Journey to the West: The Immortal Clan Begins by Feeding Monkeys at Five Elements Mountain

Chapter 153 City God's Fasting Ritual, Heavenly Master's Recommendation of Gods

The southern camp of Chang'an was filled with layers of iron armor and a forest of spears and halberds. Wherever the wind blew, it carried an indelible smell of rust and blood.

The old steward of the Li family led the way with a stooped back, his steps thin and hurried, beads of sweat trickling down his face, but he didn't bother to wipe them away.

Jiang Ming followed behind him, his pace neither fast nor slow, but his feet felt as heavy as stakes, each step firmly planted.

After passing through several layers of tents, the scent of living people in the air faded, while the aura of death grew stronger.

We arrived at a remote morgue, where rows of wooden planks were covered with human figures, each covered with a white sheet.

Beside him stood a squad leader, clad in armor, his eyes indifferent as if he had seen it all before, his heart as hard as stone.

Jiang Ming ignored him and walked straight to a corpse that was covered particularly neatly. He reached out and lifted a corner of the white cloth.

The face that was revealed was still the same as before, only the color had faded, and it was as pale and bluish-white as the frozen soil in December.

The reckless courage that lingered in his eyes was now gone, forever etched on his face by death.

He glanced down at it for a moment, then gently covered the white cloth again, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid of disturbing his younger brother's afternoon nap.

That hand was so steady that it didn't tremble at all.

Seeing this, the team leader stepped forward, carrying several items, and said in a deep voice:
"All of Captain Jiang's belongings are here. The general has ordered that they may be taken once they have been verified."

A suit of armor, riddled with cracks, the edges of the iron plates worn and blunt;
A heavy bronze badge bearing the name "Jiang Liang" weighed down on him.

The most eye-catching thing was the white waxwood stick, about three fingers thick, with a ring of wrought copper around the top, polished to a bright yellow and smooth by the palm of the hand.

Beside the stick, there were also five copper rings, one large and four small, arranged in order, quietly gleaming with a cold light.

Jiang Ming glanced at it once and then nodded.

His face remained expressionless; he simply turned to the trembling, silent old steward of the Li family and said indifferently:
“Liang’er is a military officer with a rank of 600 shi, and there are regulations for his funeral provided by the court. The government will provide the coffin and official clothes. You just need to go along and take care of him. There is no need to be extravagant.”

Butler Li repeatedly replied "Yes," but inwardly he was puzzled.

This maternal uncle seemed even calmer than his own father, unlike a true elder brother.

Jiang Ming bent down, wrapped the long stick and the five copper rings together in cloth, and carried them on his back.

He tidied up carefully, but after finishing, he didn't look back at the white cloth again. He simply called to the Li family's servants and headed straight out of the camp.

The afternoon sunlight in Chang'an slanted down on his back, casting a long, straight shadow.

The carriage traveled through the streets and city without stopping, heading straight for the City God Temple.

This temple is extremely popular, and the people who come and go are all nobles dressed in fine silk.

Jiang Ming led his men inside and found the temple keeper.

The temple keeper was a shrewd and experienced man with eyes like a sieve. He first sized up the accompanying servants and carriages, and then his smile became warmer.

"Is this kind person here to offer incense or to have their fortune told?"

Jiang Ming didn't beat around the bush and said directly, "I need to perform a ritual for my younger brother, a grandest ghost ritual."

Upon hearing this, the temple keeper immediately began to calculate in his mind that this was a big deal.

He remained cautious on the surface, stroking his goatee as he said:

"I wonder which devout believer this is for? This Taoist ritual has many rules, and only those with great merit can receive such blessings."

Jiang Ming raised his eyes and looked at the gilded and majestic statue of the City God, his voice calm and unhurried:
"My younger brother, Jiang Liang."

He paused slightly, then added softly, his voice low but clear:

People call him "Longxi One Stick".

The temple keeper was taken aback at first, and his eyes, which were used to scrutinizing worshippers, immediately lost their sharpness, and a serious expression appeared between his brows.

He straightened his clothes, bowed deeply, and solemnly said:
"So it was for Captain Jiang. Captain Jiang guarded the border and killed enemies, his blood was shed in Guanzhong. Such merit is worthy of being enshrined in this temple as a longevity tablet."

