Chapter Thirty-Three: Closing the Gates

Just as Liu Chen was preparing to make his move, the four who had been meditating in the Palace of Eternal Joy finally emerged from their trance. Among them, Ji Yuan stood up at once and let out a long, jubilant howl toward the heavens. Excitement filled his voice.

“Ah, so it was you, Zhen An, who arranged these blankets? Not bad, not bad! Our saving you back then wasn’t in vain after all!”

Perhaps his mood had improved, for Ji Yuan saw that each of them was wrapped in a warm blanket and nodded with satisfaction, praising Zhen An.

This left Zhen An rather flustered. In days past, whatever he did was simply taken for granted by Ji Yuan and the other two; any misstep would earn him a harsh rebuke. Such unexpected praise unsettled him.

Still, Zhen An had no fondness for scolding or beatings; being complimented did make him happy. Unfortunately, he was never skilled with words, so even pleased, he could only lower his head and quietly smile to himself.

“Ji Yuan, your howl was deep and resonant; it seems last night’s cultivation brought you great progress. Congratulations,” said one of the other two priests as he rose. Though their expressions were mixed as they looked at the beaming Ji Yuan, their words were those of congratulation, albeit tinged with envy.

“It’s not much progress, really. After another two or three days of quiet cultivation, I should attain the rank of Red Sun Adept. Thanks to our Patriarch’s blessing, not anything of my own doing,” Ji Yuan replied, oblivious to the subtle jealousy in their words. He spoke with humility, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his delight.

“Red Sun Adept, then? Does that mean we should address you as Abbot in the future?”

Hearing Ji Yuan’s words, the two priests fell silent, their expressions growing even more complex. At their side, Zhen Chang rolled his eyes and, feigning surprise, exclaimed loudly.

“Zhen Chang, that’s not quite right. Your father is the one who oversees our family’s cultivation, and you know the rules of the Lingbao sect. The position of Abbot is weighty, to be decided by the true masters; how could we presume to guess?”

With Zhen Chang’s remark, Ji Yuan’s joy could hardly be contained. Yet he spoke in earnest, admonishing Zhen Chang without any real reproach.

---

For such things, Zhen Chang only smiled and responded meekly, not bothering to argue.

“Yes, the appointment of Abbot awaits the decision of the true masters, but the Patriarch must not be neglected. All five of us have benefited from the Patriarch’s insight; we must hold a ritual to thank him! Zhen An, Zhen Chang, gather the ritual implements for the mid-feast; Ji Mu, Ji Tong, open the inner storeroom and fetch the fruits, water candles, and also a pair of fish tokens and ten copper scrolls. We shall prepare a mid-feast here to honor the Patriarch’s grace!”

Seeing Zhen Chang so obedient, Ji Yuan felt a surge of satisfaction and at once began directing preparations.

“But Ji Yuan, the fruits and water candles are meant for the Winter Solstice. If we use them now, what will we do when the family’s adepts come to preside over the Winter Solstice rites and find nothing left?”

Hearing Ji Yuan’s orders, Ji Mu and Ji Tong became flustered, voicing their concerns.

“You two are so oblivious. The Winter Solstice rites are for delivering the tormented souls. After twelve years, most should have been delivered; what remains are stubborn spirits. Such matters pale in comparison to the Patriarch’s importance! Besides, there are nearly two months until the Solstice; by then, we likely won’t need the family’s adepts to preside over the rites.”

Ji Yuan shook his head at their objections, sighing several times, then spoke to his companions, his brows arching with a hint of pride as he finished.

Seeing Ji Yuan so resolute and considering that he was most likely to become the Palace’s abbot, the two priests gritted their teeth, nodded, and went off to carry out his instructions.

With supplies originally meant for the Winter Solstice, preparing a mid-feast was not difficult. Within an hour or so, the main hall was ready.

“You two, close the doors to prevent outsiders from disturbing the ritual,” Ji Yuan ordered once everything was in place. Draped in the red vestments reserved for adepts, he stood at the center, facing the image of the Mystic Truth, then closed his eyes to await the auspicious moment.

Upon hearing his instructions, Zhen An and Zhen Chang went off to shut the doors. On the way, Zhen An asked, puzzled,

“Zhen Chang, weren’t the doors never closed during rituals before? Why this time?”

---

Zhen Chang laughed and replied,

“This time is different. Uncle Ji Yuan is still only a script disciple; if anyone finds him presiding over a ritual, it could cause trouble. Besides, this is a private rite for the Patriarch; previous rites for delivering souls were public ceremonies. Different circumstances, different preparations.”

Zhen An nodded at this, but did not ask why Ji Yuan, as a script disciple, could preside over the ritual without opposition. This surprised Zhen Chang, for he knew Zhen An would normally question such things.

Thinking to himself that Zhen An seemed much cleverer since advancing to script disciple, the two soon arrived at the entrance of the Palace of Eternal Joy.

The main gate was typical of palatial mansions, with a central door flanked by two smaller doors. The main gate was always closed; Ji Yuan’s instructions referred to the side doors.

As they moved to close the side doors, they found a dense crowd standing outside.

At first sight of so many, both Zhen An and Zhen Chang felt uneasy. Zhen An managed a bit better, recognizing only the crowd and feeling discomfort at the numbers.

Zhen Chang, however, was different. As a member of the Ren family, he had trained in various arts, including arithmetic and methods of identification. Steadying himself, he realized there were fifty men outside, all disciplined warriors bound by martial law.

“Little fellows, closing the doors in broad daylight—are you hiding something in the temple?”

While the two hesitated, a lean, knife-wearing man laughed boldly, pressing his hand against the door.

“Li Cui, don’t be insolent, or I’ll have Zhao Qian deal with you when I return!”