Chapter 229: He Only Missed Your Grandfather

Chen Changsheng rode the Taiqing Sword to the edge of the Spirit Cage, stopping beneath the Great Wall. He looked down into a deep, misty darkness, unable to discern what lay within.

After a long moment of thought, he gripped the Taiqing Sword and leaped inside.

Instantly, darkness swallowed him. A brief dizziness later, light gradually returned to his vision.

The instant he stepped into this realm, Chen Changsheng felt the Spiritual Energy here was thin.

Lifting his gaze, Chen Changsheng found himself standing on a mountaintop. Looking down, he saw a District-Town nestled in the valley below. Faint figures moved about within, a scene of bustling activity and noise.

“It was so calm…”

Chen Changsheng was surprised. Sheathing the Taiqing Sword, he strode toward the District-Town.

In just a few steps, fate came calling.

.

.

Chen Changsheng returned to the Flowing Cloud Temple.

Entering the courtyard, the first sight was Moyuan practicing with sparks. He had learned a bit of the Samadhi True Flame, though he was still clumsy. Once mastered, it wouldn’t be these little sparks anymore.

“The Master has returned.”

Moyuan greeted him eagerly, grinning. “Mr. Chen, just who was that Third Prince? He gifted such a powerful divine ability so casually!”

Chen Changsheng replied, “He wasn’t human.”

Moyuan paused, then understood. “A demon? Impossible… even I couldn’t see through it?”

“Not a demon either.”

Truthfully, Chen Changsheng couldn’t identify exactly what Third Prince Nezha was. He wasn’t a Dharma Form, nor a Remnant Soul. However you looked at it, it felt strange.

Chen Changsheng continued, gesturing dismissively. “The Samadhi True Flame is an extraordinary divine ability. Practice diligently. When you combine it with your Dragon Breath, the power shouldn’t be insignificant.”

Moyuan nodded firmly. “Of course.”

Chen Changsheng gave a slight nod and headed towards the backyard. Midway, he added, “A young man will come up the mountain tomorrow. Have him offer three sticks of incense in the temple’s Main Hall first, then meet me in the back courtyard.”

Moyuan, still puzzling over the Third Prince, snapped to attention. “Yes, Master.”

He watched as his master entered the backyard.

Slowly, Moyuan refocused. “Neither human nor demon,” he muttered. “A monk? Surely not… then what could it be?”

Bored with the puzzle, he went to the temple gate to resume practicing the Samadhi True Flame.

Though the flames flared and sputtered inconsistently, he remained tirelessly engrossed.

…

Early the next morning, under a grey sky, the forest was unnaturally quiet, save for the silent growth of weeds and wildflowers.

“Tap tap…”

A knock sounded on the gate of the Flowing Cloud Temple.

The young man standing there wore worn, patched short clothes. His skin was dark, his face smudged with dust.

“Creak…”

The gate opened from within.

The youth looked at the person before him and called out, “Uncle Moyuan.”

Moyuan glanced at him and smiled. “It’s you.”

Zhang Xiaoqi often brought things to the temple over the years. Every New Year or festival, he’d bring Moyuan some food. Back and forth, Moyuan had gotten to know Zhang Xiaoliu’s son.

“The Master said a young man would come up today. Never guessed it would be you. Come in.”

Moyuan beckoned him inside and walked deeper into the temple.

Xiaoqi followed closely, surveying the familiar, unchanging temple grounds.

He asked, “Uncle Moyuan, dad sent me up the mountain but didn’t say why? What’s this about?”

“You don’t know?” Moyuan was surprised.

“No.”

Xiaoqi shook his head. “He was secretive. Asked, but he wouldn’t tell.”

Moyuan chuckled with a shrug. “You won’t find the answer asking me. Ask the Master yourself later.”

Xiaoqi froze slightly. “Dad said after I come up, I should listen to Mr. Chen. But… I’ve never met this ‘sir’ before. Though he mentions him often enough, meeting a stranger feels a bit awkward.”

“That’ll vanish once you do meet him,” Moyuan smiled. He led Xiaoqi to the Main Hall and handed him three sticks of incense from the altar.

“After offering these,” Moyuan instructed, “go see your master in the back courtyard.”

Xiaoqi nodded. He knelt before the Divine Statue, bowed deeply three times, and inserted the incense into the burner.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Won’t you come too, Uncle Moyuan?”

Moyuan shook his head. “Not necessary.”

Xiaoqi pursed his lips and headed towards the backyard.

He had followed his dad here many times, but never entered this back part of the temple grounds.

Looking around as his view widened, Xiaoqi spotted neatly trimmed trees lining the courtyard. Between the trees stood two small grave mounds. Offerings of fruit and spent incense lay before them.

Turning, he saw the pavilion.

A gentleman in green robes stood within, brush in hand, writing something.

Xiaoqi approached slowly. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he hesitated, not wanting to disturb him.

Chen Changsheng lifted his head and turned to look at him. “Come, have a seat.”

Xiaoqi gave a start, then entered the pavilion and sat beside him.

“Greetings, Master Chen.” Xiaoqi bowed his head slightly.

Chen Changsheng’s brush continued moving without pause. “Your name?” he asked, not turning.

“Xiaoqi. Zhang Xiaoqi,” Xiaoqi replied.

“Xiaoqi…”

Chen Changsheng remarked, “I thought it was your childhood name. Turns out it’s your given name. Your dad…”

Xiaoqi broke in, “Dad wasn’t much good at naming things, but Xiaoqi is fine. Simple to say and write.”

Chen Changsheng smiled faintly. “Your dad was once Manager of a Wine Tavern. Not particularly scholarly, but he knew many people. He didn’t choose your name carelessly. It actually relates to your grandfather.”

“Dad used to talk about grandfather often. That was years ago, though.”

“Do you know your grandfather’s name?”

Zhang Xiaoqi shook his head. “Dad never said.”

“You must have seen it when you went to offer incense?”

“I saw it, but I was very little then. Couldn’t read the characters. Later, after dad sold the Wine Tavern and went away, he told me I couldn’t go pay respects to grandfather anymore. He said I could only see grandfather after I had made something of myself.”

Chen Changsheng sighed. “Selling that tavern made him feel ashamed to face your grandfather.”

Xiaoqi asked curiously, “So, what was grandfather’s name?”

“Zhang Wudi.”

Chen Changsheng explained, “Originally, your dad only had the name Xiaoliu. He had no family name. Later, your grandfather had him worship in the Ancestral Hall, that’s how he gained the Zhang surname. By your generation, the number became seven.”

“He chose that character for you because he missed your grandfather.”