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

Chapter 235 Establishing Temples and the Death of the Purple Antelope

Ever since those four words, "The Yellow Heaven shall rise," were uttered, the winds of change across the land shifted dramatically.

The once invincible Yellow Turban army, seemingly aided by heaven, suddenly lost its momentum overnight, becoming a pariah despised by all.

The once-legendary tales of "heavenly soldiers descending to aid" and "the army garrisoning Fushui" have gradually faded into obscurity, replaced by a constant stream of strange and unfortunate events involving them.

"Have you heard? When the main force of Yuzhou attacked the city, the old mountain behind the city collapsed, burying half of the army."

"The situation in Jingzhou was even stranger. Tens of thousands of Yellow Turban rebels crossed the river, and suddenly the river overflowed, creating several feet of white waves. Several boats carrying people and their belongings were swallowed up completely..."

These kinds of messages, some true and some false, were all brought to Jiang Yi by woodcutters and peddlers passing by when he was sitting idly outside the Lingsu Temple.

News of chaotic times is as numerous as drifting catkins, coming in gusts of wind.

The situation is changing rapidly, and everything is constantly evolving.

Even Jiang Liang, Jiang Yi's son who was an official in the underworld, no longer dared to be as carefree as before.

As the commander of the Chang'an City God's Office, he no longer frequently came to the ancestral hall to chat with his father.

Unless he goes back to the village to deliver relief supplies, he spends the rest of his time sitting in the temple, keeping an eye on the area under his jurisdiction.

Even the slightest grievance or the slightest disturbance must be dealt with immediately, lest a moment's delay lead to major chaos.

The Yellow Turban Rebellion lost its opportune moment, and suddenly the social atmosphere of the world came alive.

No sooner had they retreated than rebel armies rose up on the other side, raising the banner of "punishing Huang," and their flames spread like wildfire across various prefectures.

At first, they only gathered in small groups of three or five, shouting a few times to bolster their courage;
But before long, the fire spread out and burned until the sky was bright.

A few months is neither a long nor a short time.

The old locust tree at the village entrance, from its lush green to its deep green, has been tinged with yellowish-brown edges by the autumn frost.

As the wind grew colder, the leaves fell faster than in previous years.

One day, a peddler carrying a load on a shoulder pole passed by Liangjie Village.

His face was weathered, and his feet were still covered in dust. As soon as he sat down, he whispered mysteriously:
"Have you heard? That Heavenly General, the Great Teacher of Wisdom... is dead."

He died in a very strange way, from an inexplicable illness.

He was still commanding the army the night before, but he died the next morning.

A once-powerful "living deity" whose talismanic water could save countless lives, yet when it came to his own illness, he couldn't even find a cure.

A few months ago, saying this would have gotten you a lot of flak, but now nobody's surprised.

The old farmer standing around the tea stall just grinned and spat.
"Hey, what's so strange about that? That guy defied the heavens; he's a monster. It's only a matter of time before God takes him down."

"Good riddance! A fitting end!" someone chimed in, their tone even carrying a hint of satisfaction.

Once upon a time, the words "great and virtuous teacher" carried a sense of respect in the mouths of the villagers.

Now, however, it has become an ominous word.

The Way of Peace, like a stone falling into water, sank deeper and deeper, transforming from a "righteous army for saving the world" into a "demonic cult" that everyone avoids.

Hearing the indignant discussions around him, Jiang Yi simply sighed and remained silent.

The world is like a tide; the waves rise quickly and recede just as fast.

With the death of the Great Teacher of Virtue, the banner of "The Yellow Heaven shall Stand" also fell silent.

The once overwhelming power has vanished like morning mist, leaving not a sound.

The Yellow Turban Army suffered successive defeats, and its momentum collapsed rapidly.

Those eight prefectures, which were once completely covered by the Yellow Turban Rebellion, are now gradually revealing their old appearance.

Amidst the rising dust, various rebel armies seized the opportunity to rise up and reclaim lost territory.

Meanwhile, those Taoist sects that had been forced to retreat to seclusion by the Taiping Dao in their early years gradually emerged from seclusion.

One by one, they poked their heads out of the blessed land, vying for the incense offerings and believers that had been vacated by the Taiping Dao.

However, among these various factions, one group arrived particularly quickly and steadily.

The footprints of the Yellow Turban Army had barely cooled when their soup kitchens were already set up.

The rice porridge in the pot was boiling, steaming and swirling with white mist.

This bowl of thick porridge was better than any magic pill, and it brought a glimmer of light to the eyes of the displaced people.

