Under One Person: The Taoist Priest Descends the Mountain

"This is a page from an ancient book that the company discovered. But..."

Zhuge Gong sat in the main seat, his fingers lightly tapping the table: "I have inquired through all channels, but there is no information on the excavation of any important ancient tombs from that period."

The main room fell silent, and everyone looked at him.

Zhuge Gong continued, "Just now, I consulted the oracle but didn't receive definitive information, though I did get some clues. Thinking back to a few years ago, when the All-Knowing Network was researching things related to deities..."

The group of people looked at each other in bewilderment.

An elder tentatively asked, "You're not going to say that this is the result of the company's research on divinity, are you?"

Zhuge Gong nodded: "At least it's one of the achievements."

The main room erupted in chaos.

"This is blasphemy against our ancestors!" The elder stood up abruptly, his face flushed red. "This can't be left like this! We must take it to the Ten Elders Council! We must put pressure on the company!"

Someone pulled him aside: "Don't be hasty, listen to what the clan chief has to say."

Another elder stood up, his voice more composed: "If this is truly the company's doing, it's actually more advantageous for us. If we could receive personal guidance from our ancestor..."

The main room fell silent.

The elders exchanged glances, their anger gradually turning into thoughtful consideration.

Zhuge Gong sighed: "Even if it is truly a product of divine research, it is nothing more than a divine entity, not a true ancestor."

The elder who spoke first immediately retorted, "Patriarch, you are mistaken! Our ancestor was the greatest sage of all time. He had a backup plan and remains in the world as a ghost. What's impossible about that?"

A chorus of agreement rose from the main room.

A voice, clearly audible, came from the corner: "The Records of the Three Kingdoms states that before his death, my ancestor instructed that he be buried at Dingjun Mountain in Hanzhong, with the mountain as his tomb, large enough to hold the coffin. What kind of legacy would such a frugal person leave behind?"

Everyone turned to look.

Zhuge Qing sat in the last row, twirling a pen in his hand, his expression indifferent.

The elder frowned: "Ah Qing, what do you mean?"

Zhuge Qing put down his pen and looked at the elder: "What I mean is, our ancestor has been dead for seventeen hundred years. It's impossible for a person to remain as a ghost after being dead for so long. Even if he was Zhuge Liang."

The elder pointed at Zhuge Qing's nose, his finger trembling: "That's because you don't understand the realm of sorcerers! Our ancestor was the founder of my Wuhou Qimen lineage, the sorcerer closest to ascending to immortality! What's wrong with having a backup plan?"

Zhuge Qing remained unhurried: "Even if there is a backup plan, it wouldn't be the kind of thing that involves 'possessing a living person and impersonating oneself'."

He picked up the note and waved it: "Someone who wrote in his 'Letter to His Son', 'Without tranquility, one cannot achieve far-reaching goals; without detachment, one cannot clarify one's ambitions,' would actually possess a stranger's body and claim to be Zhuge Liang?"

The main room fell silent.

Several elders opened their mouths, wanting to refute, but couldn't find a point to make.

Zhuge Gong cleared his throat and steered the conversation back on track: "No matter what, we need to send someone to check out the coordinates this thing points to."

Zhuge Qing stood up: "I'll go."

Several elders frowned, and the one with completely white hair spoke up: "You? Do you know how to interpret these coordinates?"

Zhuge Qing picked up the slip of paper, walked to the front, and pointed to the string of scribbles: "This string of symbols uses the secret language system of the Eight Trigrams Formation. When our ancestors deduced the Eight Trigrams Formation, they used a unique encoding method to hide the directional information in the stroke order."

He turned the paper over and drew several diagrams in the blank space: "Each of the eight directions has a corresponding symbol, which together form a complete coordinate system. To decipher this cryptic message, we need to find the corresponding characters in our ancestors' most prized works."

Several elders gathered around to look and nodded in approval.

Zhuge Qing continued drawing: "Whether it's the Eight Trigrams Formation, the Memorial on Dispatching the Troops, or the Longzhong Plan, they can all serve as the base text for decoding. After finding the text, we can use the Earth Plate to determine the direction, the Human Plate to determine the distance, the Heaven Plate to determine the time, and the Divine Plate to determine..."

