Under One Person: I Have a Billion Taoist Gods Within Me

Chapter 52 Meeting the Holy Emperor Guan! Shall we cast a Holy Grail?

The night deepened like ink, and the moonlight grew thicker like water.

Li Yuan walked alone on the official road, his moon-white Taoist robe fluttering in the night breeze. His unhurried steps exuded a leisurely and detached air, as if he were not interested in competing with the world.

Behind them, the brightly lit city of Tanzhou was slowly sinking below the horizon.

A faint halo of light lingered on the horizon, like the lingering dream after the splendor, or the final sigh of this grand human event.

He didn't use any movement techniques or escape skills; he just walked normally.

Step by step, I blend into the night, into the long wind, into the most natural rhythm of heaven and earth.

The fields had long since fallen into a deep slumber, and all was quiet.

Occasionally, a few insect chirps could be heard, intermittent, like a dream occasionally leaked from the depths of this long night, faint and incomprehensible.

As Li Yuan walked through it, his mind did not become calm.

Inside, the majestic Daluo Palace stands eternally, guarded by all the gods, each in its proper place.

Above those divine tablets, a clear light flowed, flickering uncertainly—

Deep within, the divine tablet of the Celestial Master Zhang Daoling still exudes a vast and majestic aura.

That is the source of the Zhengyi lineage, the root of thunder magic talismans, and the river of Taoist tradition that has flowed for thousands of years.

Beside it, the newly erected shrine to Zhuge Liang, the Marquis of Wu, is adorned with a phantom image of him wearing a feather fan and a silk turban.

Those eyes, which seem to have seen through the ages, seem to still be gazing at something, or perhaps they have already seen through everything.

Duty Officer, the Six Ding and Six Jia, the Gods of Thunder, the Essence of Water and Fire...

Countless deities, each occupying their own position and performing their own duties.

The clear light intertwined, layer upon layer, converging into a vast sea of ​​Daoist charm. Each ray of light contained boundless mysteries, and each shadow concealed the secrets of heaven and earth.

And in the deepest part of this sea of ​​Taoist charm.

That moon-like radiance remained clear and perfect, neither increasing nor decreasing, neither impure nor pure.

It reflects everything, encompasses everything, yet transcends everything.

That is the place where all laws converge, the core protected by all gods.

It is also the original place where Li Yuan remains unmoved as he walks, sits, and lies down in this mortal world.

He quietly observed everything in the inner landscape, his heart as still and clear as a mirror.

We continue onward, our steps still measured and our rhythm still steady.

However, if a person of profound spiritual attainment were to observe carefully here, they would discover something extremely subtle and mysterious—

With each step Li Yuan took, a faint "resonance" arose between him and the night, the long wind, the moonlight, and the breath of heaven and earth.

That wasn't a skill achieved through deliberate effort.

It was a natural expression.

Like a stream flowing into a river, like fallen leaves covering the soil, like breath merging into the atmosphere, like a thought arising from the heart.

He no longer needs to "adapt" to this world.

Because he is a part of it.

Or rather—it and he are inherently one manifestation.

I don't know how long we've been traveling.

Suddenly, a temple came into view standing majestically beside the official road ahead, casting a deep, enormous shadow under the moonlight.

That was a temple dedicated to Guan Yu, the God of War.

With its flying eaves and brackets, it exudes a solemn atmosphere, quite unlike ordinary rural temples.

A pair of stone lions stand in front of the temple, crouching in the night. Despite the erosion of wind and rain, their majestic appearance remains undiminished. Their wide-open stone eyes faintly gleam in the moonlight, as if they might come to life at any moment and unleash a thunderous roar.

The temple gate, though its vermilion paint is faded, still exudes a sense of solemnity and grandeur.

Above the door hangs an ancient plaque. The gold paint has faded, but the four characters "Guan Sheng Di Jun" are still strong and sharp, as if the sound of swords can be faintly heard from between the strokes.

On either side of the temple stands an ancient cypress tree, its age unknown, its gnarled branches twisted and intertwined, its verdant green as iron.

As the night breeze passed, the branches and leaves swayed slightly, unlike the graceful swaying of ordinary trees. Instead, they resembled two rows of armored warriors, standing silently and guarding the majesty of the temple.

Through the half-closed temple door, one can vaguely see the incense burning in the hall. A statue of Guan Yu sits in the center, his phoenix eyes slightly closed, his silkworm eyebrows drooping, and five long strands of beard flowing down his chest. He holds a scroll of the Spring and Autumn Annals in one hand and rests his hand on his Green Dragon Crescent Blade in the other.

