Me, the Celestial Master?

A night owl's cry pierced the thick fog. Zhang Xuan was jolted awake by sheer pain.

"Hiss—what bastard pinched my philtrum!"

He flopped on the bamboo mat like a fish out of water, clutching the burning spot above his lip as he rolled from side to side.

As he thrashed around, he noticed a man standing beside the bed, roughly thirty years old, with a drooping mustache.

The man wore a dark blue Daoist robe washed so often it had faded, but the dragons embroidered in gold thread along its collar and cuffs lent the shabby garment a rather different air.

"Little Six, you're finally awake!" The owner of the robe leaned closer, twirling his mustache. His features relaxed into an expression of unmistakable delight.

Despite the man's enthusiasm, Zhang Xuan had no friendly look to spare for the Daoist who had so viciously pinched him.

"Who are you?"

As he spoke, Zhang Xuan tightened his grip on the thin quilt covering him and cautiously surveyed the room out of the corner of his eye.

This room... something's wrong.

The bamboo mat was coarse, the bronze lamp cast a dim yellow glow, and the elmwood desk beside him was heavy and old-fashioned. Yellowed, worn thread-bound books lay on it, with an inkstone and writing brushes neatly arranged—every furnishing carried an indescribable air of antiquity.

"Are they filming a TV drama?" Zhang Xuan murmured.

Wait, what's a TV drama?

The term made his heart skip, as though it had touched some deeply buried nerve. Yet when he tried to think about it, he could grasp no concrete memories.

"Little Six, it's me! Your third senior brother, Jiang Jiu—the one who cares about you most and dotes on you most!" The mustached man put particular emphasis on both instances of "most."

Before Zhang Xuan could sort out his thoughts, Jiang Jiu reached over and pulled him out of bed without allowing any argument.

His voice was urgent. "Sixth Junior Brother, I know losing your cultivation damaged your spiritual awareness, and your head must still be muddled. But there's no time to let you recover slowly. Something terrible has happened—our master is dead!"

"Lost my cultivation? Master? So I have a master?" Zhang Xuan murmured, his mind a jumble.

He tried to recall something about this "master," only to find his memories shrouded in a thick layer of fog, impossible to grasp.

And so, with his mind still in chaos, Zhang Xuan was dragged out of the room by Jiang Jiu.

But the moment he stepped outside, a chilling cold shot straight up from his tailbone. Zhang Xuan shuddered instinctively, swept his gaze around, and froze.

The place where he lived appeared to be a Daoist temple, yet barely a dozen meters to the west lay a desolate burial ground!

Weeds grew thick among the grave mounds. Withered yellow grasses swayed in the wind, rustling softly.

The sight made Zhang Xuan's heart tighten, and his gaze toward Jiang Jiu grew more guarded.

—Seriously, what respectable Daoist temple gets built beside a burial ground?

Jiang Jiu seemed not to notice anything amiss. He merely hurried onward, his head lowered and his expression anxious. Zhang Xuan hesitated for a moment before following, deliberately keeping some distance between them, just in case.

Moonlight filtered through the treetops in scattered patches. The temple was built against a mountainside, surrounded by towering ancient trees, but at night, it had an indescribably sinister air.

Soon, a tall yet old and solemn hall came into view. An antique plaque hung above its main entrance, bearing three large gilded characters: "Celestial Master Hall."

As he entered, the dim light made Zhang Xuan narrow his eyes. A few flickering oil lamps cast feeble light from the corners, and the air was thick with incense and the smell of rotting wood.

There were no statues of the Three Pure Ones enshrined inside, only a massive altar crowded with memorial tablets. Three meditation cushions sat before it, and a stooped, white-haired old man knelt on the one in the center.

With the old man's back to him, Zhang Xuan could not see his face.

Quite a few people had already gathered in the hall. Zhang Xuan took a quick look: besides the kneeling old man, himself, and his third senior brother Jiang Jiu, there were four others.

After entering, Jiang Jiu pulled Zhang Xuan into an inconspicuous corner.

Then he whispered to Zhang Xuan, "Little Six, I know your spiritual awareness is unsettled right now, and you've probably forgotten a great deal. If you have any questions, just ask me."

Zhang Xuan glanced over the others and asked cautiously, "Who... are they?"

Jiang Jiu stroked the two ends of his mustache and pointed at the old man on the cushion. "The one on the cushion is our master, Zhang Jingzhi, the thirteenth Celestial Master of the Celestial Master's Mansion."

"Zhang Jingzhi." Zhang Xuan silently repeated the name, then suddenly realized something, his expression changing in alarm.

Wait, if that's Master, then the one kneeling on the cushion... is a corpse?

Zhang Xuan narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the old man's face, but it was too dark to see anything.