The mundane affairs of arranging the rituals and setting up the temple were handled by the Li family's servants and temple keepers.

The silver coins fell to the ground like raindrops, and no one even blinked.

Jiang Ming simply stood to the side with his hands behind his back, listening quietly.

Once everything was settled, he spoke calmly:
"Master, everything else shall be done according to the rules. I only wish to go to the main hall alone to light an incense stick for my younger brother and say a few words."

This request is not excessive.

The temple keeper looked up and sized up his elder brother, known as "the one-stick warrior of Longxi," and felt that his calm demeanor and hidden strength made him more dignified than those loud and boisterous generals.

“Of course,” he readily agreed. “I will now have my disciples withdraw, and you may do as you please. However, this is a place of heavy incense offerings, so please refrain from making any noise.”

The palace doors slammed shut, shutting out the noise and bustle outside.

The main hall was spacious, filled with the aroma of incense. The golden-faced statue of the deity looked down, and in the stillness, even the soft sound of incense ash falling into the incense burner could be clearly heard.

As Jiang Ming stood in the hall, his mind gradually calmed down with the stillness, like a ladle of turbid water slowly becoming clear.

This silence did not last long.

As Jiang Ming calmed down, it seemed as if someone was speaking softly in the palace.

The scene is delicate and ethereal, like a few old men stroking their beards and chatting idly by a fireplace on a winter night:

"Tsk, this young man... is quite strange."

"At such a young age, his spirit is as clear as crystal and his aura is as solid as a mountain. Such talent cannot be cultivated by ordinary families."

“Indeed, in my opinion, he is even more reserved than the Vice Minister of War who came to offer incense the other day.”

The voice was ethereal and unlike human speech, yet every word reached Jiang Ming's ears with unmistakable clarity.

Now that his spirit is clear and vigorous, he naturally recognizes that these are spirits that have attached themselves to the statue and received incense offerings, and they are having a secret conversation.

Then another slow, drawn-out voice chimed in:

"Hey... I remember now, the name the temple keeper announced just now... was Jiang Liang. Could it be that 'One Stick from Longxi'?"

"It was him! I heard he slew demons and killed bandits on the frontier; he was a truly valiant man. What a pity he died young."

"Then this person in front of me must be his elder brother? No wonder... no wonder... these brothers are no ordinary people."

The gods in the hall spoke one after another, some in surprise, some sighing.

Completely unaware that the people sitting below heard everything clearly.

Jiang Ming remained expressionless, stepped forward, and bowed respectfully to the central City God statue, his voice as clear as a bell:

"Before the City God's throne, on the left and right judges, and above all the gods of the underworld, I, Jiang Ming, have come today to pray for my younger brother, Jiang Liang."

"My younger brother served the country and guarded the borders during his lifetime. Now that he has passed away, I hope that you will take good care of him on his journey to the underworld."

His voice was not loud, but it resonated in the empty hall, echoing softly.

Upon hearing this, the City God at the head of the table showed a hint of approval in his divine sense.

With such a person speaking, his memorial tablet will surely stand for a long time, and incense offerings will be indispensable.

He immediately agreed, and his divine sense transformed into a gentle breeze:
"Commander Jiang is commendable for his loyalty and bravery. I, the God, will make a wise judgment. Please rest assured, sir."

Jiang Ming responded with a "thank you," then straightened up and took out a stick of incense from his pocket.

Its body was waxy yellow with a red dot on top; it looked like an ordinary item that cost three coins a handful at the temple.

He brought the incense close to the ever-burning lamp, licked the flame, and lit the incense tip.

Wisps of smoke rose slowly.

To the naked eye, it was indeed just an ordinary wisp of smoke.

But in the eyes of the Yin Gods, and in Jiang Ming's spiritual perception, what was rising was not some green smoke.
It was clearly a heavy, golden halo that could crush the roof, slowly spreading out from the incense burner, as thick and heavy as a mountain.

The City God Temple, which had been rustling just moments before, suddenly fell silent.

It was so quiet that you could hear the incense ash gently falling to the bottom of the stove.

In Jiang Ming's mind, he clearly saw the light and shadow behind the statues of gods at the head of the table suddenly flicker.

