Chapter 66: Greed (Third Update)

Lanruo Temple occupied a vast expanse of land; in its prime, it was renowned throughout Jiangsu and Zhejiang, with a thousand monks residing within, dozens of halls and pagodas, and countless devotees coming from afar to worship. Alas, in a single night, it was reduced to ruins, utterly desolate.

This event was considered a major occurrence in the region, prompting formal investigations. Yet rumors abounded, and few knew the truth. Coupled with the chaos wrought by demons in Guobei County, a once-thriving hub of commerce was abandoned, its prosperity shifting instead to nearby Jinhua.

Afterward, the emperor fell ill, and local officials became indifferent, overwhelmed by imperial mandates. Soon the emperor passed away; the only prince of the dynasty was ambitious, and with no crown prince, the remaining royal sons vied for power, plunging the realm into disorder.

Though not yet at the point of constant warfare, unrest spread across the land. Demons seized the opportunity, and murders became commonplace, sometimes persisting for a hundred days without end.

Of course, the turmoil seen in Guobei County was rare. From the initial demon outbreak, which beset the county and laid siege to Lanruo Temple, merchants and travelers began to avoid the area. Then came a once-in-a-century drought, the court fell into chaos, and local authorities were powerless to provide relief. Thus, the present state was formed.

Yi Fan stood atop a heap of ruins, gazing over the darkness. Green phosphorescent lights flickered here and there, and several small spirits wandered aimlessly in the depths.

Scenes from two years ago, and all that had transpired since, replayed in his mind. He could not help but sigh—how fickle fate could be, and how unpredictable its sudden turns.

The films and dramas he had seen in his previous life about Lanruo Temple had little relevance to this world. They were similar, yet not the same, and offered no reliable guidance.

Consider Lanruo Temple: a grand monastery with centuries of history and scores of eminent monks. Who could imagine that a mere tree demon could bring about its decline, even its destruction?

Therefore, Yi Fan never relied on the so-called perspective of his former life to face and respond to this world. He had only one life, and he would neither gamble nor dare to gamble with it.

...

Within the damaged main hall of Lanruo Temple, Ning Caichen shut the door, then, still unsatisfied, laboriously dragged a broken plank to brace it, preventing anyone from entering.

After dusting off his hands and ensuring all was secure, he recalled the words of the Daoist from earlier, and involuntarily glanced around.

“Could there really be ghosts?”

He shivered, refusing to dwell on the thought. He tightened his clothes, added a few pieces of wood to the fire, then curled up in a pile of dry straw, muttering to himself, “The wise do not speak of spirits and monsters... I am not afraid, I am not afraid.”

Just as he was about to drift off, suddenly the hall door rattled, jolting him awake in fright. He sprang up, “Who’s there? Is it you again? I told you, stop bothering me. Go away, go away.”

He assumed it was the Daoist returning, and called out impatiently. Yet there was no reply from outside; only silence followed, making him uneasy. He dared not open the door to check.

After a while, something was thrown in through the broken window. Ning Caichen hurried to look, and in the fire’s dim light, he saw a glittering gold ingot.

“A gold ingot?”

He was astonished, hesitated, and dared not approach it. Instead, he shifted his gaze elsewhere, listening intently for any sounds outside.

Another item was tossed inside—a pearl necklace with a faint sheen. If sold at the market, it would be worth at least a hundred taels of silver, a considerable fortune.

Together with the gold, it was enough for him to live in comfort, at least free from hunger.

But the more enticing the situation, the less he dared to touch it. Who would throw treasures into a ruined temple at midnight to tempt him? There was surely something amiss, and he must not lose his composure.

So he simply closed his eyes, refused to look, and held his breath, listening carefully for any movement outside.

After a long pause, there came a knocking at the door, followed by a soft, plaintive voice, “Young master, please open the door, it is so cold outside.”

Who would be wandering at this hour, much less a woman?

Ning Caichen remembered the Daoist’s warning, shivered, and grew even more fearful. “Are you human or ghost?”

Outside, silence reigned for a while, then the voice replied coquettishly, “Young master, you jest. I am merely passing through—night has fallen, and I heard there was a temple in the mountains. I came to seek shelter, saw the firelight inside, and thought to join you for warmth and companionship.”

“Is that true?” Ning Caichen was skeptical, hesitated, and walked over. Peering through the crack in the door, he saw a beautiful woman in gauzy attire, arms wrapped around herself, blowing into her hands for warmth beneath the moonlight—a sight that prompted pity.

After some thought, he finally decided to open the door, though he remained cautious, holding a wooden stick for protection.

After a while, he moved the plank aside and opened the door. The woman entered gracefully.

“It’s cold outside. Warm yourself by the fire,” Ning Caichen offered a bundle of straw. “Please, sit. Don’t stand on ceremony.”

The woman sat down, her features radiant in the firelight, so lovely that Ning Caichen was momentarily entranced. The beauty before him was truly as the books described—a face as exquisite as jade.

“Sir, what are you looking at?” The woman tilted her head, shy and unable to meet his gaze.

Ning Caichen hurriedly composed himself, coughed to change the subject, “My name is Ning Caichen. I am passing through Guobei County, on my way to Hangzhou for the imperial examination. May I ask your name, miss?”

The woman rose to bow, “So you are Master Ning. My name is Nie Xiaoqian, a resident of Guobei County. Today, I went out with my servant for a stroll, lost track of time, and as night fell, our horse was frightened. My servant and I were separated, so I hoped to stay here for the night and return home at dawn.”

Relieved by her explanation, Ning Caichen smiled, “I see. My apologies for being rude.”

Suddenly, the woman cried out in alarm—her hem had unknowingly fallen into the fire and caught ablaze. She hurriedly tugged it, but pulled half her skirt off, revealing her fair, slender legs. Another panicked cry as she tried to cover herself, only to trip over her own skirt and tumble forward.

Ning Caichen instinctively caught her, only to find himself embracing her, enveloped in softness and fragrance. For a moment, neither spoke; after a long pause, he snapped to his senses and tried to release her.

But the woman clung to him, resting her head against his chest, “Sir, I am so afraid.”

“Please don’t fear, miss. I am here.” Ning Caichen hesitated, then gently pushed her away, “Miss, please wait a moment while I fetch you some water.”

He walked to the corner for his book basket, where his water flask lay.

The woman stamped her foot lightly, muttering in annoyance, “Stupid blockhead, not fun at all. Let’s see if I can dig out your heart and see what color it is. How can someone care neither for wealth nor beauty? Where in the world is such a person?”

Hearing her mutter, Ning Caichen turned and asked, “Miss, were you speaking to me?”

“No, you heard wrong. It was just the wind.”

“Oh, then I must have misheard.”

...