As the candlelight flickered, the statue's face appeared to shift between light and shadow, sometimes resembling a Confucian general reading the classics, and sometimes a martial saint wielding a sword on horseback.

The two different auras flowed and alternated, making it impossible to tell which one he was presenting at that moment.

On the incense table, the eternal lamp burned softly, its light faint yet conveying a sense of timelessness.

The offerings on the altar were still fresh, and wisps of smoke curled from the incense burner. The swirling smoke, carrying human prayers and reverence, rose slowly and eventually dissipated under the majestic gaze of Guan Yu.

On the temple walls, one can vaguely see the mottled murals depicting the heroic figure who overcomes five obstacles and defeats six generals, the dignified demeanor of someone going to a meeting alone, the composure of undergoing bone-scraping treatment, and the majesty of flooding seven armies.

Each painting and scene depicts the legend of the Martial Saint during his lifetime, and also the incense offerings that have been passed down through the ages.

Li Yuan paused in front of the temple.

He looked up, his gaze passing over the vermilion gate and ancient plaque, over the ancient cypress and stone lions, and landing on the dimly lit statue.

At that very moment, the phoenix eyes of the statue of Guan Sheng Di Jun, which had been slightly closed, seemed to slowly open.

Perhaps it was an illusion caused by the flickering candlelight, or perhaps it was an illusion caused by the changing moonlight.

Guan Sheng Di Jun's eyes did not resemble those of a clay or wooden sculpture, but rather two unfathomable ancient wells.

The bottom of the well seems to hold the weight of a thousand years of history, reflecting a name of unparalleled loyalty and righteousness.

Li Yuan's steps faltered slightly for the first time in the darkness of the night.

His gaze met those eyes, separated by the incense smoke of a hall, by the moonlight, and by a half-closed vermilion door.

In that instant, time seemed to lose its meaning.

Li Yuan seemed to see—

In the depths of those eyes, peach petals drifted into the blood-stained wine bowl, crimson as blood, yet as sincere as a heart.

There is the smoke of war in Xuzhou, the sunset in Xiapi, the dust of a lone rider traveling a thousand miles, and the glint of swords at the Yellow River ferry.

There are tears of reunion in the ancient city, mist of Huarong Road, the surging waves of the river where one went to the meeting alone, and the raging torrents that flooded Fancheng.

The resounding words, "Jade can be broken but its whiteness cannot be changed; bamboo can be burned but its integrity cannot be destroyed," echo between the lines of a thousand years of history.

There is that knife—

The Azure Dragon Crescent Blade is unparalleled in its time!

Li Yuan watched quietly.

He wasn't "looking" at a statue; he was "observing" a divine will.

That divine will was born from the flames of war at the end of the Han Dynasty, condensed in the incense offerings of a thousand years, experienced the projection of countless hearts, and carried the weight of countless prayers, finally solidifying into the holy countenance that sits here today.

That is how the concepts of loyalty and righteousness have been revered by heaven and earth for thousands of years.

And those eyes were looking at him.

It's not that God only looks down on mortals; it's a different kind of "seeing."

It's as if I'm looking at a long-lost friend, or as if I'm witnessing a confirmation that has finally arrived.

There was no scrutiny, no oppressive force in that gaze, only a profound and ancient quality.

wait.

Waiting to be seen.

Waiting to be recognized.

Waiting in this long, dark night, I gaze silently at someone who can truly "see" me, separated by a thousand years, by a temple of incense, by a half-closed door.

Li Yuan lowered his eyes slightly, then raised his right hand and placed it on his chest in a deep bow—a bow that was even more solemn than when they first met.

It was not reverence for God, but a tribute to a divine will that has endured for millennia, and an understanding of the profound weight behind a name.

It is an understanding of everything hidden in those phoenix eyes—the covenant with peach blossoms, the trials of war, the steadfast loyalty, and the eternal loneliness.

And at that very moment, Li Yuan straightened up.

The flame of the ever-burning lamp in the temple suddenly swelled three feet.

In an instant, the lights bloomed like lotus blossoms, layer upon layer!

A figure faintly emerged within each layer of flames:

Liu Bei, the sworn brother of the Peach Garden Oath; Zhang Fei, the bearded and fierce-bearded warrior; the man on Red Hare; the carriage behind him as he rode alone for a thousand miles...

That was not just the burning of flames, but the "story" hidden within the incense, which was ignited by some kind of sensation in an instant and manifested in the lamplight.

at the same time...

A faint, golden glow appeared around the statue of Guan Yu.

The light was extremely faint, as faint as moonlight filtering through a thin mist, yet it was also extremely firm, as firm as a pure heart that has remained unchanged for a thousand years.