Even the City God himself seemed to be burned by the incense, and without prior agreement, they all withdrew their outstretched divine senses further and further.

They seemed somewhat unable to bear the weight of this incense stick. Jiang Ming remained silent, as if he hadn't noticed, and simply held the incense in both hands, bowing respectfully three times.

The embers of the incense sticks glowed faintly red, and the smoke in the burner was thick and heavy.

After lighting the incense, he turned around and pushed open the temple door.

The sunlight streaming in from outside cast a long, thin shadow of him, as if it were being dragged into the depths of the mortal world.

Inside the hall, only the glow of a furnace of crimson gold remained, slowly lingering. Several clay and wooden statues of gods stared at each other, their very breaths seemingly suppressed.

Under the management of the Li family, silver flowed out like water, and the ritual and religious ceremony was quickly set up.

In just three days, the City God Temple had become the focus of the entire city.

Yellow paper flew, blue smoke swirled, bells and chimes tinkled—a grand and elaborate Buddhist ceremony was thus set up in a grand and imposing manner.

At first, it was just neighbors joining in the fun.

Later, the word spread quickly, and as more and more people came to pray for the soul of "Longxi One-Handed Man" who sacrificed his life for the country.

People in long gowns and short jackets, carrying baskets and leading children, crowded outside the temple, blocking several streets and alleys.

The servants of the Li family, all dressed in blue, stood guard at the crossroads. When they saw someone approaching, they would hand over a packet of paper money and incense, refusing to accept payment.

After the worship, you can turn around and take away two fresh eggs.

No one complained about the amount, and no one caused trouble.

He tucked the eggs into his bosom, keeping them warm, and muttered to himself as he left:

"Captain Jiang is a true hero."

"Pity."

On the same day that the religious ceremony at the City God Temple was launched, the storytellers in various teahouses also seemed to have started new stories as if by prior arrangement.

With a slam of the gavel, the story was no longer about "Romance of the Former Dynasty" or "The Fox Girl's Gratitude".

Instead, it's the story of "Commander Jiang of Longxi, single-handedly guarding the border and beheading bandits."

The gentlemen spoke with great enthusiasm, and the tea drinkers listened with rapt attention.

What's even more interesting is that these past few days, teahouses throughout Chang'an have been waiving the charge for tea.

The melon seeds and tea were all provided by a host who admired Captain Jiang's character.

Why not listen to audiobooks and drink tea for free, and hear such passionate and heroic true stories?
Thus, the yellow sands of Longxi, the cold moon over the border, and the long staff with copper rings in the young hero's hand became vivid and legendary in these cups of cheap tea and between the lips of the storyteller.

In the end, throughout the entire city of Chang'an, from officials and their families to ordinary people, everyone was talking about the name "Jiang Liang".

At the height of the controversy, people began to appear in front of the newly built grave outside the city.

Someone placed a bunch of wildflowers first, and then someone brought over a pot of cloudy wine.

Later, some retired soldiers even made a special trip here to give a proper military salute to the mound of yellow earth.

A new grave is no longer a lonely grave.

Jiang Ming had no interest in seeing this magnificent scene.

He carried the long stick wrapped tightly in white cloth on his back, and tucked five warm copper rings—one large and four small—in his pocket. He quietly left during the busiest time in Chang'an.

One man on horseback, traveling day and night, heading straight for Heming Mountain, a thousand miles away.

Heming Mountain is the ancestral home of the orthodox Taoist sect and the Celestial Masters sect.

This mountain is not high, yet it exudes an ethereal aura.

From a distance, the mountain resembles a white crane stretching its neck as if about to cry out. It is shrouded in clouds and mist all year round. Such a magnificent sight could not have been created without the handiwork of a celestial being.

On the mountain path, the bluestone slabs have been polished smooth by time. Occasionally, a Taoist priest carrying a medicine basket will walk up the steps amidst the clouds, his robes fluttering, like a figure in a painting.

Jiang Ming dismounted in front of the mountain gate, announced his name, and said only one sentence: "I have come for my younger brother Jiang Liang."

The young Taoist priest guarding the gate dared not neglect him and hurriedly led him up the mountain to a side hall called "Listening to the Crane" to serve him tea.

