Lin Feng had never imagined that someone would one day build a shrine and worship him while he was still alive. The name was not his, but he knew that if this continued, either some unknown being would hijack that worship, or the offerings would eventually reach him.
Judging by the current situation, there was little chance of something else impersonating him.
The most likely possibility was that Li Gao would stumble into making actual contact with him.
This was a Living Shrine.
Everyone knew that.
Historically, people who had Living Shrines built for them rarely came to a good end.
Still, Lin Feng was not sure whether he even counted as human anymore, so he could not say whether being worshipped was good or bad.
He did not like the feeling of being worshipped.
Accepting someone's food or gifts left you beholden to them. Even the Gods of the Qin and Han periods, domineering and unreasonable as they were, had to abide by contracts.
They accepted payment and did the work.
That applied all the more to later Gods. Once they entered the system, Ordained Taoists could order them around, and eminent figures of the Buddhist Order could take them as mounts or Dharma Protectors. Even when respect was shown, it was reserved for the higher-ups. Everyone treated the errand runners at the bottom much the same way.
And so.
He chose to refuse their sustenance and fend for himself.
No paycheck, no work.
After dancing all night, Lin Feng had not shed a single drop of blood.
He had felt the benefits of Ritual Incense.
Today, force-four winds had blown through the outskirts of Fog City, all heading toward Lin Feng's courtyard.
After the wind came the moonlight.
Over those dozen-odd hours, Lin Feng had not wasted a