Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Old Taoist Recalls Past Affairs, The Scholar Was Born to Fulfill His Destiny

The moon seldom shines upon an idle visitor at the firewood gate; tonight, the carriage has come solely for an old friend’s sake.

“The century-old promise has passed by several years now, yet the venerable gentleman has never arrived. It is not that my brother, Lord Mountain, is unable to control his monstrous nature, but that he is far too consumed with longing for our father, Master Old Mountain, and thus has been compelled to stir up so much trouble again.” Zhao Yueyu’s expression was cold and serene; in just a few words, she made her meaning clear.

Song Mo and his companions understood much from these words. It seemed the Lame Daoist truly was the master who subdued the monstrous scourge in Changning County a hundred years ago.

But in Zhao Yueyu’s explanation, they also heard a subtle reproach. Though she appeared to be speaking in defense of her brother, Lord Mountain, every sentence was in fact a veiled accusation: the Lame Daoist had failed to keep his promise, arriving decades late and without a word.

As for what that promise was, Song Mo and the others could not tell, but it was faintly evident that the agreement between the Lame Daoist and the siblings a century ago was closely tied to Old Master Mountain.

At this point, Song Mo’s suspicions were all but confirmed. Just as he had guessed, Lord Mountain and Zhao Yueyu were not evil by nature. If they had truly intended to bring calamity to the land, they would not have waited a century.

The reason Lord Mountain had recently committed crimes in Changning County was simply to force the Lame Daoist to reveal himself. Even then, Lord Mountain had not resorted to wanton slaughter—he had only targeted the descendants of those who built the temple a hundred years ago.

With this, Song Mo finally understood the meaning behind his earlier remark—when he’d exposed Lord Mountain’s impersonation of the Lame Daoist and mentioned having seen the real one at the Zhang residence that day.

Though Song Mo did not know the full truth, Lord Mountain certainly did. He was but a false Lame Daoist; now that the real one had appeared, he naturally wished for the Lame Daoist to come forward and confront him.

Yet the Lame Daoist did not comply, so Lord Mountain put on a performance before the crowd, with Song Mo, Tang Yixia, Yu Jiang, and Wan Yi as unwilling actors.

It must be said, Lord Mountain’s acting was superb—he nearly fooled even Zhao Yueyu.

The four of them suffered greatly, but luckily, the Lame Daoist finally emerged. Otherwise, who knew what further torments Lord Mountain might have devised.

Now that he understood, Song Mo knew their lives were no longer in danger.

At that moment, the Lame Daoist, having pondered in silence, finally spoke with some embarrassment, offering a defense for himself: “It is not that I was unwilling to keep the appointment, but truly, matters delayed me far too long.”

Zhao Yueyu gave a bitter smile, her gaze heartbreakingly sorrowful. “The venerable gentleman, busy with lofty affairs, is now before us at last. My brother and I dare to ask but one thing of you.”

With that, Zhao Yueyu fixed her eyes intently on the Lame Daoist, sorrow heavy in her voice. “Venerable sir, where is our father?”

As soon as the question left her lips, Song Mo and the others saw the Lame Daoist’s face turn grim. He seized his wine gourd and drank hastily, spilling much of it in his agitation.

The scent of wine drifted through the air. The Lame Daoist wiped his brow with a greasy sleeve.

“Ah, that... well...” the Lame Daoist stammered, unable to form a reply.

Zhao Yueyu’s eyes dimmed; she covered her face with her sleeve and began to weep.

“A hundred years ago, you promised that my brother and I could benefit the people of Sheepgut Mountain. We have done our best, fearing any misstep or neglect. Yet a century has passed, and you have broken your word.” Her sorrow was uncontrollable—her tears fell like rain on pear blossoms.

Zhang Xiaoguang hesitated, then gathered her into his arms. In that moment, he suddenly seemed like a man. Facing the Lame Daoist, Zhang Xiaoguang’s brows bristled with anger as he shouted, “You, Daoist, are terribly unworthy! My wife and her brother placed such trust in you, yet you are nothing but a treacherous beast who breaks his word. Is there anything more contemptible?”

The Lame Daoist looked around awkwardly, wanting to defend himself but unable to utter a word, truly pitiful.

“White-haired old knave, bearded villain, you bully my brother and me because our cultivation is inferior. If you do not kill all present today, I swear I will ruin your cultivation and scatter your soul to the depths beneath the earth!” Lord Mountain hurled himself at the glowing barrier again, only to be thrown back. Gritting his teeth, he cursed the Lame Daoist.

