Under One Person: The Taoist Priest Descends the Mountain

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Zhuge Village, Council Hall.

Today, the place is full of people. A portrait of Zhuge Liang hangs on the wall, and sandalwood incense burns in the incense burner, with wisps of smoke rising.

Clan Chief Zhuge Gong sat in the main seat, his phone on the table, his fingers tapping incessantly.

The others whispered among themselves, some drank tea, some smoked, and some closed their eyes to rest, but their eyes kept glancing at the cell phone on the table.

No one spoke in the main room.

Only the old clock on the wall ticks away, each tick striking a chord in people's hearts.

Someone couldn't help but ask, "Xiao Meng has been gone for so long, I hope nothing bad has happened to her?"

The person next to her said, "What could possibly happen to her? She must have just gone out to play."

"Is this something we can play?"

"What can't she do?"

The group of people chatted amongst themselves, their unease growing with each conversation.

Zhuge Gong tapped the table more and more frequently.

Ring ring—

The phone rang.

Zhuge Gong grabbed the phone, pressed the answer button, and his voice changed: "Hello, how is it?"

Zhuge Meng's voice came from the other end of the phone, crisp and clear: "The person is long dead. We've been tricked."

How could he be dead?!

Zhuge Gong opened his mouth, wanting to ask something, but the phone was already dialing a busy signal.

He slowly put down his phone and looked at the faces staring at him in the main room.

Someone couldn't hold back any longer: "Chieftain, what's wrong?"

Zhuge Gong was silent for a few seconds: "The person is dead."

The main room fell silent for a moment.

Then, things exploded.

"Dead? How could he be dead?"

"Then we've lost?"

In the corner, an old man with gray hair gave a bitter laugh: "The Divine Strategist of Zhuge Liang, the Zhuge family—dozens of people couldn't outwit a dead man. Who would believe it if I told them?"

The man opposite him shook his head: "It's not that we can't calculate it. It's that we can only calculate it after he's dead. When he was alive, we couldn't even find out where he was."

"That's even more shameful," the old man said bitterly. "He's just one person, while we're dozens. We can't even begin to count him while he's alive, but we can get close to him after he's dead. It's not just a matter of not being able to count him; it's that we haven't even caught a glimpse of him."

The main room fell silent.

There's no way to respond to that.

The old man touched his thinning head: "Now I understand. They never considered us as opponents; they were just playing us for fools."

Someone wanted to say something to save face, opened their mouth, and then closed it again.

What are you saying?

To say, "We just didn't go all out"? To say, "The other side used unfair means"? To say, "This wasn't a real contest"?

These words might fool outsiders, but I can't bring myself to say them to my own people.

Zhuge Qing sat in the corner, his fingers gripping the teacup, his knuckles turning white.

He knew from a young age that the Wuhou Qimen was the orthodox method of all magicians in the world, and that the Zhuge family was the direct descendant of the Wuhou.

Any one of the elders in the clan, those uncles and aunts, those white-haired elders, could hold up a place for themselves in the outside world.

The village elders always say that Wuhou Qimen is unparalleled in the world.

But now?

A sorcerer appeared out of nowhere and used his life to set up a scheme. Dozens of members of the Zhuge family worked together to calculate and calculate until the sorcerer died and the result was finally revealed.

What's this called?

This is called crushing.

It's not just a matter of a point or two, it's a whole step off.

Zhuge Qing suddenly felt a little cold.

That confidence I'd built up since childhood was suddenly shattered, like a bucket of cold water being poured over me.

But soon, that chill was suppressed by something else.

It's fire.

Zhuge Qing put down his teacup and sat up straight.

The Wuhou Qimen Dunjia technique is not inferior to others; its weakness lies in itself.

If others can do it, why can't I?

Just because he can't do it now doesn't mean he won't be able to do it in the future.

……

Inside the hall, Zhuge Gong cleared his throat: "Gentlemen, this does not mean we have lost."

Everyone looked at him.

"According to the information Xiaomeng brought back, he was still alive when we calculated his location." Zhuge Gong stood up, put his hands behind his back, and took two steps in the council hall. "It was after we calculated it that we interfered with his plans, which hastened his death."

The main room was quiet for a few seconds.

Someone nodded: "That makes sense."

"That's right, we calculated that he was still alive when we counted him, so we didn't lose."

"Yes, he died because of our interference. We've clearly won."

