"Is that Erlang Zhenjun?"
Looking at the stone divine statue, Wang Tianzuo's face was full of doubt.
"Maybe some ignorant commoners cobbled it together long ago."
Sha LiFei answered perfunctorily, then signaled Lu San with his eyes.
This matter was far too serious. It involved Jiang God Great Lord, descended immortals and gods, and even Erlang Zhenjun. The cause and effect were complicated.
Wang Tianzuo was a reliable friend, but he was ultimately a member of the Yellow Mausoleum Sect. To prevent accidents, they naturally could not speak recklessly.
Thinking of this, Sha LiFei glanced around and changed the subject. "Search carefully and see if you can find any clues."
By now, the sky was bright. Half the roof of the ruined main hall was still missing, and sunlight poured in, making everything inside perfectly clear.
From the looks of it, this was merely an ordinary temple.
The temple gate was mottled, its vermilion paint peeling away. Inside, the halls had collapsed, the beams and pillars leaned crookedly, the murals were mottled and faded, and cobwebs covered everything.
Yet there were also a few anomalies, visible at a glance.
The dilapidated stone incense burner was packed with densely clustered, multicolored sticks—some red, some yellow—all bearing scorch marks at their tips.
This was a relatively high-grade incense, which meant someone had been worshiping here for years. Yet no one maintained this cold temple and ruined altar, which was rather strange.
"It should be Old Brother Lu..."
Wang Tianzuo looked at the fallen statue, his eyes filled with confusion. "They don't even maintain the divine statue. Who comes to worship in a place like this?"
"They aren't worshiping a god."
Lu San seemed thoughtful. He stepped forward and lifted a broken plank, revealing a small stone stele.
Bai Cheng, Zhou Yuanhai, Qin