Chapter 22: The Ruined Temple

Jinjiang County, named for its strategic river location, lies at the heart of the central plains. Three hundred miles eastward, between the county and the Blackwater Swamp, a temple was built at some unknown time in the past. The temple stands alone, neither near a village at its front nor a shop at its back, abandoned for many years. Weeds choke its halls, and even the grand hall dedicated to the Buddha bears a gaping hole two feet wide in its roof.

Exposed to wind, rain, sun, and lightning, all that remains of the Buddha inside is a clay pedestal. It brings to mind the old saying: a clay idol crossing a river cannot save itself.

Even so, it is one of the few roofed structures within a hundred miles, making it a crucial resting place for caravans and travelers.

As dusk approached, the east wind rustled the dense forest around the temple. A caravan of seven or eight wagons and over a dozen people halted outside. Each wagon bore a tall flag at its head, white cloth embroidered with four crimson characters: “Shunfeng Escort Agency.”

The lead escort pushed open the half-shut temple door and carefully inspected the decrepit building. It seemed the place had seen no visitors for a long time; cobwebs covered every corner. Yet aside from those sticky webs, no danger presented itself.

“The east wind’s blowing; rain’s coming soon. Move everything to where there’s a roof. Tie up the horses and remember to feed them,” the seasoned escorts instructed.

In short order, several wagons’ worth of cargo were neatly stacked against a wall and covered with oilcloth, a task handled with practiced care. The chief escort breathed a sigh of relief.

This shipment was for the county’s cloth merchants, containing top-grade silk and cloth. If it got wet, not only would their pay vanish, but the agency itself would face heavy losses.

Soon, a campfire was lit in the dilapidated temple. The cook among the escorts set up an iron pot, tossing in rice, flour, and dried meat for a hearty stew.

“Escort Yang, I heard from the returning officials that a stranger has already rid the Blackwater Swamp of bandits and monsters. Why are we still taking the land route? Wouldn’t crossing the river save us a lot of time?”

The speaker was Zhu Biao, a cloth merchant’s attendant. True to his name, he was broad-faced and portly, his skin glistening with sweat. Even with wagons to ride in, the heat made the enclosed carriage as unbearable as the jolting roads. Taking the river shortcut would shave ten days off the journey, yet Yang insisted on the land route.

Yang set his spear beside the cargo and sat cross-legged next to Zhu.

“First, our brothers are skilled, but since the agency’s founding, we’ve relied on our feet and aren’t suited for water battles.

Second, Cai Wei’s words aren’t entirely trustworthy. He disobeyed orders to lead the campaign against the bandits, lost several men, and even misplaced some of the patrol’s crossbows. He’s now been assigned to guard the dungeon.

Third, the cloth must not get wet.

Fourth, as for mountain bandits, Shunfeng Escort Agency has arrangements with most of them. We needn’t fear highway robbery.

So, the land route is safer.”

Yang’s reasoning left Zhu with no objection, but the prospect of more than ten days’ journey left him seething with frustration.

Just then, one of the escorts listening in piped up.

“Chief, do you believe what Scarface Cai Wei said? That someone really cleared out the bandits at Blackwater Swamp? He claims it was a young, beautiful woman.”

Yang’s expression darkened. He was not one for gossip, nor did he care much for official matters. Yet the other escorts grew lively; escorting provided little entertainment, and Yang forbade drinking and gambling on the road. Chatting was their only relief.

What did they talk about? A bunch of rough men with little ambition naturally talked about women. And the only woman in their current rumor was the lady named Bai who, according to Cai Wei, had destroyed the river bandits and monsters.

As their talk grew more vulgar and crude, Yang opened his mouth but did not intervene. Instead, he stood up and said, “I’ll check on the horses,” then took up his spear and left the temple.

He fed the old draft horses some beans for strength and tossed hay into their troughs, lost in thought.

Years ago, he had been a military captain, famed for his exceptional spear work and with a bright future ahead. But fate proved fickle.

A sudden outbreak of demonic trouble in the county summoned the Captains of the Pacifying Office and demon hunters with the Demon-Suppressing Tower. They mobilized three divisions, six bureaus, and the stationed troops outside the city.

Tens of thousands of soldiers, officials, and civilians, led by the Pacifying Office, besieged the demon lair. He could no longer recall how many lesser demons he slew, how many comrades died… Only that, after the battle, he could count the survivors on his fingers. Crimson human blood and dark green demon blood stained the entire valley.

Dozens of captains and demon hunters died horribly, nearly the whole army was lost. And all they gained was the great demon wounded and fleeing.

After that battle, he retired and found work as an escort at the agency.

The long list of reasons he gave Zhu for avoiding the river was merely an excuse—he simply could not face the supernatural again.

Scarface Cai Wei, despite his temper and reckless ways, was honest and trustworthy, never one to lie without cause. If he said the river was safe, it was likely true.

Moreover, Cai Wei was the county magistrate’s nephew; in today’s world, the deaths of a few officials and the loss of some crossbows were hardly major concerns. His reassignment to dungeon duty surely had other reasons.

As Yang was feeding the horses, a slender figure approached from afar, accompanied by a strange melody.

“…To learn from immortals, riding cranes to the heavens. Turning stone to gold, wondrous beyond words. So many joys and sorrows, crossing mountains and rivers through the mortal world, seeing it all with calm…”

When Chief Yang escorted a young woman in a gray dress and conical hat into the temple, her presence brought a sudden hush to the rowdy group. “This is Miss Bai; she’ll be staying here tonight. Keep your eyes sharp and minds clear—no more crude talk or filthy words,” Yang warned, his gaze settling on two notorious troublemakers. “Give up a spot by the fire for the lady.”

Miss Bai removed her hat, revealing a nearly flawless face. Her lips curved in a smile and her eyes shone with autumnal warmth. Even the famed courtesan of Spring Wind House could not compare.

She set the hat by her feet, pressed her hands together, and smiled politely. “I am Bai Xian. Thank you for allowing me to intrude.”

As before, Bai Xian, guided by the Blue Book that had brought her to this other world, appeared at the Blackwater Swamp dock. Following its directions, she journeyed onward and spotted the flicker of firelight from afar. With night falling and storm clouds gathering, she sought shelter, just as Yang was feeding the horses at the entrance. Seeing her alone, Yang brought her inside.

After exchanging greetings, Bai Xian quietly settled by the campfire, placing her small bundle and hat at her side. She tended the wood, then leaned against the wall with closed eyes, listening to the rustling of leaves outside under the eaves.

Perhaps it was the years spent in noisy cities, but such sounds had become a rarity in her life.

A while later, as the wind outside intensified, rain fell in sheets, sounding like beads on a bronze plate. Water poured through the hole in the temple roof, soon soaking a large area. The group huddled together in the corners.

“Miss Bai, it’s late and you’re still on the road. Are you on urgent business?” Yang approached with a bowl of hearty porridge. “If you don’t mind, please have some.”

Bai Xian had plenty of compressed biscuits and instant food in her “little treasury,” but nothing compared to a fresh bowl of meat porridge. Since she had watched the cook prepare it and everyone else was eating, she had no fears about anything being added to the food.

She thanked him and took the bowl.

“There’s nothing urgent, just passing through to visit friends and relatives.”