Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Chasms of the Human Heart Are Hard to Bridge (Please Support, Vote, and Continue Reading)

"Layman Huang, why is this a pity?"
"There will be plenty of opportunities in the future!"

Pondering Tian Ming'an's words, Huang Shiren hurried down the mountain and rushed back to the county seat. He couldn't afford to dwell on those words; the more he thought about them, the more something felt off. What did he mean by "plenty of opportunities in the future"? Why was Jiang Sheng currently in quiet seclusion to cultivate his sword? Was he perhaps preparing to strike at the River God during the Great River God Festival? Was this so-called "future" a reference to that very festival?

After weighing the possibilities, Huang Shiren reached a conclusion: Jiang Sheng was biding his time to summon a fire dragon at the Great River God Festival to deal with the River God! Fire and water were incompatible—what a sinister mind this Jiang Sheng had!

With this realization, Huang Shiren desperately wanted to fly back to Qingshan County to warn the River God. As the sun climbed higher, he grew restless in his carriage. "Faster! Make it faster!"

"Master, if we go any faster, the carriage will bounce too much. Your body won't be able to take it," the coachman advised.

Huang Shiren raged, "What I say goes! Why aren't you speeding up?"

Helpless, the coachman lashed the horse to make it run faster. The horse let out a pained whinny as it galloped along the bumpy road, shaking the carriage so violently that Huang Shiren felt nauseated. Yet, thinking of the River God's grand plan, he gritted his teeth and endured it. "Damned coachman, I told you to go faster, not to shake me to death! I'll deal with you once we're back in the county!"

***

Meanwhile, at Qingxuan Temple, after seeing Huang Shiren off, Tian Ming'an returned to the rear hall.

Inside, Jiang Sheng stood straight as bamboo, dressed in a simple green robe, his hair tied up in a casual Taoist knot. With his left hand behind his back, he held a brush in his right, dipping it into ink. As he swept the brush across the rice paper, the ink bloomed into a landscape painting.

"Master," Tian Ming'an called out softly.

Jiang Sheng did not slow his brush, his expression calm and detached. "Has he gone?"

"Yes," Tian Ming'an replied.

A faint smile touched the corner of Jiang Sheng's mouth. "In the dead of winter, trekking up the mountain to burn incense and seek talismans—that Layman Huang is truly sincere, isn't he?"

Recalling Huang Shiren’s demeanor, Tian Ming'an said, "When that Master Huang entered the front hall and saw the portrait of our Founder, he was clearly fearful and guilty. He rushed out the moment he finished offering incense."

"That portrait was brought by me from Penglai," Jiang Sheng explained. "Though it lacks even one ten-thousandth of our Founder's true spirit, it is still capable of peering into the human heart and distinguishing good from evil."

Tian Ming'an nodded thoughtfully. Seeing that Jiang Sheng wished to say no more, he stood quietly to the side, watching his master paint. As Jiang Sheng placed the final stroke and blew a breath of clear energy onto the paper, the painting suddenly brimmed with life. The mountains surged like dragons, green pines and lush bamboos covered the slopes, while below, the river flowed eastward, white waves crashing against the current, carp leaping—a scene of magnificent power.

The fusion of mountain and water was extraordinary. Tian Ming'an looked at the ink painting, feeling that it was far from ordinary.

Jiang Sheng tilted his head, looked at his work, and gave a light chuckle as he rolled it up. "The Taoist scriptures say: 'If your thoughts are wicked, burning incense will yield no gain; if your heart is upright, what does it matter if you do not bow to me?' That Layman Huang is full of filth, yet he dares to come and probe me. Does he not know he is merely delivering himself to my doorstep?"

Tian Ming'an remarked, "Master, that Master Huang must have been ensnared by the demon in the river, which is why he came to spy on you. But I do not understand—he is a famous gentleman in Qingshan County, with endless fields and countless servants. It is said that every county magistrate has treated the Huang family with great respect. Why would he choose to worship a demon?"

Jiang Sheng laughed. "The human heart is a canyon that can never be filled. You have yet to master martial arts, yet you are already dreaming of cultivating Qi, are you not?"

"The destitute long for food and clothing; once fed and clothed, they long for the bridal chamber; once married, they long for imperial honors; and once they have achieved high rank, they long for wealth and power. Even a house servant hopes for his master to attain the Tao so that he might ascend to the heavens along with him. Layman Huang, sitting on a mountain of wealth, naturally craves more. I suspect the demon promised him generations of glory, eternal life, or even immortality.

