subconsciously perceive themselves as much weaker.
“What is there to revere?” Fan Xian did not voice these words but thought them fiercely in his heart. Uncle Wu Zhu had said that there were hardly any people left at home. One died in the alley outside the mansion, another died when his mother passed away, and the temple had lost one as well. Given that they had entered this far without encountering any temple envoys, it was certain that this broken temple was merely a wasteland.
The Divine Temple was not a celestial realm but a relic. Confirming this fact, Fan Xian felt no more fear or trepidation. He narrowed his eyes, watching the blue bird on the snowy platform, and suddenly spoke: “It seems… the envoys are dead, the immortals of the temple have long departed, leaving only this celestial bird. Let’s look around casually, then head back.”
Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang looked at Fan Xian in disbelief. Their minds were too unsettled to detect the lie in his words. Of course, this was also because of the faint yet persistent disappointment and sorrow on Fan Xian’s pale face—his acting was too masterful.
“Blind…” Hai Tang intended to say that if the temple was truly so desolate and ruined, with no supreme existence beyond the six harmonies, why not try to find Wu Zhu’s whereabouts instead of returning empty-handed? Wang Shisanlang, his muscles tense, did not know how to face this vast, empty, and desolate temple. After enduring so many hardships to cross the snow plains and reach this place, how could he be willing to turn back just like that?
Fan Xian coughed twice urgently, cutting off Hai Tang’s question. He stared fixedly at the blue bird on the snowy platform—everything in the world required a reason. Since the Divine Temple was merely a relic of civilization, a museum, the voice in this great temple must have summoned the three of them for a purpose.
As Fan Xian had anticipated, the blue bird on the snowy platform suddenly cooed twice, fluttered its wings, and flew toward the hazy sky. However, it only rose about ten zhang high before vanishing with a swift sound, dissipating into countless points of light in the air!
Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang shuddered, swiftly moving closer to Fan Xian to protect him, terrified that the sudden change in the temple might kill Fan Xian, the most vulnerable among them.
But Fan Xian was not afraid at all. He merely narrowed his eyes and coldly watched the specks of light slowly descending in the air. These points of light descended to mid-air above the snowy platform and began to coalesce, like countless fireflies on a summer night, arranging themselves into a certain form due to some mysterious reason…
The points of light gradually brightened, then dimmed, revealing a gradually clarifying human figure in the air. The lines became increasingly clear: the flowing clouds at the sleeves, the black-gold jade belt at the waist, the upturned ceremonial shoes on the feet.
An elderly man in ancient, wide-sleeved robes thus appeared in mid-air. His facial features were indistinct, but his presence was unmistakable. His feet did not touch the snowy platform; instead, he floated in the air. Though he was clearly there, Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang could not sense any breath, heartbeat, or even his presence!
Floating in the air as if about to depart with the wind, his wide sleeves fluttered gently above the snowy platform. A faint, azure light enveloped the old man’s entire body.
This scene stunned the three people in front of the snowy platform. To float in the air and emit golden light—what level of cultivation was this? No, this was no mere cultivation; it was clearly divine magic! Aside from an immortal of the Divine Temple, who else could appear before mortals in such a worship-inspiring manner?
Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang, their eyes filled with bewilderment, looked at this scene they could not comprehend no matter what. They naturally associated this entity formed from the blue bird with the legendary immortal of the Divine Temple. Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, and they instinctively knelt, prostrating themselves sincerely toward the snowy ground.
Fan Xian also bowed low, his knees sinking into the thin, soft snow. His body began to tremble, like an ordinary man caught in overwhelming excitement, unable to extricate himself.
No one could explain the scene before them. Even the civilization from Fan Xian's previous life could not create such a miraculous phenomenon. The immortal on the snow platform, glowing with a radiant light and hovering in mid-air, appeared so real, truly like a deity.
However, most of Fan Xian's excitement and fear was feigned. He forced himself to calm down, his mind racing as he analyzed the immortal before him. If this temple was a museum, and as the temple dweller had said, a military museum at that, how could there be an immortal?
If it wasn't an immortal, then what could it be? Having lived two lives, Fan Xian had never taxed his brain cells as much as he did today. His head slightly lowered, he pondered frantically. Could it be... the holographic images he had heard of in his previous life?
Fan Xian did not throw a handful of snow to see if it would pass through the immortal's body. But once he had formed a hypothesis in his heart, his fear naturally diminished considerably. Like Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang, he knelt sincerely before the snow platform.
