Wen Daolun sized him up, stroking his long beard. "Very well. In a moment, you two may ride back in my carriage."
That was his agreement.
The two then stood off to the side, waiting for the formalities to conclude.
Wen Daolun had to burn through all seven tall incense sticks before he could leave. By then, the commoners' offerings and sweepings would be nearly finished as well.
He Lingchuan asked his companion in a low whisper, "Why does Wen Daolun owe you a favor?"
"He occasionally visits Shumin Academy."
"...To teach children?" After all, he was one of Commander Zhong's trusted confidants—why would he have nothing better to do than watch over a flock of chirping fledglings?
"We teach more than just children." Shumin Academy was the finest official school in Panlong City, after all. Sun Fuling smiled. "He came to play weiqi with an old friend—namely, my mentor, Xu Shichu. Two months ago, he came by again while Master was away, so I played a few games with him.
"Master Wen said that if I won, he'd owe me a favor. And so..." She shrugged. "Best two out of three."
"You used such a precious favor on me?" He Lingchuan was touched.
"Favors multiply the more you use them; they don't just disappear once spent." Sun Fuling shot him a sideways glance. "Now it's your turn to owe me."
"Easy enough." He thumped his chest. "Whenever you want it, just say the word."
With nothing to do, He Lingchuan strolled over to the edge of the God-Descending Platform and peered down.
Good grief. The cliff face was charred pitch-black, with occasional sparks of lightning still dancing across the rock. Plants must have once grown upon these crags, but after three strikes of heavenly thunder, nothing remained—it was stark and bare.
He Lingchuan also spotted lightning scorch marks on some of the rocks, though they looked quite old.
"I heard the sacrificial prayer just now—the gods brought down thunderbolts to claim the sacrifice." He Lingchuan pointed beneath his feet. "Was this caused by the lightning back then?" Even solid stone had melted; no living thing could have survived.
"Yes. Aside from divine power, who else could achieve such a feat?" Sun Fuling said softly. "When those thunderbolts struck down, what they gave us—besides terror—was precious confidence."
"Because the gods are on our side?"
"Of course." Sun Fuling sighed. "You weren't in Panlong City back then, so you don't know how demoralized and despairing everyone was... We were cast aside by our motherland like a worn-out shoe once again. Even Commander Zhong fell gravely ill from sheer fury."
After Panlong City became an enclave, Zhong Shengguang had led his forces to hold the Panlong Wasteland for twelve whole years. Just when they had finally seen the fighting ease and re-established contact between Panlong City and the Xiluo Kingdom,
their good fortune proved short-lived. In less than a year, the flames of war flared up again. The feeble Xiluo Kingdom lost contact with Panlong City once more, and at one point, it had even considered ceding Panlong City to the Baling Kingdom.
This was a devastating blow to Panlong City. Twelve years of holding fast amid surrounding enemies, only to be rewarded with this.
How many twelve-year spans did a person have in a lifetime?
One could easily imagine the gloom and despair that gripped Panlong City from top to bottom.
Under those circumstances, had a god not stepped forward to back them and perform an astonishing miracle to rally their spirits, Panlong City would likely have collapsed on its own, without their enemies needing to lift a finger.
He Lingchuan looked back toward the altar.
The deity blood sacrifice three years ago had been the turning point for the fate of the entire Panlong Wasteland. From that moment on, everything had changed.
Waiting a while longer, as the last stick of incense was nearly spent, Wen Daolun stepped down from the altar and walked over himself. "All right. Come board my carriage."
His time was valuable; he intended to use the ride back to answer He Lingchuan's questions and resolve his doubts.
Just then, He Lingchuan pointed down beneath the cliff. "Look, there's something alive down there!"
Vegetation had once grown on the wasteland directly beneath the God-Descending Platform, but the three lightning strikes had left even the ground scorched black.
Thus, the figure running across the barren, scorched earth stood out with exceptional clarity.
Through diligent cultivation and hard training, He Lingchuan's eyesight had long since sharpened. Even across dozens of zhang, he could tell the little black speck was sniffing around everywhere, sporting a tail behind it.
Wen Daolun looked down as well, sneering, "Refusing to give up evil designs."
"Is that a ferry ghost whelp too?"
"Indeed. The Gale Army troops I stationed below have already moved in to pursue it."
Sure enough, no sooner had he spoken than dozens of figures emerged from the shrubbery below, closing in to box the black speck in.
"Why are those monsters down there?"
Wen Daolun remarked casually, "They want to sense the divine aura."
That was puzzling. The divine aura?
And how had he known to lay an ambush here in advance?
It seemed Panlong City understood these ferry ghost whelps quite well.
He Lingchuan didn't ask, because Wen Daolun clapped his hands and said, "Let's go."
The two boarded the carriage with Wen Daolun, while their own carriage followed behind.
Wen Daolun's carriage was more spacious, cushioned with soft padding for comfort, and outfitted with a charcoal brazier and a low table. Compared to the lavish travel retinues of wealthy families, this was practically plain and unpretentious.
Once the three of them were seated and the carriage began to move, Wen Daolun spoke: "I must give a disclaimer first, lest Xu Shichu find fault with me later. The premise that destiny is fixed assumes that heaven follows a constant law. However, the Cataclysm shook the world's very origin. Just how accurately divination and calculation techniques can predict things nowadays is anyone's guess."
He spoke bluntly: after the Great Cataclysm three thousand years ago, methods of divination had become unreliable.
He Lingchuan nodded. This was not the first time he had heard such a claim.
