First Arrival at Azure Yang Temple

The next morning, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

A carriage, not particularly luxurious but spacious enough, slowly rolled out through the gates of the Zhao residence as the steward and a group of household servants saw it off.

Chen Fan leaned against the soft cushions, resting with his eyes closed.

The wheels rolled over the flagstones with a steady rumble.

He did not lift the curtain to look at the fearful or curious gazes outside.

The madness of last night, the three warm, soft bodies, the three utterly different women-all that remained in his mind now were hazy impressions.

There was no savoring the memory, nor any guilt.

He had simply been verifying his identity in the role of Zhao Long as quickly as possible.

Yes, that was it!

The carriage traveled for over two hours, and the ride gradually grew bumpier.

The wheels had left the main road and begun climbing a winding mountain path.

"Young master, we've reached the foot of West Mountain."

The driver's voice came from outside.

Chen Fan opened his eyes, pushed open the carriage door, and stepped down.

Zhang San and Li Si also jumped down from another carriage carrying the servants, holding the luggage that had long been packed.

Looking up, he saw a steep flight of stone steps winding upward and disappearing among the verdant trees.

Mist curled through the mountains, and halfway up the slope, the upturned corners of gray-blue eaves were faintly visible.

That was Azure Yang Temple.

"Wait at the foot of the mountain."

After giving the order, Chen Fan picked up a bundle himself and was the first to set foot on the stone steps.

Zhang San and Li Si hurried after him, wanting to share the load, but Chen Fan stopped them with a gesture.

He needed to experience this stretch of the journey for himself.

To feel just how feeble this body, hollowed out by wine and women, truly was.

The stone steps went on and on.

Less than fifteen minutes into the climb, Chen Fan was already panting, his legs growing weak.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, each beat carrying a dull weariness.

This was the body of a silkpants.

Gold and jade on the outside, rotten stuffing within.

Chen Fan's pace slowed, but he did not stop.

He needed strength.

In this world where human lives were thinner than paper, strength was the foundation, whether he wanted to live a better life or experience more lives.

And though the golden finger of "Death-Substitution Rebirth" was powerful, it was far too passive.

He could not always count on being killed to grow stronger.

Besides, the extreme pain of dying was unavoidable.

He was no masochist, seeking out suffering.

He had to possess strength of his own, strength he could wield of his own accord.

At last, the mountain gate came into sight.

It was a simple stone archway, carved with the words "Azure Yang Temple" in an archaic hand, bearing traces of erosion from wind and rain.

Two young Daoists in gray robes were leaning against the stone lions beside the gate, chatting with an air of utter boredom.

Only when they saw Chen Fan and his two companions approaching did they lazily straighten up.

One was tall and thin, with upturned eyes. He looked Chen Fan up and down, then curled his lip at the sight of Chen Fan's fine clothes.

"Who goes there?"

The other, slightly shorter Daoist spoke in a flat tone, though his gaze held a trace of condescending appraisal.

"Zhao Long."

Chen Fan gave his name, his breathing still somewhat unsteady.

"Zhao Long?"

The tall, thin Daoist snorted with laughter, as if he had heard the greatest joke in the world.

"So it's the county magistrate's eldest young master Zhao. I've long heard of your great name, long heard of it indeed."

He claimed to have long admired him, but made no attempt to hide the contempt and mockery on his face.

Who in all of Qinghe County didn't know what sort of creature Zhao Long was?

He bullied men and preyed on women, stopping at no evil.

And now he had actually come to their place of secluded cultivation?

He was truly soiling Azure Yang Temple's grounds.

"Martial Uncle Liu already told us about you."

The shorter Daoist spoke expressionlessly. "Young Master Zhao, was it? Follow me. The temple has its own rules; it's not your family's back garden. Put away that young-master temper of yours, or you'll suffer for it."

His words were full of admonition and warning.

Chen Fan said nothing.

He merely looked at the two of them calmly.

From Zhao Long's memories, he knew that petty characters like these were best at serving different dishes to different guests.

They were certain he was that willful, overbearing good-for-nothing, so they dared to act so brazenly.

They wanted to knock him down a peg.

"Carry your own luggage."

The tall, thin Daoist, Mingfeng, pointed at the bundles in the hands of Chen Fan and the servants behind him.

"Once you enter Azure Yang Temple, there are no young masters or servants, only disciples of the Dao."

"Fetching water, chopping firewood, washing clothes, and sweeping are all part of your duties."

He walked up to Chen Fan and deliberately bumped him with his shoulder.

There was little force behind it, but it was deeply insulting.

"Do you understand, Eldest Young Master Zhao?"

Mingfeng leaned closer and lowered his voice, full of malice.

Zhang San and Li Si's expressions changed instantly, and their hands went to the hilts of the sabers at their waists.

In Qinghe County, no one had ever dared treat their young master this way!

But Chen Fan raised a hand and stopped them.

He looked at Mingfeng, who was inches away, and suddenly smiled.

"My father is Zhao De, the magistrate of Qinghe County."

He spoke mildly, as though stating a fact.

Mingfeng froze for a moment, then sneered.

"I know. So what? Trying to use your father to pressure me? Let me tell you, this is Azure Yang Temple. The temple master and my master are on equal footing with your father! You're just a-"

Before he could finish,

Chen Fan's next words made the smile freeze on his face.