Next to the soup kitchen, several wooden stakes had already been laid to the ground.

Amidst shouts and calls, carts carrying stones and timber arrived, clanging and clattering, creating a lively scene.

The new temple was newly built, and the plaque was hung up early, bearing five bold and elegant characters:
Temple of the Hunting God.

Those young servants in blue cloth shirts were quick-witted and eloquent.

As he ladled porridge, he softly spoke to the crowd:
"This serpent is actually a locust that has become a spirit. The peace we enjoy today is all thanks to the divine power of this serpent-hunting general, who used magic to subdue the demon."

They don't talk about grand principles or profound theories; they only speak the truth that people can understand.

The porridge warmed my stomach, and the words touched my heart.

In recent years, the world has suffered terribly from locust plagues.

The fields were barren, and the granaries were empty. Many families, seeing no way to survive, resorted to cannibalism.

Now, upon hearing that a righteous god had appeared to "eradicate the locust plague and save the people," the dying embers in my heart were rekindled by a spark of starlight.

A bowl of hot porridge warms more than just the stomach.

That aroma carried the sweetness of surviving a catastrophe.

So everyone kowtowed, moved to tears of gratitude.

Some people believed it, some spread the word, and some even kowtowed.

And so, a bowl of porridge, a temple, and a story.

The name "Hui Shou Shen Jiang" spread throughout the prefectures and counties along with the news of the recapture of lost territory.

It spread throughout China even before the fastest military report.

Hearing the bustling noise outside, with the stories becoming increasingly fantastical, Jiang Yi naturally felt a sense of relief.

However, the excitement outside is ultimately just that—external.

The quietness of one's own home is still one's own.

His spiritual practice has remained unchanged these days.

That fire lingered in his heart, neither hurried nor agitated, neither melting nor leaving, as if it had become attached to him.

That morning, just as the sky began to lighten, Jiang Yi got up early.

Without taking any special connections, he moved swiftly and silently, landing atop a spirit fruit tree behind the courtyard.

The dew dampened the hem of my clothes, making it feel cool and refreshing.

A dozen or so slender chickens perched on the branches, their feathers glossy and their expressions serene.

Some were arranging feathers, while others were squinting at the sunrise, their appearances quite ethereal.

Jiang Yi found a comfortable position, sat cross-legged, and, imitating them, joined the flock of spirit chickens, breathing quietly towards the rising sun on the horizon.

He was trying to absorb the first wisp of purple energy from the rising sun.

After all, the morning sun's energy is fire, and a very high level of fire at that.

As dawn broke, a wisp of purple light spread out in the east, like smoke or mist, before dissipating in an instant.

The chickens beside him seemed to be attending a banquet, raising their heads in unison and making low clucking sounds.

Those wisps of purple mist, invisible to the naked eye, were pecked into their bellies, as if they were swallowing dew and drinking the rosy clouds.

A moment later, the birds were all radiant, their wings glowing even brighter than before, clearly having received a great benefit.

Following the incantation of the "Morning Sun Purple Qi Alchemy Method," Jiang Yi practiced breathing exercises for a long time, but it was as tasteless as chewing wax.

The morning sun shone on me, and it was indeed just the right amount of warm, so warm that even my old bones felt a little softer. There was nothing else to it.

Once again, they returned empty-handed.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw the few clever chickens beside him grooming themselves with great fluff and glossy feathers. Their eyes seemed to be smiling at him, as if mocking his clumsiness.

Jiang Yi wasn't annoyed; he just squinted at him for a while, but a strange thought popped into his head.

Since the villagers were able to dissipate the vital energy within the Blood Bird Pill by eating meat,

Then, can I also use the same method to benefit from the properly refined Morning Sun Purple Qi within these spirit birds?
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his gaze involuntarily lingered on the shiny backs of the chickens, circling back and forth twice.

The birds felt uneasy under his gaze, fluttering their wings as if they were about to flee at any moment.

Just then, the aura of the spirit tree suddenly trembled.

A familiar wisp of incense smoke slowly rose from the void.

The hint of intention in Jiang Yi's eyes vanished instantly. With a swift movement, he gracefully descended from the treetop.

When it landed, it didn't even startle a single leaf.

Sure enough, his son Jiang Liang, dressed in a dark official robe, stood under the tree, hands clasped in respect, looking solemn.

"Is everything done outside?"

Jiang Yi patted the corner of his clothes, speaking casually.

Upon hearing this, Jiang Liang shook his head with a wry smile.