Then Wen Daolun asked for He Lingchuan's Eight Characters of birth. Just as He Lingchuan was about to recite them, he suddenly realized something was wrong:
Darn it! The year and month he was born were over a century after Panlong City's fall!
If he gave his true Eight Characters of birth, no matter how one looked at it, the discrepancy would be glaring.
Why hadn't he thought of this beforehand?
He could only stammer, "I... I don't know either. I was adopted."
"Unknown Eight Characters?" Wen Daolun thought for a moment, leaned in close to examine his face, then looked at his hands, took his pulse, and even pulled open his eyelids to inspect them.
This manner differed little from a veteran physician of traditional medicine performing the four diagnostic methods: looking, listening, questioning, and feeling the pulse.
Wen Daolun casually tossed another piece of charcoal into the brazier before saying, "Judging by your physiognomy, you don't look like someone without parents!"
"Perhaps they are still alive?" He Lingchuan lied through his teeth, groaning inwardly. This was just like seeing a doctor—if you concealed things, could the diagnosis be trustworthy?
"Your good fortune runs deep, your prospects are boundless, and at the very least, you possess the making of a general. If you call this an ill-fated disaster, then ordinary commoners wouldn't stand a chance at life at all."
It seemed He Chunhua's constant rambling about his eldest son being a lucky charm wasn't completely groundless after all. He Lingchuan exchanged a look with Sun Fuling. "The one who deduced my fortune was a great demon with over three hundred years of cultivation. It studied the *Tianhe Collection* passed down by Master Dongli for many years, and even left me two lines of a prophetic verse."
"Master Dongli?" Wen Daolun was startled. He pondered for quite a while. "Master Dongli of the Dahuan Sect?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes." Master Dongli had personally written in his cave abode that he bequeathed his treasures to posterity, so how could it be wrong? "It stumbled into the cave abode where Master Dongli passed away and obtained his legacy."
"In the Post-Spiritual Qi Era, that master was also quite renowned." Wen Daolun asked for the two lines of the verse and pondered them carefully.
"'The body like a cage... a cage...'" He mulled it over for a long while, frowning. "Could it be 'using the body as a prison' as well?"
He Lingchuan promptly asked, "What does that mean?" He hadn't missed the word "as well."
Wen Daolun sighed. "Judging purely by fortune, yours far surpasses ordinary people. To have such luck on the Panlong Wasteland is truly bizarre. Think about it yourself—haven't you sailed smoothly through life from childhood to now?"
"Yes." His original self had indeed grown up indulging in food, drink, and entertainment, living in complete comfort.
"Without your Eight Characters, I cannot deduce your Palace of Fate, so it's truly difficult to calculate. If fortune turned to misfortune, there must be a pivotal juncture, yet I cannot see it. But the verse emphasized 'the dove occupying the magpie's nest' and 'the body like a cage'—why single those out specifically?"
He Lingchuan kept his eyes lowered, looking from nose to heart. The main reason he took the old turtle demon's prophecy seriously was precisely because of the words "the dove occupying the magpie's nest."
He was an outsider; in this world, not a single other soul was supposed to know.
Wen Daolun pondered for a long time, then suddenly drew back the carriage curtain and gave a few instructions outside.
Soon, several personal guards arrived carrying a large tarp and draped it over the entire carriage.
It blocked all the doors and windows, leaving only a faint glimmer of light filtering through.
"There is another method. Let us give it a try." He suddenly lit a slender stick of incense and handed it to Sun Fuling to hold.
The incense was pale cyan, and its fragrance was remarkably soothing.
Wen Daolun then took a small piece of wood from his bosom and blew gently on it.
The piece of wood looked ordinary enough to be found anywhere, bearing what seemed to be traces of past moss growth and two small holes.
After he blew on it, a white shadow actually drifted out from one of the holes.
Once it took shape, it was a tiny figure half the size of a palm, appearing in the likeness of a little girl. After drifting out, it eagerly inhaled the smoke from the incense in Sun Fuling's hand, a delighted expression appearing on its face.
A soul emerging from wood? He Lingchuan looked at the piece of wood again. Few soul vessels could shelter the spirits of the dead. Could this be seabed wood?
"This is a Tongkao, formed from the aggregated souls of young children who died untimely deaths but held no malice in their hearts." Wen Daolun tapped his temple. "Relax your mind and do not resist. I will send her into your sea of consciousness to see what is going on."
Sea of consciousness? He Lingchuan remembered that glowing seal.
He closed his eyes, and the Tongkao circled around him before slipping into his ear.
To He Lingchuan, it felt like taking a deep breath of mint, his entire mind instantly refreshed with a cool sensation.
Yet that was all. He felt none of the agony of that previous invasion by the heavenly god.
Ten breaths passed.
Twenty breaths passed.
He Lingchuan opened his eyes to see the two gazing intently at him in the dim interior of the carriage.
Wen Daolun seemed somewhat surprised. "You can open your eyes? What do you feel right now?"
"My head felt a bit cool, and that was all."
Wen Daolun seemed incredulous and pressed further, "No pain? You didn't see any visions?"
He Lingchuan shook his head.
After another dozen breaths, a wisp of white mist drifted out from his ear, turning back into the little girl's spirit in midair.
She seemed unharmed, making He Lingchuan exhale a silent sigh of relief. Was it because her manner of visitation wasn't as violent as the god's last time, so the backlash she suffered was minimal?
She rushed to Wen Daolun's ear and chattered incessantly to him. Strangely, He Lingchuan could not hear a single sound, as if watching a silent film.
Chapter 283