"My father told me yesterday that Azure Yang Temple receives three thousand taels of silver in incense money from the county office every year, for repairing the halls and making offerings to the Three Pure Ones."

Chen Fan tilted his head.

"He said it seems that money hasn't been approved yet this year."

The silence of the study descended upon the mountain gate in an instant.

The expressions on Mingfeng's and the shorter Daoist's faces froze.

Three thousand taels!

For an ordinary Daoist temple like theirs, that was a vast sum! It was the main source of their yearly expenses!

They had only remembered that Zhao Long was a silkpants and forgotten that this silkpants' father was the magistrate who held their lifeline in his hands!

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Mingfeng's voice was dry, all confidence gone.

"Nothing."

The smile vanished from Chen Fan's face, replaced by indifference.

"I just think this mountain path is too slippery, and the stone steps are too hard. If I accidentally fell and cracked my head open, then went home and told my father that the immortal masters of Azure Yang Temple hadn't taken proper care of me..."

He said no more.

But the threat was already so thick it could not be dissolved.

Zhang San and Li Si exchanged glances, each seeing shock on the other's face.

Was this... still their young master, who only knew how to fly into a rage and beat people?

Those words hid a hard edge beneath their softness and struck straight at the vital point. They were a hundred times more ruthless than simply beating someone!

Cold sweat beaded on Mingfeng's forehead.

He was only a minor outer disciple. If the temple lost its incense money because of him, the temple master would skin him alive!

"Y-Young Master Zhao..."

His back bent involuntarily.

"A misunderstanding, it's all a misunderstanding..."

"What misunderstanding?"

A booming voice came from inside the mountain gate.

A slightly plump, middle-aged Daoist in blue robes, sporting a goatee, strode out.

The moment he saw Chen Fan, his face blossomed into a chrysanthemum-like smile.

"Oh, if it isn't my worthy nephew Zhao! Why didn't you send someone to announce your arrival sooner? I could have come down the mountain to meet you!"

The newcomer was the Martial Uncle Liu from Zhao Long's memories, whose Daoist name was Xuanli.

He was also the "master" Zhao De had arranged for him at Azure Yang Temple.

He was a typical figure who attached himself to the powerful and was smooth in all dealings.

Daoist Xuanli came closer and saw at a glance that something was amiss.

He shot Mingfeng a vicious glare.

"You blind fool! Why aren't you apologizing to Young Master Zhao?"

Mingfeng shuddered in fright and hurriedly bowed with cupped hands to Chen Fan.

"Forgive me, young master! I had eyes but failed to recognize Mount Tai; a dog's mouth can't spit out ivory!"

Chen Fan did not even look at him.

He only looked at Daoist Xuanli.

"Martial Uncle Liu, is it?"

"I wouldn't presume, I wouldn't presume. Worthy nephew, just call me Daoist Master Xuanli." Daoist Xuanli's smile grew even more ingratiating.

"My father sent me to the mountain to cultivate in seclusion and temper my disposition."

Chen Fan spoke mildly.

"But why do I feel that the gates of Azure Yang Temple aren't so easy to enter?"

Daoist Xuanli's heart skipped a beat, and he cursed that fool Mingfeng inwardly.

He hurriedly assured him, "Rest easy, worthy nephew! No one in this temple will ever dare make you suffer the slightest grievance! As my disciple, you're just like a son to me!"

He turned and shouted sternly at Mingfeng and the other Daoist.

"Are your dog eyes blind? Hurry up and take Young Master Zhao's luggage to the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion!"

The Listening to Bamboo Pavilion was the temple's finest private courtyard, usually reserved for receiving honored guests.

Mingfeng and the other Daoist did not dare utter a word of nonsense. They snatched the luggage from Zhang San and Li Si and led the way, nodding and bowing.

An attempt to knock someone down a peg had turned into an utter farce in an instant.

Some Daoists nearby, drawn by the commotion, watched the scene with varied expressions.

There was contempt and jealousy, but more than anything, fear.

They finally understood that the newcomer was not a silkpants they could handle as they pleased, but a plague god they needed to serve with care.

Accompanied personally by Daoist Xuanli, Chen Fan entered Azure Yang Temple.

He looked straight ahead, paying no attention to the pointing and whispering around him.

In the end, this world valued strength.

A fist was strength.

Power and influence were strength as well.

He was Zhao Long now, so naturally he had to make good use of the advantages that identity brought.

"Worthy nephew, rest assured, I will certainly teach you every last bit of our school's supreme arts!"

Daoist Xuanli thumped his chest and made his solemn promise.

Chen Fan gave no indication of what he thought.

All he wanted was a way to gain access to the martial path.

As for whether this master was sincere or false, it did not matter at all.

Soon, the group arrived at the Listening to Bamboo Pavilion.

It was indeed a secluded and elegant courtyard, countless times better than the large shared rooms where ordinary disciples slept.

Xuanli gave a few more solicitous instructions and told Mingfeng and the other Daoist to stay and serve him before leaving, fully satisfied.

Only Chen Fan and the two trembling young Daoists remained in the courtyard.

"You two, bring me every text on martial arts in Azure Yang Temple."

Sitting on a stone stool, Chen Fan issued his first order.

"All of them?" Mingfeng froze.

"Yes, all of them."

Chen Fan picked up the teacup on the table and blew gently across it.

"Didn't you hear me?"

Mingfeng's face turned white in an instant.