The atmosphere in the council chamber became lively; some people started laughing, some started drinking tea, and some started boasting.

But some people remained silent.

The group of elderly men with gray hair exchanged glances.

Do you believe it?

Don't necessarily believe everything.

But we have no choice but to believe it.

What else? Admit that Wuhou Qimen is inferior to a dead man?

Does he admit that the dozens of members of the Zhuge family combined are no match for an outsider?

Admitting that what they are proud of is a joke in the eyes of others?

You can't say that.

It's not that I dare not, it's that I cannot.

We cannot lose with the Wuhou Qimen formation.

The Zhuge family cannot afford to lose.

If they lose, what will be the point of what they have persisted for over the past few centuries?

What are those classic texts that we studied day and night?

What are those repeatedly deduced formations?

Therefore, there must have been no loss.

Even if the reason is far-fetched, you still have to have not lost.

Zhuge Qing remained silent.

He could tell what the clan chief was saying—those words were meant for those who were willing to listen, for those who needed a way out.

He doesn't want to listen, nor does he need to.

Zhuge Qing picked up his teacup and took a sip.

The tea was cold and bitter.

He put down his teacup, got up, and walked outside.

Zhuge Gong called out to him, "Aqing, where are you going?"

Zhuge Qing didn't even turn his head: "Let's go for a walk."

He walked out of the council hall, across the village's stone-paved road, past the ancestral hall, and past the five-hundred-year-old ginkgo tree.

A night breeze blew by, carrying the chill of early spring.

He stood at the entrance of the village, looking up at the sky.

Today, the sun was obscured by clouds, and the sky was overcast.

Zhuge Qing stared at it for a long time, then suddenly laughed.

If you lose, you lose.

If you know you're not as good as others, just work hard to catch up.

What I fear is not losing, but losing and then being afraid to admit it, and having to find excuses to deceive myself.

He turned and walked back, his steps becoming lighter and lighter.

……

Fengtian, Nadutong Office Building.

Gao Lian sat in his office with a pile of documents spread out in front of him, all of which had just been delivered.

First report: Tang Miaoxing, the leader of the Tang Clan, has been confirmed dead.

The second report states that all twenty-three disciples of the Tang Clan sent to Yanbian have been confirmed dead.

The third report: The three members of the Ishikawa family are confirmed dead, and Ishikawa Shin himself is being controlled by Lü Ci.

Fourth report: Thirty-seven members of the Biheren infiltrator team have all been confirmed dead.

Fifth document: It has been confirmed that the person who had been interfering with our sorcerers' divinations for a long time was an accomplice of Lin Rufeng, and has now been confirmed dead.

After Gao Lian finished reading the last document, he slammed the paper on the table, grabbed his phone, and dialed Lin Rufeng's number.

beep - beep - beep -

The user you dialed is currently unavailable.

He dialed it again.

Still turning it off.

The third time.

Shut down.

Gao Lian slammed his phone on the table, then punched the table, causing the teacup to jump up and spill water all over the table.

"Fuck you! Lin Rufeng! What the hell are you doing?!"

His forehead veins throbbed, his expression shifted constantly, and he paced back and forth.

That's not the plan.

Lin Rufeng was the first candidate for temporary worker in Northeast China.

After the previous temporary worker retired, Gao Lian devised a plan with him to lure out the hidden Bihe Ren in the country under the guise of the Demon Blade, and then wipe them all out.

Once the storm has passed, we can report this mission to our superiors and promote Lin Rufeng to a temporary position.

Unexpectedly, the demon sword Hirumaru was actually born.

Gao Lian initially thought Lin Rufeng was just lucky to have found the knife.

Subsequently, Gao Lian used his connections to ask Dou Le to contact the Zhuge family and divine the location of the demonic sword, hoping to get there first.

Unexpectedly, there was a sorcerer behind this, and I can't find the knife no matter what I do.

Looking back now, ha, luck?

This was clearly a trap set by that sorcerer—using a real knife as bait to lure everyone in.

Gao Lian was quite pleased when he learned that Lin Rufeng had obtained the demon sword that night...

I can't help but want to go back to that time and do it for myself.

I'm so glad your dad did!

Lin Rufeng then used his escape route to lure out Bi Heren, which now seems to be a scheme between him and that sorcerer.

It wasn't until Tang Miaoxing got involved that things finally came to a close...

Gao Lian couldn't help but slap himself.

Snapped!

My face is burning with pain.