"Then senior brother, I will hold your other hand!" Cen Jun, who heard their conversation from behind, jumped over and stood side by side with them, making the already narrow path even narrower.
Cen Jun always put Bing Nandong first in everything. How could he just sit back and watch since his senior brother had said so? So he volunteered and grabbed Bing Nandong's other hand without hesitation, dragging him up the stairs. He also asked, "Senior brother, how's the speed? We can't go any slower. We're already a little behind."
Bing Nandong, who was sandwiched between the two, said: "..."
Cen Jun continued to ask: "Brother, why don't you speak?"
Fan Zhiyi thought Bing Nandong might be feeling uncomfortable being held by someone's hand while walking, so he consoled him, "It's okay. When your eyes are better, you can climb as many mountains as you want on your own." He also admonished Cen Jun, "Your senior brother doesn't want to talk right now, so don't ask him."
"oh."
When the three of them arrived, Zhuang Yujing stood at the intersection with his hands on his hips, looking down at them: "Why are you so slow? Where's Lin Taiyin?"
"I'm here."
Lin Taiyin had reached the back of the group without anyone noticing. Hearing someone was looking for him, he walked over at a leisurely pace, causing Zhuang Yujing to frown and ask unhappily, "Can't you walk faster? Someone with poor eyesight can't walk faster."
"Zhuang Yujing." Bing Nandong called his name, sounding unhappy. "You're really noisy."
Just as the two were about to have a heated argument, Fan Zhiyi placed his hand on Bing Nandong's shoulder and said, "Shh, stop talking. The ceremony is about to begin."
As soon as he finished speaking, Fan Zhiyi extinguished the fire on his fingertips, and the whole place became pitch black.
There was only a little pale moonlight left, but because the terrain here was open, it was barely able to borrow some.
But the monks had better eyesight than others, so Fan Zhiyi could clearly see that the temple's name was "Fusang Temple." On either side stood three wooden pillars of varying lengths, which had lost their original wood color due to the dampness. Further in, it looked like a cave, covered in vines and moss.
In short, this place gave people the feeling of being damp, cold, and evil. Fan Zhiyi had an indescribable aversion to this place all over his body. He felt a little uncomfortable, dizzy, and nauseous.
At first he thought it was just a strange dreamland, and he was not used to the local climate.
Then, a few people came towards them, without saying a word, but with a gesture of invitation. Since they were already here, they followed them.
Because the road directly opposite the temple was completely empty and all the villagers were standing on both sides, when Fan Zhiyi and the other six people suddenly stepped out and stood in the middle, everyone's eyes turned to them. Being stared at by so many people, Fan Zhiyi felt like he was on edge.
Cen Jun rubbed his arms and whispered, "Master, don't you feel a little cold? Why are they looking at us like this?"
Fan Zhiyi shook his head: "Don't be afraid, they are just ordinary people after all. We will just deal with them as they come. I am more worried about this Fusang God."
This mysterious thing that suddenly appeared and was worshipped by the villagers as a god, based on Fan Zhiyi's experience of reading countless novels, is probably not that simple.
They were led into the temple and, crossing the threshold, emerged into a modest space, a natural rock cave. A single candle burned in a candlestick on the stone wall by the entrance. Its pale, pale light shone on both sides, avoiding the red cloth-covered object on the central wooden table. Several elderly men stood on either side, also wearing identical black masks.
One of them was dressed in a more special way, with more solemn and complicated clothes, and was leaning on a cane. Judging from her clothes and hair style, Fan Zhiyi guessed that this person was the village chief's wife.
So his question remained the same: where was the village chief? Didn't he say he was here to serve the Fuso God?
Fan Zhiyi's mind raced. He had an idea: perhaps the village chief was no longer with us, but the villagers revered the Fusang God, so his wife described his death as a sacrifice to the Fusang God. However, there were too many doubts, and Fan Zhiyi couldn't be certain. He could only wait and see what happened next.
The temperature seemed to be getting lower. Even Fan Zhiyi felt that this temperature was a little too cold in this season. No wonder these people wrapped themselves tightly when going out.
"The Fusang God is a sacred tree and is afraid of light." An old man saw Fan Zhiyi staring at the candle and explained. He helped the village head's wife forward a few steps and knelt on the mat in front of the table. He kowtowed three times, and then the villagers standing in the stone cave kowtowed one by one.
After finishing, the village head's wife murmured something to the old man who was supporting her. The old man gave his companions a look and said, "Prepare the sacrifice."
They placed the wine on the left and the fruit on the right.
Then he looked at Fan Zhiyi and the others, and the old man spoke again: "You are all distinguished guests who have come from afar. According to the customs of the village, you also need to kowtow one by one. When you kowtow, make a wish in your heart. The Fusang God will fulfill all your wishes."
"I won't bow!" Zhuang Yujing was already a little upset by this weird ceremony. Now he, a young master from Jiuwanli, was asked to kneel down and worship something he didn't know what it was. He refused to do it. He had only knelt before his father and mother in his life. Of course, being knocked down by Bing Nandong during a martial arts competition didn't count.
As soon as he finished speaking, the village head's wife banged the pillar in her hand like a madman and stared at Zhuang Yujing fiercely, as if she was about to rush up and tear him to pieces. Fortunately, she was stopped by the old man who had been supporting her.
For a moment, the cave was filled with the sound of "dong dong dong", adding some tension to the atmosphere.
Zhuang Yujing was caught off guard and took a step back, his balance unsteady. He An had to support his back with a hand. Zhuang Yujing also realized that he was a little embarrassed, and his face immediately darkened. He looked at the mad wife of the village head and the old man.
Although she was equally frail, even though the village chief's wife tried her best, she was still easily restrained by the old man with just one hand. This was really unexpected.
"You are extremely disrespectful to Fusang God. Fusang God will blame us and bring down divine punishment. No one in the village can escape! It's all your fault, it's all your fault! Fusang God, please calm down, Fusang God, please calm down!" The village chief's wife kept muttering.
Fan Zhiyi glanced at the altar. Obviously nothing had happened, but the village chief's wife blamed all the future disasters in the village on them. It was really speechless.
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