The Lame Daoist was silent for a long time before he finally sighed. “Alas, I did not expect you two to misunderstand me so deeply. Very well, I will tell you everything from the beginning.”

As he spoke, he pointed with a finger, and the formation imprisoning Lord Mountain vanished instantly.

Freed, Lord Mountain did not attack again, but stood aside, watching the Lame Daoist coldly.

All eyes turned to the Lame Daoist, who took a swig of wine and began to speak: “It is a tale of fate. A hundred years ago, if I recall, it was the thirty-second year of Hengliang. I was traveling through Sheepgut Mountain when I sensed a disturbance in the land, demon energy rampant. Upon inquiry, I learned that much bloodshed had been caused in Changning County by these two siblings.

“At first, I meant to slay the monsters and restore peace. But when I found the siblings, I discovered they possessed a spiritual aura faintly in accord with the Heavenly Way. Upon questioning, I learned the truth of the matter.”

Up to this point, the Lame Daoist’s story matched that of Lord Mountain and Zhao Yueyu, proving their honesty and that their natures were not evil—at least, they were forthright monsters.

But what the Lame Daoist said next overturned everything.

“In truth, the temple-building affair of those days was but a tribulation ordained for your father, Old Master Mountain,” the Lame Daoist said slowly.

“Cease your nonsense! When the Celestial Kite appeared, Heaven’s Will warned my father of the coming tribulation. I found a method: if only my father achieved the rank of Mountain God, the calamity would naturally disperse,” Lord Mountain said angrily.

The Lame Daoist shook his head. “I had not intended to tell you, but your relentless questioning leaves me no choice.”

“Please, sir, speak plainly.” Zhao Yueyu tugged Lord Mountain’s sleeve, signaling him to hold his tongue until the explanation was given.

The Lame Daoist mused for a moment. “Your cultivation is shallow. You know of the tribulations of heaven’s thunder and earth’s fire, but are you aware of the severity of the tribulation of mankind?”

“Mankind’s tribulation?” Lord Mountain frowned deeply.

“You believe Heaven’s Will can be deceived, but it cannot. For beasts and insects who seek cultivation, there are the trials of thunder and fire. Should anyone attempt to cheat fate and force their own ascension, the trial of mankind awaits. Eight or nine out of ten fail to pass it.” The Lame Daoist cast a meaningful glance at Lord Mountain.

Lord Mountain’s face went ashen. He understood the implication. It was his own trickery—summoning the temple builders, seeking to deceive Heaven—that had brought the tribulation of mankind upon Old Master Mountain.

“Does the venerable sir not know that my father cultivated for a thousand years? Could a mortal tribulation truly be too much for him?” Zhao Yueyu, seeing her brother’s distress, hurried to change the subject.

The Lame Daoist swirled his wine gourd and took a drink before replying, “The tribulation of mankind is when the Heavenly Way intervenes most. All beasts and insects who cultivate have their flaws. The snake travels the path but must hibernate and shed its skin; the yellow weasel, with its bone cultivation, cannot overcome its appetite; the fox, enamored with the moon, is doomed by sentimentality. Say, is not the trial of mankind the most inescapable doom of the Heavenly Way?”

This time, Zhao Yueyu also fell silent. Lord Mountain’s eyes reddened. The tribulation of mankind corresponded to the Heavenly Way—human hearts are ever-changing, and at their weakest, the fatal blow is struck.

Such was Old Master Mountain’s fate. He was a thousand-year-old spiritual fungus, tricked by the flattering words of the temple builders, lured from the earth, and bound with red cords. How could he have escaped?

And all this was due to his own cleverness, his attempt to outwit Heaven.

The Lame Daoist seemed to see through Lord Mountain’s thoughts and shot him a disapproving look. “Little Shadow Demon, don’t overthink. In truth, I once read the fate of the Zhang family’s ancestor. It was his destiny to gain such fortune.”

“So you mean to say that the blame for the past lies with the Zhang family?” Lord Mountain seized on this, his face dark.

The Lame Daoist glared. “The Zhang family? You think they destroyed a millennium of cultivation without facing retribution?”

He pointed to Zhang Xiaoguang behind Zhao Yueyu. “By the tally of their family’s virtue, he is likely the last of the Zhang line. Judging from his features, he’s a doomed short-lived wretch.”

Zhang Xiaoguang coughed violently, his face turning waxen.

Seeing the scholar’s distress, the Lame Daoist waved a hand. “No need to fear. That old case has run its course. You were born only to fulfill that fate.”

“To fulfill a fate? What do you mean?” Song Mo could not help glancing at Zhang Xiaoguang—so weak and unimpressive, hardly worthy of notice.