"The world is in complete chaos, there's never a time when things will 'get over'." He paused briefly, then added, "My return today can be considered... official business."

Jiang Yi raised an eyebrow, a slight smile appearing in his old eyes.

"Oh? Now that you're a Yin spirit from Chang'an, you can even govern our Two Realms Village?"

Jiang Liang couldn't laugh.

The illusory figure's face darkened, and he stepped forward, whispering:
"Father, do you still remember when you told me to keep an eye on those deities who joined the Way of Peace and secretly helped the Yellow Turban Army?"

Jiang Yi nodded, his expression darkening.

Jiang Liang took a deep breath, and the yin energy circulated twice within his soul before he slowly exhaled.

There was an ominous solemnity in his voice:

"Just as you predicted... something really did happen."

He stood in the dim morning light in the woods, his shadow flickering slightly.

"Among those gods who surrendered, there was one that left a very deep impression on me."

"It is the mountain god of Camel Peak Mountain, on the south bank of the Wei River in the suburbs of Chang'an."

"The original body was a purple antelope that had cultivated to a certain level. It had a good constitution and accumulated good deeds, which is why it was granted an imperial decree to be worshipped as a god. It was considered a senior deity."

"Because he attained enlightenment in his demonic form, his physical body was not destroyed, so his supernatural powers were considerable. He could control clouds and rain, protect the territory and keep the people safe, and he did his best in all these tasks."

Jiang Liang sighed slightly, then changed the subject.

"It's a pity that it didn't have a good foundation."

"With no one backing them up and no followers to support them, they have long been ostracized in Chang'an. Seeing the overwhelming momentum of the Taiping Dao, they have decided to curry favor with them."

"His Camel Hump Mountain is strategically located, right next to Chang'an. A while ago, a group of elite Yellow Turban troops passed through the area, and he turned a blind eye and even secretly gave them some preferential treatment."

After listening, Jiang Yi simply nodded slowly.

"When the wind is strong, the grass on the wall always bends to one side."

His tone was flat, as if he had long been accustomed to this kind of world.

Jiang Liang understood and continued, "With the help of this local strongman, the Yellow Turban army bypassed the government troops without anyone noticing and captured several cities in one night."

"Just as the rebel Huang raised the banner of 'The Yellow Heaven shall rise,' the first thing they did after entering the city was to smash the temple."

“Those temples, which were able to establish incense offerings around Chang’an, were all the residences of prominent and highly popular deities. With the temples destroyed and the statues shattered, and the incense offerings cut off, they were naturally unwilling to give up and jointly filed a complaint with the City God Temple.”

"But at that time, the banner had not yet spread, and the Taiping Dao was as powerful as the heavens. Even the City God could only sit and drink tea in silence. In the end, the petition could only be buried on the desk, and no one dared to dust it."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Yi's eyes showed a hint of understanding.

Seeing that his father remained silent, Jiang Liang took a deep breath and lowered his voice several decibels:
“At midnight last night, the earth’s veins in that mountain range suddenly became disordered.”

“I was on my guard the whole time, but by the time I noticed something amiss and rushed over… it was too late.”

His soul swayed slightly, as if still burned by the lingering flames of that night.

"The mountain god temple on Camel Peak has been reduced to ashes. Even the foundation was shattered into dust by someone with great magic."

"The Purple Antelope Mountain God's original golden body was shattered, and the fragments were scattered on the stone steps in front of the temple gate."

At this point, Jiang Liang paused, his voice trembling slightly:
"...His soul was completely scattered, leaving not even a trace of his spirit behind."

Jiang Yi's eyelids, which had been drooping, slowly lifted a slit.

The path of spiritual cultivation is fraught with countless difficulties and dangers.

For a demon to become a god, it must undergo countless tribulations to temper its bones.

Those who reach the point of being granted imperial titles are all old souls who have survived the trials of fire and lightning.

But now, not even a trace of life remains...

Jiang Yi remained silent for a moment, unsure of what to say.

After a long pause, he slowly raised his eyes, his voice low and deep:

"How would the underworld explain such a thing?"

Jiang Liang's face, formed from incense smoke, glowed faintly, his expression revealing a hint of weary helplessness.

He shook his head slightly and sighed:

"According to the laws of Heaven and the underworld, if a deity who has been granted a title is murdered without cause, it is a major case. Under normal circumstances, let alone the City God Temple in Chang'an, even if it alarms the Heavenly Court, it will be thoroughly investigated and no mercy will be shown."

