A Scroll of Infinite Glory

The Zhenwu Temple, ordered by imperial decree, has a square paved with square bricks in front of the main hall, and in the center of the square is a large incense burner that is as tall as a person's chest.

At this point, Qiu Shi had already bypassed the incense burner and escorted the seniors from various sects to the steps leading down the mountain.

But on that long flight of steps, several men dressed as soldiers, carrying knives at their waists, were carrying a corpse covered with a white cloth up the mountain.

The leader appeared to be a seventh-rank officer, a burly man. He stepped forward, clasped his hands in greeting, and asked, "Are you Daoist Qiushi?"

A sense of unease enveloped Qiu Shi, and his fingers unconsciously curled slightly as he said, "It is indeed this humble Taoist."

The man said with some pity, "It's like this, the Commander originally sent people to Zhenwu Temple to ask for medicine, but they didn't arrive for a long time. The old lady was too ill to bear it, so he sent me in three groups to inquire urgently. But when we left Jiaozhou Prefecture, we saw Daoist Jiuhe floating on the water..."

The monks and Taoists around them all turned their heads, their expressions varied, but all of them showed a hint of undisguised shock.

Wei Dinggong exclaimed in disbelief, "How could this be?!"

Qiu Shi didn't say a word, took a few quick steps, and reached out to lift the white cloth, but was stopped by the captain.

He suddenly turned his head, and several scarlet blood vessels appeared in his eyes.

The captain was startled and quickly explained, "Master Jiuhe seems to be poisoned. Several of my brothers died on the spot after touching him. We had to use bamboo poles to lift him ashore and put him in a carriage to be transported here. Master Qiushi, please do not touch him rashly."

As he spoke, he tilted the scabbard to the side and used the end of the scabbard to lift a corner of the white cloth, revealing a pale, ashen face underneath.

Qiu Shi stared intently at the face, his fists clenched and trembling slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he let out a muffled hiss.

The monks and Taoist priests around them surged forward.

"Brother Jiuhe!"

Master Zhiyuan of the Sanqing Temple glanced at it from a distance, sighed deeply, and took out three incense sticks from his sleeve, chanting mantras.

"Shangqing Dongxuan, Huanglang Taiyuan, Qingjing Fati, Quanquan Erju, Sanwu Huoche, Quxie Poxiao, Lingguan Dajiangjun, Pouli, Zuiyi, Ruyu."

After Master Zhiyuan finished reciting a spell, he put the three incense sticks together, kneaded them into a handful of incense powder, and sprinkled it on Master Jiuhe.

The incense powder ignited spontaneously without wind, and hundreds of sparks accompanied by a strong gust of wind revealed the white cloth.

The firelight and fragrance swirled in the air before falling and enveloping Daoist Jiuhe.

Without the white cloth covering him, Master Jiuhe's corpse looked even more gruesome. There was a hole in his chest that pierced through his heart, his left arm was swollen and thicker than his thigh, and his five fingers were like purple radishes.

The right sleeve was torn, and there were snake fang marks on the forearm; the skin in that area was wrinkled and shrunken.

But as the sparks on Daoist Jiuhe's clothes and skin gradually faded away, the fragrance grew stronger, and his swollen left hand made a sound like it was releasing air, gradually returning to its normal thickness. The shrunken wound on his right hand also became full again, and two streams of blue blood flowed from the snake fang marks.

As the sparks died down and the fragrance faded, Master Zhiyuan's face showed even more resentment.

He discovered that, in addition to the poisoned wounds, there were at least fourteen lingering evil curses on Daoist Jiuhe's corpse. If he didn't find a way to neutralize them, the body would probably melt into pulp in a few hours.

Grand Master Yanglian took two steps forward, her bright red robe interspersed with streaks of brilliant gold and deep green. She stamped her withered, bare feet on the ground.

Boom! !

The dozen or so people around felt the ground tremble slightly, and a faint flame rose from beneath Daoist Jiuhe's corpse, causing the surrounding air to distort slightly.

From the torn parts of the corpse's Taoist robe, sounds like shattering glass, breaking dead wood, and tearing thick paper emanated, indicating that the lingering evil curses in those places were utterly destroyed by Grand Master Yanglian.

Only the few evil curses entrenched in Daoist Jiuhe's abdomen were still putting up a stubborn resistance, emitting a faint, brownish-yellow glow.

Grand Master Yanglian's brows furrowed with anger, and she extended a hand, but hesitated for a moment.

Because Master Jiuhe's beard and hair had already curled slightly under the heat, if he were to increase his magical power further, it might damage Master Jiuhe's body first.

"Master Yanglian, let me do my part for Brother Jiuhe."

An old woman wearing a pointed straw hat and a plain white robe raised her hand to signal the soldiers to put down the body of Daoist Jiuhe.

This old woman is none other than Master Yuanyuan of the Holy Mother Temple. Some close friends call her Granny Yuan. The temple enshrines the Holy Mother Liuxing, who has been widely revered for over a hundred years.

According to legend, the Holy Mother Liu Xing was the youngest daughter of the Jade Emperor. She was punished and sent to the mortal world as a form of blessing for breaking a jade sword. She wears a pointed conical hat as a token of prayer and is good at helping people with sickness, old age, loneliness and poverty. In Southeast Asia, she is a superior goddess of blessing.

Grand Master Yanglian withdrew the fiery energy, and Granny Yuan took off her bamboo hat and tossed it forward.

The bamboo hat spun like a wheel, flew horizontally, landed at the feet of Daoist Jiuhe, then circled back, circled his face, and finally stopped at his abdomen, continuing to spin, floating in the air without falling.