The light emanated from the statue and slowly spread into the depths of the eyes of the stone lions throughout the temple. Two faint lights appeared, this time not just a fleeting flash, but a steady glow, as if two guardian deities were rising to pay their respects at this moment.

The branches and leaves of the ancient cypress tree rustled without wind, producing a low, deep sound that gradually merged into a faint, resonant beat, like the sound of war drums.

After three drumbeats, all was silent.

The temple gate, in the stillness of the wind, slowly opened wide, as if welcoming an old friend.

Li Yuan stood quietly outside the door, his moon-white Taoist robe fluttering gently in the night breeze.

He didn't step inside, but simply nodded slightly, then turned and continued walking.

At the very moment Li Yuan turned around, deep within the Great Luo Palace, in the inner world...

The statue of Guan Yu, the God of War, suddenly lit up.

That light was different from the vast majesty of the Celestial Master, and different from the penetrating brilliance of the Marquis of Wu.

It was a crimson-gold light, blazing like fire and sharp as a knife, carrying the weight of a thousand years of loyalty and the warmth of the incense offered by countless people, appearing out of nowhere and settling down among the gods.

The divine tablet of Ancestral Celestial Master Zhang Daoling trembled slightly, and within that vast and majestic aura, a faint, almost imperceptible sensation seemed to arise—

That was the source of the Zhengyi lineage, a silent acceptance of another guardian deity.

On the shrine of Zhuge Liang, the phantom of him, wielding a feather fan and wearing a silk turban, slowly turned his head. His eyes, which had pierced through the ages, gazed upon this newly rising light, a faint smile playing on them—

That was a tacit understanding among fellow outstanding individuals to jointly uphold the traditions of the world.

Duty Officer, the Six Ding and Six Jia, the Gods of Thunder, the Essence of Water and Fire...

Countless divine positions trembled simultaneously in that instant.

In the sea of ​​Daoist energy interwoven with clear light, a crimson-gold vein suddenly appeared, like a surging river flowing into this vast sea.

To merge with it, to resonate with it, and to jointly protect that deepest, moon-like sexual light.

And that moon-like radiance remained clear and perfect.

At this moment, however, a faint hint of crimson gold appeared in that clear water.

That's not dyeing, that's reflecting.

It was that silent eye contact, that distant offering of incense, that thousand-year-old loyalty deep within those eyes, that was all completely "illuminated" by this divine light at this moment.

Li Yuan continued walking at his own unhurried pace.

The Guan Sheng Di Jun Temple behind us has fallen silent once more.

The eternal lamp still burned faintly, but the flame was slightly lower than before, returning to its usual state.

The statue of Guan Yu still held a scroll in one hand and a knife in the other, but its phoenix eyes seemed to be a little wider open than before.

The temple gates remained wide open, but no longer moved with the miraculous speed of windless opening; they simply stood quietly open, like a host seeing off a departing guest, watching the receding figure.

The eerie light in the stone lion's eyes gradually faded, and it transformed back into a stone statue weathered by wind and rain.

The ancient cypress trees no longer rustled, but stood silently, like two rows of warriors who, after the general had gone, still stood guard with their halberds, watching over this temple.

The lingering smoke from the cigarettes continued to rise and dissipate in the moonlight.

However, there seemed to be a faint hint of reddish-gold in the cigarette.

It was as if that silent exchange of glances had not truly ended.

It was as if that divine will from a thousand years ago had not returned to its slumber.

It simply continues to "watch" in a different way.

The night is getting deeper.

The moonlight is growing stronger.

Watch as that figure in the moon-white Taoist robe gradually fades into the distance, eventually merging into the horizon.

And that moon-like radiance still shines quietly deep within the Daluo Palace.

But from that clear and perfect state, a crimson-gold hue of loyalty and righteousness was added.

A loyalty and righteousness of Guan Yu, the Holy Emperor, that will never be forgotten!

The night grew deeper.

The moonlight grew even brighter.

Li Yuan continued forward, his steps still unhurried, but there seemed to be a very subtle "difference" in his rhythm.

That's neither fast nor slow.

That was the step taken after bearing some kind of "bearing".

Like a river that receives a tributary and continues to flow eastward, only now its waters bear a trail of crimson-gold waves from afar.

Li Yuan continued walking.

The night parted before him and closed behind him, while the moonlight draped over his shoulders like an invisible feather robe.

The long wind swept past Li Yuan and followed him, like countless unseen creatures silently accompanying him.

Inside the interior, within the Daluo Palace.

The statue on the altar of Guan Sheng Di Jun is no longer just "lit up".

It's running.

The crimson-gold light pulsed slowly with an extremely subtle and mysterious rhythm.

