Chapter Fifty-Six: Testing the City God

Almost at the same time, within the city of Yanzhou, after a night of intimacy, Chu Youcai and Yun Cuixian fell asleep, only for Chu Youcai to suddenly awake in alarm. In that instant, he felt a deep unease in his soul. He quietly rose, slipped on his clothes, and stepped into the courtyard.

The moon hung like a hook in the sky, yet for some reason, its light seemed tinged with blood-red in his eyes. As he gazed into the courtyard, he was startled to see a young girl sitting cross-legged in a corner.

It was Hongyu. Earlier that day, she had received a whip from Yan Yunfei. After performing a blood ritual to refine it, she had been meditating ever since, intent on fusing completely with the weapon. She longed for strength, eager to master the whip’s binding art so she could ensnare that fearsome ghost.

She was oblivious to the fact that nestled in her arms was a large cocoon. Inside, a brilliantly colored butterfly—none other than Princess Lotus—lay unconscious. Earlier, Princess Lotus had been wounded by Zhu Yuzheng’s feather fan; she fainted, and, as she slept, a cocoon gradually formed around her, enveloping her entirely.

As Hongyu cultivated, the whip grew hotter and hotter; at the same time, cracks began to appear in the cocoon shrouding Princess Lotus. Witnessing all this, Chu Youcai was stirred. He sensed a strange change within the icy valley in his body, as though he was on the verge of a breakthrough.

Yet when he tried to cultivate, he found the process excruciatingly difficult, as though he was forced to walk through blazing fire and cross an endless, bitter sea. By the time he staggered back to his room, his head was spinning and his strength was ebbing away, as though he were drowning, desperately struggling to stay afloat.

He tried to wake Yun Cuixian beside him, but found himself utterly powerless; his head burned with fever. Was he ill?

In a haze, Chu Youcai drifted into a deep sleep. The pain became unbearable, and suddenly, he felt his body lighten—as if his consciousness had floated free. He saw himself lying on the bed below, while he hovered in the air.

“Is this an out-of-body experience?” Chu Youcai was startled.

“Only those with profound Daoist arts, or special bodies such as spirit mediums, can achieve this. How did I reach this state?” He was filled with curiosity.

At that moment, the door opened and an official entered, holding an invitation, which he handed to Chu Youcai.

“May I ask what this is?” Chu Youcai asked in confusion.

The official replied, “By order, I am to summon you for an examination.”

Chu Youcai was even more surprised. “An examination? What sort?”

The official did not elaborate, merely urging him to set out quickly. Chu Youcai noticed the official’s hat bore the insignia of the City God Temple, which gave him pause.

He asked, “Are you taking me to be examined for the position of City God?”

The official looked astonished. “Indeed! Because you slew the monster in Yanzhou’s City God Temple, you are eligible for this examination. Should you succeed, you will gain ten extra years of life.”

Chu Youcai inquired, “Is my out-of-body state also due to this examination?”

“That is correct,” said the official. “It is because the God of War has granted you the qualification for this trial that your soul has been summoned forth.”

Understanding dawned on Chu Youcai, and he asked, “I have heard that if one becomes City God, though one gains years of life, one must be separated from the mortal world, perhaps never seeing loved ones again. Is this true?”

The official merely cast him a cold glance and did not answer. Pointing outside to a horse with a white patch on its forehead, he asked, “Will you go or not?”

Chu Youcai thought of his dwindling years. To gain ten extra years was truly a blessing in time of need, and so he stepped outside.

As he passed through the courtyard, he noticed that Hongyu showed no sign of awareness at all, proof that this out-of-body state was powerful enough to escape even the senses of a spirit medium like her.

He mounted the horse, but found the journey strange and unfamiliar, unable to discern direction. At last, he arrived at a splendid mansion. Inside, the great hall was resplendent, and more than a dozen officials were seated; he recognized only the God of War, with his crimson face and Green Dragon Crescent Blade. Under the eaves outside stood several scholars in fine attire.

Then, in a voice like thunder, the God of War declared, “Since all are assembled, proceed to the Hall of Duke Song for the examination. But to become City God and receive a divine title is not easy. Though you all possess virtue, only the first ten to reach the hall will be eligible.”

With that, Chu Youcai and the others were led from the mansion toward a distant palace.

The scholars exchanged glances, and set off at a run, moving swiftly. But Chu Youcai, weakened by illness, felt as if he floated with each step, soon lagging far behind, unable to help but smile wryly at his lot.

After a short distance, he was left far behind. Just then, he noticed a beggar shivering in his sleep beneath an eave. The beggar wore green clothes and a crooked hat. Though large and imposing, he shuddered from the cold.

Moved by pity, Chu Youcai approached and draped his own clothes over the beggar. Strangely, the beggar did not stir, as if sleeping the sleep of decades.

Puzzled, Chu Youcai was about to linger when the official behind him urged him to hurry on. Chu Youcai resumed his journey, yet a question lingered in his mind: in such a place, why would there be a beggar at all?

With this mystery in his heart, he walked a long way before finally reaching the grand hall.

He expected all ten places to be filled, but to his surprise, only five or six candidates had arrived; the rest of the seats were empty. Was he not the last to arrive?

He sat down and saw the examination question before him, containing only eight words:

“One person, two people; with heart, without heart.”

Chu Youcai observed the other candidates already writing furiously, so he ground his ink and began to reflect.

The City God’s examination was of one’s character. “One person, two people” suggested self-discipline; “with heart, without heart” regarded whether good or evil arose from true intent or mere artifice.

Without hesitation, he wrote: “To do good with intent, though good, merits no reward; to do evil without intent, though evil, incurs no penalty.”

This was in perfect accord with the doctrine of virtue.

At that moment, his brushstrokes seemed to dance like dragons and phoenixes, glowing with white light.

The other candidates were dumbfounded, their eyes turning toward Chu Youcai, astonished to witness such a wondrous sign.