He stopped, looked at the symbols on the paper, and frowned.

An elder couldn't help but ask, "What are you deciding?"

Zhuge Qing shook his head: "I haven't figured out this last step yet. The Divine Compass doesn't correspond to ordinary information."

We need to find a different corresponding relationship.

Everyone in the council chamber nodded in agreement.

Many people hadn't even figured out what the words on the paper meant when Zhuge Qing had already analyzed the complete solution.

Regardless of other factors, Aqing's talent is indeed very high.

The white-haired elder's expression softened slightly: "I remember you're about to take the college entrance exam, right? Will your mother agree?"

Zhuge Qing smiled and said, "I applied to an art school, and I've already passed the professional exam. Even if I submit a blank paper for the comprehensive exam, my scores in the three main subjects of Chinese, Mathematics, and English will be enough."

Someone chuckled in the main room, then swallowed it back down.

Zhuge Gong waved his hand: "This is not urgent, and you won't be going alone."

The group then began to discuss the matter. Two elders led the team, accompanied by two members of the middle generation; no one from the younger generation was selected.

Zhuge Qing listened without saying anything, then turned and walked out of the council hall.

The elders' hushed whispers came from behind them—

"This child is becoming more and more outrageous."

"Young man, you don't know your own limitations."

"He dares to question the work of our ancestors?"

Zhuge Qing ignored him, continued walking, crossed the courtyard, walked along the stone path, and pushed open the door of the ancestral hall.

"He dares to question the work of our ancestors?"

Zhuge Qing ignored him, continued walking, crossed the courtyard, walked along the stone path, and pushed open the door of the ancestral hall.

The ancestral hall was dimly lit. Incense burners and fruits were placed on the offering table, and memorial tablets were stacked in rows. At the very top was the tablet of Zhuge Liang, which read "The Divine Tablet of Zhuge Liang, Marquis of Han Wu Township".

Zhuge Qing stood in front of the offering table, looking up at the memorial tablet, and remained silent for a long time.

He didn't finish what he was saying.

He suspected that the person who wrote the note was deliberately misleading the descendants of Zhuge Liang. Perhaps they had some ulterior motive, or perhaps they simply wanted to lure people to a certain place.

Regardless, this whole thing was staged too deliberately.

Zhuge Qing respectfully kowtowed three times to the ancestral tablets, then got up and walked out of the ancestral hall.

He walked along the village's stone-paved path and arrived at the old ginkgo tree, which was hundreds of years old.

Sunlight filters through the leaves, casting patches of light on the ground.

He took out the photocopy, unfolded it, and looked at the string of scribbles on it.

"Our ancestors are gone," he muttered to himself, his voice soft. "The dead should rest in peace."

He folded the paper, put it in his pocket, and turned to walk back.

……

At the same time, Heng'an.

In a budget hotel.

Cheng Mo sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed, breathing steadily.

Xia He sat on the chair next to him, flipping through the county gazetteer, glancing up at him every now and then.

Inside the scene.

The mountains, rivers, and vegetation are even more lush than when I last visited.

The stream had widened into a small river, its surface now gurgling gently. Fish thrashed about in the water, and several pufferfish surfaced. The banks were no longer only occupied by cats; now there were several rabbits, and a squirrel perched on a rock, munching on a pine cone.

Cheng Mo had no time to appreciate these things and asked a question: Where is the host of Zhong Kui's divine status now?

A sphere of light appeared, only the size of a human head.

He reached in, and information flooded his mind.

It was blurry; I could see the outline but not the details. I only knew that there were mountains and water in that area, but I couldn't say exactly where.

The sphere of light dissipated.

Cheng Mo's expression was strange.

He then asked another question: Where is the host of Wei Zhongxian's divine status now?

The sphere of light reappeared, the same size.

Information flooded in, and it was exactly the same answer I had just received.

Cheng Mo frowned.

It feels different from when I asked Yaodao last time. Last time it seemed like someone deliberately set up a smokescreen and gave several false answers.

This time, it's like a fog has shrouded the key information, revealing only some irrelevant details.

If I had to describe it, it's like a half-broken radio with a terrible signal, crackling and sputtering, and you can occasionally hear a few words, but they don't form a coherent sentence.