The murky, brownish-yellow light was completely absorbed by the straw hat.

Granny Yuan caught the straw hat in her hand and tossed it again.

Many rivers in Jiaozhi are tributaries of the Red River, with murky, reddish-yellow water. When Daoist Jiuhe was pulled out of the water, his body was covered with mud and grime, which had just been dried by the magic of Grand Master Yanglian, making the mud and sand appear even more compacted in many places.

This time, the bamboo hat spun past, removing the stains and restoring Master Jiuhe's cleanliness.

When Qiu Di arrived at the front, she saw Daoist Jiuhe in this state.

If it weren't for the hole in his chest, this magnanimous and carefree Taoist priest would look as if he were simply asleep.

A bird chirped in the air, and a large peacock flew out of the Zhenwu Temple and landed next to Daoist Jiuhe.

The peacock's tail feathers brushed against Daoist Jiuhe's trouser leg. It walked around Daoist Jiuhe a few steps, but instead of pecking at him as usual, it lowered its head and nudged Daoist Jiuhe's cheek.

Master Jiuhe could no longer press its head down. The peacock stood there blankly for a moment, then suddenly raised its head to the sky, flapped its wings and cried out in the wind.

Amidst the cries, there was also a sense of sorrow that evoked sighs.

Guan Luoyang stood among the crowd, watching this scene, his heart heavy.

The scenes of my conversation with Master Jiuhe not long ago are still vivid in my mind. I remember his soft smile in the noodle shop, but it has become a memory that can never be seen again.

The body of Daoist Jiuhe was brought to the main hall, where his disciples and young disciples set up the mourning hall and wore mourning clothes.

By the afternoon, the news had reached the foot of the mountain, and people came in droves to pay their respects and offer sacrifices.

Guan Luoyang saw Lao Hei lingering on the stone steps, hesitant to come in, so he took the initiative to approach him.

"Are you here to pay respects to Master Jiuhe?"

"It's you!" Old Hei recognized Guan Luoyang. His eyes reddened, and he bowed mournfully. "Honorable sir, could you please go in and offer incense to Daoist Jiuhe for me? He was such a good man, a living god. He shouldn't have died so young. I can't even get into this temple. Please go and see him for me!!"

Old Hei was very grief-stricken, and his words were somewhat incoherent, but Guan Luoyang understood what he meant.

"it is good."

Guan Luoyang responded softly, and after entering the mourning hall, he knelt and bowed three times to Daoist Jiuhe.

He had only bowed before, but these three kneelings were on behalf of Lao Hei.

As Qiu Shi stood up, he tugged at Qiu Shi's sleeve and whispered, "That's the owner of Lao Hei's Noodle Shop, right? Don't let him stay there, or the monks will see him. Take him from the back mountain into the guest room courtyard. Let him stay there for a while."

Guan Luoyang asked, "You know about him?"

"My master told me."

Qiu Shi lowered his eyes and said in a hoarse voice, "Master doesn't eat noodles and never goes to noodle shops, but my uncle asked him for a few words, which aroused his curiosity. After giving him those words, he secretly went to see them that very night."

"The main thing is that I can't let my senior brother Jiuying know; he's an old-fashioned person..."

The words from that day still echoed in his ears. Guan Luoyang remained silent for a few breaths, then sighed softly and went out to take Lao Hei to the back mountain.

Master Jiuhe lay in state for seven days, and all the disciples of the Qiu generation from Zhenwu Temple rushed back, but Master Jiuying was still nowhere to be found.

The entire Fengzhao Zhenwu Temple was immersed in a sorrowful and silent atmosphere, but deep within the sadness and worry, something repressed was brewing.

On the seventh day, hundreds of families still came from various prefectures to offer their condolences, and the crowds only thinned out slightly as the dew grew heavy late at night.

Dozens of Taoist priests, dressed in mourning clothes, carrying lanterns and swords, rose in unison and solemnly guarded various parts of the Zhenwu Temple.

The area outside the mourning hall was covered with a layer of wood ash. From the mourning hall to the mountain gate, a bamboo pole was inserted every foot, and a piece of paper money was pasted on it.

At Qiu Shi's request, Guan Luoyang used a force that combined both strength and gentleness to forcefully pierce through the stone bricks and reach into the soil.

He planted the last bamboo pole at the mountain gate and looked up.

In front of the main hall, Qiu Di stood there carrying a white lantern, glancing back at the mourning hall.

Qiu Shi circled the body of Daoist Jiuhe, placing seven lamps along the way. He walked step by step toward the body, dropping a yellow talisman into each lamp.

The belief that a person's soul returns on the seventh day after death is actually a vague legend. Many people's souls do not have this opportunity, or they cannot find their way back to the mortal world after returning.

However, since Daoist Jiuhe had achieved great success in his cultivation, Qiushi had specially arranged such a grand display to ensure that Daoist Jiuhe's soul would have the opportunity to return to the mortal realm once more.

"For a virtuous person, death is merely the end of this life in the mortal world, not the true end."

Qiu Shi brandished his magic sword, circling the hall while chanting incantations to summon the soul, and silently reciting them in his mind.

"Uncle-Master, please come back. Come back and tell me everything you saw. Come back and tell me any clue you could find..."

A breeze blew from the foot of the mountain, winding its way up the long stone steps, causing the paper money on each bamboo pole to flutter.

Whoosh!!!

Inside the mourning hall, the flames of seven small oil lamps simultaneously shot up half a foot high.