Seeing this, Jiang Jiu raised his hand and gave a low cry: "[Thunder Guiding]!"

A flash of electricity burst from his fingertip, lighting two enormous white candles. Their flames flared, and Zhang Xuan finally saw the old man's face—his features were hideously contorted, with black blood seeping from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. The sight of his death was utterly horrifying.

"Holy shit!" Zhang Xuan cried, hastily retreating.

"Jumping at every little thing—where is your decorum!"

The man who had been half-kneeling before the old man to examine him rose and turned toward Zhang Xuan, displeasure in his eyes.

Noticing the confusion in Zhang Xuan's gaze, Jiang Jiu quietly explained, "That's our second senior brother, Jian San."

Zhang Xuan's mouth twitched. What kind of names are these? Jiang Jiu? Jian San?

Still, it did not matter. None of this had anything to do with him anyway. He would simply watch from the sidelines.

Zhang Xuan knew his own limitations very well. With his memories completely gone, he only needed to stand off to the side and go, "Goo goo, ga ga."

Since Jiang Jiu had called him Sixth Junior Brother, he presumably ranked sixth, with five senior brothers above him. Even if the sky fell, it would not be his turn, as number six, to get involved.

Jian San's sword-sharp gaze slowly swept over everyone in the hall, and he spoke first...

"Master took his own life, and the Celestial Master's Mansion has abruptly lost its guiding pillar. Yet the seat of Celestial Master cannot remain vacant for even a day. Our eldest senior brother has not returned from his distant travels. As the second senior brother, I am duty-bound to shoulder this responsibility. Today, in the name of the Celestial Master's Mansion, I shall preside over the succession ceremony, appoint the worthy, carry on our late master's wishes, and safeguard the prosperity of our Daoist order."

The others in the hall wore varied expressions, but all tacitly remained silent.

With no one objecting, Jian San continued in a low voice, "Fellow disciples, there is no need for concern. Though Master departed by his own hand, he had already chosen the next Celestial Master while he lived."

"We need only follow Master's final wishes and respectfully welcome the new Celestial Master to his seat."

Although Zhang Xuan had decided from the outset to keep his eyes on his nose and his nose on his heart, staying out of everything, Jian San's words left him feeling as sick as if he had swallowed a rat...

—Suicide?

Are you kidding? A decrepit old man who barely had a few years left to live killed himself?

I've seen people rush to make it to a banquet, but who rushes to get reincarnated?

The old geezer on that cushion looks so agonized and twisted. This clearly wasn't suicide. Who kills himself in a way that makes him suffer that much before dying?

Why are these people in such a hurry to choose the next Celestial Master instead of investigating the cause of death properly?

An image surfaced in Zhang Xuan's mind...

A burly man surnamed Wu returned home to find his elder brother dead, blood flowing from all seven facial orifices. His sister-in-law lay sobbing beside the bed. "Brother-in-law, Dalang killed himself. My distant cousin, Master Ximen, can bear witness!"

—Who would believe that?

Seeing Zhang Xuan's face twisting, Jiang Jiu leaned his head closer. "Little Six, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

"Nothing. I just wondered why Second Senior Brother talks so formally," Zhang Xuan replied offhandedly. At the same time, his nostrils twitched, and he noticed a cool, fresh fragrance on Jiang Jiu, like pine resin.

"He's always been that way. Second Senior Brother earned scholarly honors before becoming Master's disciple. All those 'thus' and 'wherefore' never leave his lips. We've gotten used to it over the years."

They had been chatting perfectly normally when Zhang Xuan suddenly felt someone give him a forceful shove.

Thud, thud, thud. Zhang Xuan stumbled several steps forward, then looked back in surprise...

The person who had pushed him was none other than Jiang Jiu.

At that moment, Jian San fixed a burning gaze on Zhang Xuan, who had suddenly leaped out into the open, and drew his sword.

The chilling gleam of the three-foot blade sent a shiver through Zhang Xuan's heart. Come on, I only bad-mouthed you a little behind your back. Drawing a sword is taking it too far!

As though they had arranged it beforehand, the other disciples drew the swords at their waists as well. In an instant, cold light flashed throughout the hall, and sword shadows crisscrossed.

Under Zhang Xuan's deeply uneasy gaze, Jian San strode toward him. With each step, the blue bricks beneath his feet cracked into spiderweb patterns, and all the white candles in the hall flickered...

"Sixth Junior Brother, from this day forth, you shall be the new Celestial Master of our Celestial Master's Mansion. May you keep all living beings beneath heaven in your thoughts, carry on our late master's wishes, uphold the righteous path in your heart, and sweep every demon and evil spirit from this world!"

Faced with this spectacle, Zhang Xuan involuntarily swallowed. His heart, which had been hanging in suspense—finally gave up and died.

These bastards had been coming for him all along!