Before he had even finished half of his cup of hot tea, a series of hurried but orderly footsteps sounded outside the hall.

Immediately afterwards, the palace doors were pushed open, and more than ten people filed in.

These people, some wearing purple turbans and others dressed in Tai Chi robes, all had a clear mind and spirit, and their eyes shone with divine light.

One look at him reveals that he is a person who has long held a high position and is highly skilled.

The young Taoist priest in charge of guiding them was stunned by the sight.

The visitors were none other than the heads of various peaks and academies. It was rare to see even one of them on ordinary days, yet today they had all gathered in this small Listening Crane Hall.

Jiang Ming did not recognize them, but he had heard of their Taoist names.

These people were the Taoist masters who had been indebted to Jiang Liang, the younger brother of the Faqiang Guiji tribe, eighteen years ago when they accompanied the army to suppress the tribe.

Back then, they were already the backbone of the Celestial Masters sect.

Now, eighteen years later, many of them have made even greater progress and become important figures in the Taoist community, whose mere presence can cause a stir.

The leading female Daoist, whose Daoist name was "Xuan Yue," stepped forward, bowed to Jiang Ming, and spoke in a clear, cold voice tinged with regret:
"Layman Jiang, we have heard about your brother's situation. Captain Jiang's heroic sacrifice for his country is a great loss to our Taoist community. Please accept our condolences."

The others also stepped forward, some to comfort him, others to sigh.

Jiang Ming's face showed little sorrow. He stood up and returned the greetings to everyone.

Without any pleasantries, they went straight to the point.

“Esteemed Daoist masters, I have come here not to reminisce, but for one matter.”

His gaze swept over the crowd, his voice calm yet resounding.

"I've heard that the Celestial Masters sect holds the orthodox authority of Taoism, can reach the ears of Heaven, and can act on behalf of Heaven to bestow titles. They can recommend people with great merit in the mortal world for the title of gods?"

Upon hearing this, the entire hall fell silent.

The expressions on the faces of the dozen or so Taoist masters, who had just been filled with gratitude and sympathy, froze for a moment.

The air inside the hall seemed to have become a little heavier, with only the wisps of white steam slowly swirling in the teacup remaining.

The leader, True Person Xuan Yue, slightly raised his cold eyes and looked at Jiang Ming.

It seemed as if they wanted to discern a hint of joking or madness born of excessive grief from his calm and composed face.

But she couldn't see anything.

That face was as calm as an ancient well, unfathomable.

She sighed softly to herself, a hint of difficulty appearing on her face, and said slowly:

"I deeply sympathize with Layman Jiang's loss of your younger brother. However... your words have put our Celestial Masters sect in a difficult position."

She paused, then spoke up to explain, her tone calm but clearly delineating the boundaries:
“There are different kinds of gods. If it is just a minor local deity such as a local land god or mountain god, it is enough to build a shrine in the countryside and receive worship from the local people. Over time, as the incense burns and people’s hearts are sincere, it will naturally have the opportunity to be enshrined as a god. This is one reason.”

"Secondly, there are the guardian deities within our Taoist sect. Such divine positions require disciples from our Celestial Masters sect who have performed great deeds in life and whose souls remain undisturbed after death, so that they can be guided by our elders to enter the pantheon of deities and enjoy the incense offerings of our Taoist sect for ten thousand years. Although your brother has been kind to us, he is ultimately not a member of the Taoist sect, and it is truly... impossible to break this precedent."

Master Xuan Yue's words were impeccable, and the other masters present nodded silently, clearly agreeing with his reasoning.

The Celestial Master's Mansion is indeed of no help in this matter.

However, now that Jiang Ming has come to Heming Mountain, how could he not know these simple truths?

After listening, he simply shook his head quietly.

“Master, you misunderstand,” he said in a deep voice. “What I seek is neither a folk deity nor a Taoist protector.”

Upon hearing this, Master Xuan Yue was slightly taken aback. Then, an unprecedented solemnity suddenly appeared in his clear, cold eyes, and even his voice deepened.

"What Layman Jiang said, could it be..."

She paused, as if those few words weighed a ton.

"...Those earthly deities who require the emperor's imperial brush and the Jade Emperor's decree?"

(End of this chapter)