Worshiping a God, Entrusting a Thought, Dreaming into a Temple

The question came rather suddenly. Chen Cuo was a little surprised, but he nodded honestly.

"Yes." He had no intention of hiding it and spoke frankly. "I won't expect to learn for nothing." He pointed to the book. "I know a little about the Incense Method too. Brother Pig learned from that Temple Dragon King..."

"Daoist Friend!" Little Pig stressed. "The old dragon is our Daoist Friend. Granted, that puts him in fine company—I'm no ordinary figure, after all. If I hadn't seen how miserable he was..." Its voice gradually sank.

Chen Cuo understood. "You two established your path through a temple in the mortal world. Without it, you have nowhere for worshippers to make offerings. You can only wander from place to place, searching everywhere for incense to consume. That must be inconvenient."

"Does that mean you're willing to build us a temple and make us clay statues?" Little Pig perked up at once.

Chen Cuo nodded. "My household has some money, but rites of worship are affairs of state. Building a temple privately would be illicit worship. I can't establish a proper temple, only set up memorial tablets at home."

"That's enough!" Little Pig nodded. "We aren't picky eaters!" Then it added, "But I can tell you're a person of standing. When you become a high official with hundreds under your command, remember to get us a big temple!"

"I have a title but no power. What sort of person of standing does that make me?" Chen Cuo shook his head. "Besides, even if I held power in my hands one day, sooner or later I'd be a handful of yellow earth. What would be the point? I'd rather seek immortality and the Dao, and live long enough to see the ages pass. So I'm afraid that temple won't be built anytime soon. I can't promise it."

"Hmph! At least you're honest." Little Pig snorted twice.

Chen Cuo laughed. "I am a county marquis, after all. I can't speak for the future, but for now, I can certainly see that Brother Pig and Brother Turtle have fresh soup every day, and chicken and mutton at every meal."

"What appeal does a mere craving of the tongue hold? If you hadn't had it sent over, I wouldn't have touched it! Build us a temple and give us clay statues—that would be more like it." Little Pig snorted twice, then asked, "Do you want to know right now?"

Naturally, Chen Cuo did not refuse.

Little Turtle made a series of squeaking, gurgling sounds.

"Who do you take me for? Of course I wouldn't scheme against him! What does he have worth scheming for? Hmph!" Little White Pig immediately shook its head like a rattle-drum, then said quietly, "Besides, passing the teaching on to others was his wish too. Teaching one person or two makes no difference. Whether he succeeds depends on him, not on us."

Little Turtle squeaked and gurgled a few more times.

Little Pig nodded, glanced at Chen Cuo, and tossed its head. "Go sit on the bed."

Chen Cuo flicked his sleeves, sprang up, and landed on the bed cross-legged.

Little Pig was somewhat surprised. "You don't waste time. Aren't you afraid I might have bad intentions?"

"I said I'd set up your tablets, and I will. If I treat you with sincerity, why should I worry?" Chen Cuo's smile did not change. "Besides, I have some methods of my own that I meant to compare with yours."

"Snort! You humans have so many twists and turns in your heads!" Little Pig said as it came to the bedside. "I mastered the Visualization and Deity Establishment Method without a teacher, as though heaven itself bestowed it on me. You could never match that talent. How could I explain it clearly with words alone? Better that I bow to you and send over a thought carried by incense. Then you'll understand."

"You can do that?" Chen Cuo's eyes lit up. He cupped his hands toward Little Pig. "Sorry for the trouble, Brother Pig."

Little Pig's mouth drooped. It sighed reluctantly, then pressed its head to the floor and began snuffling.

The sight was strange indeed. If someone like Chen Hai had walked in just then, he would likely have panicked on the spot. Chen Cuo, however, found it rather amusing and was about to ask another question or two when his heart suddenly jolted. Dizziness swept over him, and fatigue slowly set in.

Through the haze, the scene before his eyes abruptly changed!

A murmuring stream appeared before him, flowing into the distance. Then a rain of blood fell, and a huge dragon's head struck the ground!

An old voice lingered by his ear.

"When I was young, incense offerings flourished at this temple. Everyone worshipped the River Dragon King, praying for peace and a good harvest. But in the end, that dragon king broke Heavenly Law and paid a visit to the Dragon-Skinning Terrace. Since then, no one has paid this river any mind. No deity has descended into this temple again. It's no use now. No use at all."

Hearing this, Chen Cuo turned toward the voice—

A little river ran past. Cobwebs and dust lay everywhere.

It was a dilapidated Dragon King Temple by the river.

Deep within the temple, behind an altar table, stood a clay statue.

Age had left the statue in ruins. Cracks covered it, its original paint had peeled away, and its features were no longer clear. Only the remnants of dragon horns could be made out atop its head.

Standing inside the temple and taking in the scene, Chen Cuo could not help feeling a touch of sorrow.

That feeling isn't mine. It came from outside and seeped into my heart.

With that thought, he discerned part of what was happening.

It's somewhat like what happened with Chen Fangqing. If that ghostly face hadn't awakened me, I might not be able to tell my own thoughts from those coming from outside even now...

Likewise, his experience in Dream Marsh told Chen Cuo that he had not truly come here. He had merely entered an illusion.

Suddenly, he heard voices.

Chen Cuo turned to look. Blurry figures came and went before his eyes, too indistinct to see clearly.

A thought stirred. He visualized the blue-and-purple painted face, and sure enough, the figures grew much clearer. Then scene after scene flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern—

Many mountain folk lived in settlements amid the woods. When they went fishing, hunting, or drawing water, some would enter the temple. Along with staying the night, they would bow to the clay statue;

Hunters from beyond the woods passed through as well. They would light a fire inside to roast their game, eat their fill, and offer up a little meat and blood as tribute;

Suddenly, something stirred in his heart. He turned toward the ruined clay statue. Its features were still indistinct, but its eyes gradually grew clear, and it seemed to look toward him.

Chen Cuo took the cue and bowed.

"Greetings, Daoist Friend," a voice sounded beside his ear.

Chen Cuo's heart gave a leap. When he looked again, a blurry figure had appeared beside him. It gave off a faint golden glow, but it had only an outline; within it was a jumble.

Taking a deep breath, Chen Cuo suppressed his confusion and surprise, then cupped his hands. "Greetings, Daoist Friend." He could sense no malice in the figure.

The blurry figure laughed. "No need for such courtesy. I have already perished. What remains is but a wisp of thought, sustained by the two little ones' remembrance. They wished for me to meet you here."

"Daoist Friend, you..." Chen Cuo was about to ask more.

But the blurry figure raised a hand and pointed outside the temple.

"Get inside!"

A dozen or so men and women in ragged clothes were shoved in. Three soldiers carrying blades followed them. All their faces were blurred.