"Greed is like a snake trying to swallow an elephant," Jiang Sheng shook his head. "The more Layman Huang wants, the more tightly that demon will hold him. In the end, he will inevitably be flayed and deboned, consumed until nothing remains."

After a pause, Jiang Sheng looked through the window at the mountains outside. "The time for the Great River God Festival is drawing near. Over these next few days, I must concentrate my mind and refine the essence of the sun to draw a fire talisman. You are to recite scriptures and practice your martial arts; see that no outsiders disturb me."

Tian Ming'an quickly agreed, though he asked with curiosity, "Master, why expend such great effort on a single talisman?"

Jiang Sheng smiled. "Everyone in Qingshan County says I am a master of fire magic; even the demon in the Taiping River must believe my fire arts are divine. If I cannot produce a high-level fire technique, wouldn't that be embarrassing?"

Tian Ming'an was stunned. "Master, do you not actually specialize in fire magic? But that day, you summoned a sea of flames that transformed into a dragon..."

He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing. He thought of how Jiang Sheng never forbade the rumors outside, even letting them run wild. Thinking of today’s events, he finally understood why Jiang Sheng had allowed him to tell Huang Shiren everything. Everyone in the county believed the Taoist priest wielded divine fire. But what if one day, he used a different technique entirely?

Tian Ming'an looked at Jiang Sheng in awe. His master, though sitting quietly in the mountains, had already grasped the entire situation and held a strategy in his heart. It was truly terrifying.

Jiang Sheng waved him away. Left alone in the hall, he looked at a blank yellow talisman, his heart as calm as water. As the sun reached its zenith, it cast down golden rays. Even in mid-winter, the noon sun brought a gentle warmth. Jiang Sheng stirred his internal energy, drawing in the fierce, pure essence of the midday sun, while his right hand wielded the vermilion brush to channel his mana, tracing mysterious patterns onto the paper.

As the festival approached, several waves of guests arrived at Qingxuan Temple. First, local gentry begged Jiang Sheng to change his mind and stop the magistrate from provoking a conflict, hoping to save the people from disaster. Later, a large crowd of commoners came, pleading with him not to leave the mountain, fearing the River God's wrath would bring floods and suffering.

These people could not enter the temple; they could not even reach the halfway point before Tian Guofu turned them away—he would not let anyone disturb his grandson's studies. Yet, their wailing and shouting still reached the temple, creating a persistent irritation.

Then, County Magistrate Zhang Qingyun sent a letter requesting a meeting, but Jiang Sheng remained in seclusion, and Tian Ming'an had to turn him away. Zhang Qingyun even came in person, only to be blocked outside. Tian Ming'an would never forget the look of shock and indignation on the magistrate's face.

As if that weren't enough, Young Master Kongxu and Fairy Xu Xiao also came. Young Master Kongxu, after testing the defenses, considered forcing his way in but left in a huff, deterred by Jiang Sheng's reputation, though his eyes were full of malice. He felt deeply insulted that a mere twelve-year-old boy could bar him from meeting the priest. Fairy Xu Xiao insisted on seeing Jiang Sheng for an urgent matter, but she too was denied. She tried to persuade Tian Ming'an, who stood his ground, declaring that she would have to step over his corpse to enter. She left in a rage.

With so many being denied an audience, rumors began to spread: that Daoist Jiang was arrogant and looked down on commoners; that he was cold-hearted and treated the people like straw dogs; that he was merely waiting for the magistrate to trigger a disaster so he could profit from the chaos.

As the festival neared, the panic intensified. Jiang Sheng knew of all this, but he did not care. He was entirely immersed in his work. Though he could only draw a few strokes at noon each day, the vermilion marks on the talisman grew increasingly vivid.

On the final day, Jiang Sheng channeled his mana and the sun's essence into the paper. As the last stroke was completed, the talisman hummed with power; a cloud-seal script resembling both fire and dragon leaped upon the surface. A single glance was enough to feel a domineering, masculine heat as if a fire were raging across the sky.

Though weary, Jiang Sheng smiled at the six-inch yellow talisman and recited softly:

*"The river flows east beneath the Qingping heights, while commoners fret in the wind and light.*
*Though frost and northern snow may bite, my southern light shall burn the river dragon in the night!"*