Each pulse resonates with the vast majesty of the Celestial Master Zhang Daoling and exchanges with the penetrating brilliance of Zhuge Liang.

Together with the myriad rays of the Six Ding and Six Jia, the gods of thunder, and the essence of water and fire, they form an even more complex and complete picture of Taoist charm.

Li Yuan quietly observed all of this.

He saw that within that crimson-gold light, there was not only unwavering loyalty, but also a profound sense of compassion.

That is the compassion that protects all living beings, the compassion that subdues evil spirits, and the compassion that cuts through the fog with the sharpest blade, allowing all beings to see the truth.

He saw that deep within that light, there still lay peach petals, wine sworn with blood, and the dust of a lone rider on a thousand-mile journey.

The fog over Huarong Road.

But those stories are no longer "the past" at this moment, but have transformed into a kind of "origin," just like the thunder magic talismans of the Celestial Master and the Eight Trigrams Formation of Zhuge Liang, becoming a source that can continuously generate profound mysteries.

He saw that within that moon-like radiance, the crimson-gold color was slowly settling.

It didn't disappear.

It means "to settle down".

Like a crimson dragon, it finally found its own abyss, coiled within it, breathing in and out, sharing the breath with the entire sea of ​​Daoist energy.

Li Yuan lowered his eyes slightly, and within his inner vision, his thoughts manifested a phantom image that landed before the newly established divine throne.

He raised his right hand and bowed again, placing his hand on his chest.

This time, it wasn't a greeting, but rather a "respectful seat."

It was the master of this Great Luo Palace who bowed to a newly returned divine will.

On that divine throne, crimson-gold light suddenly blazed brightly.

Amidst the light, a faint phantom appeared, with phoenix eyes, silkworm eyebrows, and five long strands of beard flowing down his chest. He held a scroll of the Spring and Autumn Annals in one hand and pressed the Green Dragon Crescent Blade in the other.

The phantom sat upright in the light, its expression solemn and dignified, yet it also possessed a hint of gentleness that was almost imperceptible.

That is the "compassion" that countless believers have hoped to see during their prayers over thousands of years of incense offerings.

It is only in that peach garden, when drinking with brothers, that "truth" is revealed.

The illusory figure nodded slightly in return.

Then, the crimson-gold light slowly receded, and the illusory figure returned to its divine position, leaving only a faint breath, like a dragon coiled in the abyss or a tiger crouching on a ridge, quiet yet containing immense power ready to be unleashed at any moment.

The illusory image of Li Yuan's thoughts also slowly dissipated.

He continued on his way.

In the darkness of night, the official road continued to stretch forward, its destination unknown.

He walked at a leisurely pace, as if all the distant places in the world had long since become indistinguishable to him.

Just walking.

Step by step.

I don't know how long we traveled.

Ahead, the night suddenly seemed to fade a bit.

It wasn't that dawn was breaking, but rather that the moonlight, having reached its peak and deepest point, was finally beginning to slowly fade.

That was after midnight, the turning point in the deepest part of the night.

Li Yuan raised his eyes and looked towards the horizon.

That bright moon was hanging directly in the sky, perfectly round and impeccably bright.

The moonlight, like a ribbon, falls upon the earth, shrouding all things in heaven and earth in a hazy silver veil.

He looked at the moon.

Within the inner vision, that moon-like radiance was also watching him.

Two moons, one outer and one inner, one in the sky and one in the heart, reflect each other from afar at this moment.

And just then...

Li Yuan's expression suddenly shifted slightly.

It was only because, in the darkness of the night, a faint sense of connection pierced through the darkness and quietly settled upon the lake of my heart.

That was the "cause" he had left behind.

At this moment, it is returning to him, carrying the aura of "fruit".

He looked up at the northern horizon.

The night was deep, and the Milky Way hung low.

But in that higher, deeper place, beyond the sight of ordinary people—

A golden light was flying in from the far distance.

The golden light was incredibly fast; one moment it was on the horizon, and the next it was within a hundred feet.

If anyone could see it with spiritual eyes, they would be able to see the true form of that golden light—

It was a small yellow paper figure about seven inches tall.

Its entire body was enveloped in a pale golden runic light, a light unlike the bright and dazzling light of ordinary spells.

Rather, it possesses an extremely understated and refined quality, like condensing a bright moon into a single point on your fingertip.

Behind the little figure, a faint, almost imperceptible golden trail trailed behind.

Within its trajectory, countless tiny illusory talismans flashed by, leaving behind "marks" naturally as it flew away.

Even more astonishingly, as the little man flew away, layers upon layers of illusory figures faintly appeared within the golden light surrounding him.