The Double Ninth Festival, year 482 of Ming.
The lights on Mount Jiuyi had not gone out for seven or eight days, burning brightly every night. Banners flew everywhere, and people thronged every corner. On the Double Ninth Festival itself, the bustle only grew, everyone hurrying about with the final preparations.
After midnight that day, everything was ready. Everyone involved in the preparations withdrew from the Imperial Temple Gardens and waited quietly for the sacrificial ceremony to begin.
"Thank you for all your hard work, Scripture Master, Daoist Song."
Everyone was resting for the moment in Chongsheng Garden, west of the Imperial Temple, where Deng Qingyang thanked Cheng Xinzhan repeatedly. Neighbors from all around would attend this ancestral ceremony, with guests coming from as far north as Wudang, as far south as Luofu, and as far east as Kuaiji. If they botched an occasion of this scale or made fools of themselves, they would lose every last shred of face. Deng Qingyang truly felt unequal to the task. Even being told to take his sword up Rotten Peach Mountain would not have put him under such pressure. Fortunately, they had invited Master Guangfa this time, and Scripture Master Guangfa had brought Daoist Song from Gezao Mountain. With these two overseeing matters, everything had proceeded in good order despite the tight schedule, and nothing had gone wrong.
Cheng Xinzhan smiled and waved a hand.
"It is our honor to contribute to the ceremony."
"Indeed, indeed."
Song Jishu bobbed his head in agreement beside him. He warmed to people readily and had never been shy around strangers. Coming from a great sect, he was bold as well. He had known Deng Qingyang for only a few days, yet he already dared joke with this taciturn Fourth Realm swordsman.
"Say, Sect Master Deng,