He paused here, a bitter smile appearing on his lips:
"But when I reported this matter to the City God, he simply tossed the file aside and said, 'The world is in chaos, and the incense offerings are as fragile as duckweed; how can we withstand such turmoil?'"

His tone was indifferent, yet colder than a sigh.

"He added that if the investigation were to proceed step by step, the mountain god's past connections would eventually be uncovered. At that point, simply accusing him of being an 'accomplice of Huang the Rebel' would be enough to send him to his death three times over."

Jiang Liang chuckled softly, a hint of mockery in his voice.

"At that time, the entire Chang'an City God Temple will be in the same boat, and no one will be able to escape responsibility."

After saying that, he fell silent.

The ghostly figure faded slightly in the morning mist, revealing an indescribable weariness.

Jiang Yi listened quietly, and finally sighed.

That sigh carried a hint of understood helplessness.

Jiang Liang slowly said, "The City God has finally spoken, and this case is now settled."

"The mountain god of Camel Peak was loyal and brave. He secretly assisted the local underworld and resisted the remnants of Huang's rebellion in the mountains. Unfortunately, he was exhausted and died."

"In recognition of his loyalty and bravery, he was posthumously granted the title of Director of the Yin-Yang Department of this temple, and his memorial tablet was enshrined in the shrine for perpetual worship."

He sighed slightly as he said this.

"As for his remains, the City God, out of compassion for his difficult life, has instructed our department to select a quiet place for a proper burial."

"So that even after he dies, people will come looking for him and subject him to further humiliation."

After he finished speaking, the courtyard fell silent.

The wind slid down from the eaves, brushing against the leaves and rustling them.

He aided the rebellious in life, but remained loyal after death.

What was once a hot potato has now become a merit monument in the temple.

That wrist is truly beautiful.

Upon hearing this, Jiang Yi slowly realized what kind of "official business" his son had come back to do today.

The memorial tablet of the Yin-Yang Division Chief was naturally quite impressive.

But those bones, too shattered to be pieced back together, were destined to remain buried in the shadows.

With countless eyes watching the vicinity of Chang'an, where is there any peace and quiet left?
On the contrary, the area around Liangjie Village is remote and secluded, with little wind, making it a good place for the dead to rest in peace.

Jiang Yi looked at his son; although his spirit and image were steady, they revealed an undeniable weariness.

He was silent for a moment, then finally asked:

"Can I lend you a hand?"

In Jiang Yi's view, the remains of such people who died under suspicious circumstances were ultimately tainted with bad luck and should not be kept too close.

Jiang Liang's spirit, having left the protection of the incense offerings in Chang'an, could not stray too far from the ancestral hall and memorial tablet.

Jiang Liang smiled slightly and shook his head.

The helplessness of officialdom dissipated, but his expression was unexpectedly resolute.

He raised his hand and pointed to the back of the ancestral hall, where the medicinal herb field faintly glowed with a bluish light under the rising sun.

“I have already made all the plans,” he said calmly. “This place is the most suitable for burial.”

Jiang Yi looked slightly taken aback.

The presence of such a dismembered body, of such extraordinary origin and with such an unclear and mysterious death, buried next to one's own ancestral hall, gives off an unsettling feeling.

Seeing the boy's confident expression, as if he had his own plans, Jiang Yi had no choice but to suppress his doubts and not rush to speak.

She simply stared at him with her old eyes, waiting for him to continue.

Seeing this, Jiang Liang smiled slightly, said nothing more, and turned to walk down the mountain towards the ancestral hall.

The footsteps were so light they were almost inaudible, as if afraid of disturbing something sleeping.

After walking a few steps, he suddenly seemed to remember something and casually said:
"By the way, Father. The mountain god of Camel Peak is actually a purple antelope."

He paused, then laughed, "The book calls it 'purple antelope,' but the common people call it 'fire-eating beast.'"

As soon as he finished speaking, Jiang Liang raised his hand and gestured.

A ray of yin light flashed, and half of a broken beast's body fell out of the pot-shaped heaven, which he gently held in his palm.

The moment the corpse appeared, the surrounding air emitted a slight popping sound, as if licked by tongues of fire.

Heat waves surged up from the ground, causing grass and trees to curl up without wind, and even the air itself to ripple with distortion.

Jiang Yi felt a blur before his eyes and a burning sensation in his chest; he could clearly sense it without even thinking about it.

Within the remains of that "mountain god," there was still an inner core that had not dissipated.

The crimson light shone like the blazing sun, and with each breath, it seemed to ignite the heavens and earth.

(End of this chapter)