"Northern Qi's Tianyi Way, Hai Tang, pays respects to the immortal," Hai Tang Duoduo said, her voice trembling. She believed that the temple immortal must know of the Green Mountain lineage, the Tianyi sect, which worshipped the temple and spread its benevolent teachings.
"Dongyi City's Sword Cottage, Wang Shisanlang," Wang Shisanlang's voice sounded somewhat strange, likely because this valiant warrior was finally disoriented by today's psychological impact.
"Southern Qing, Fan Xian," Fan Xian did not conceal his real name. The previous temple envoy had descended into the world and died at the hands of Uncle Wuzhu due to the emperor's ruthless methods. Presumably, the temple was unaware of his relationship with Ye Qingmei.
He was now only thinking: Why has the temple opened its doors to the three of them? If the temple has been impersonating deities in this world's myths and legends for countless years, then it would likely continue the act today. To play the part of an immortal, one must be exceedingly pretentious, putting on enough airs to intimidate people like Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang. If they didn't speak first, the temple probably wouldn't respond.
"The three of us have come from the south..." Fan Xian began in a hoarse voice, recounting the hardships of the snowy plains to prove their determination and their reverence and longing for the temple. Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang finally snapped out of their daze, realizing that Fan Xian was lying. They were greatly shocked, thinking that an immortal, with a single thought, would know truth from falsehood. To lie before an immortal—Fan Xian was far too audacious.
"You are beings of this world, the pitied and watched children of the great Temple. The icy, snowy path has proven your resolve. Any doubts you have require the guidance of light, and that light is now before you."
The immortal, transformed from the Azure Bird, finally spoke. There was not a trace of emotion in its voice, yet strangely, it wasn't cold but rather carried a warm and amiable feeling.
The immortal's voice echoed within the vast, empty temple, buzzing and resonating. It was impossible to tell whether the sound came from the immortal's lips or from all directions between heaven and earth.
The miraculous display in that statement further solidified Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang's judgment that this was indeed an immortal. However, Fan Xian sneered inwardly, thinking it was merely an upgraded version of a loudspeaker.
Light is before us, guidance is needed? The people of the world suffer greatly; if they have doubts, they can seek help from the immortal in the temple? And so, Fan Xian naturally spoke up.
"Supreme Immortal, we wish to know... who we are, where we come from, and where we are going."
They had come from the south, reached the temple—but where would they go? Who could know? The Azure Bird had led them before the stone platform but could not answer this convoluted philosophical question. Upon hearing Fan Xian's three questions, the immortal fell silent. The robes fluttering in the cold air suddenly stiffened, not a single tremor remaining.
Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang didn't understand why Fan Xian asked these three questions. Meanwhile, Fan Xian slowly rose to his feet, his eyes exceptionally calm and cold as he watched the silent immortal. Through careful observation of the details, he finally confirmed his judgment.
"You are you. You come from whence you came, and go to where you will go."
The immortal's robes began to flutter again, its voice still as warm, its answer as mystical as ever. To Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang's ears, this answer was pleasing, and likely to anyone's ears, it would sound wonderfully profound.
Yet, this was precisely the kind of response Fan Xian had wanted. He calmly stared directly at the luminous figure floating in mid-air, thinking to himself: It took such a long time to search the database. It seems the Temple's energy is truly nearly depleted.
Clearly, the immortal showed no anger at Fan Xian standing straight and looking at it so disrespectfully. Amid the glow, it gazed gently at Fan Xian.
"That is not the answer I want," Fan Xian said.
"An answer is merely an answer. The need for it is ultimately a matter of the heart," the Temple immortal's reply was still full of that charlatan flair.
After a moment of silence, Fan Xian said, "I wish to know the Temple's past."
The immortal fell silent again, the light enveloping its robes instantly dimming considerably. Fan Xian stared unblinkingly at this glow, silently praying inwardly: If you are truly a holographic image, if you are truly just a guide for this museum, then fulfill your mission and narrate this long-lost history.
If someone truly could enter the legendary Temple, what they might ask for could be the art of making gold, the secret to immortality, or those incredibly divine and peerless martial arts techniques. But Fan Xian was different. What he wanted most was to know the Temple's history. Outside the temple gates, he had once blurted out the word "museum." Yet, it was clear that the person in the Temple had not guessed from those three words that within Fan Xian resided a soul faintly connected to his own.
The immortal's robes remained stiff for a very, very long time, the glow dimming much, much more. Perhaps those human-like thoughts swirling within the points of light were weighing some kind of permission for access.