Chapter Thirty-Four: The City God

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On that day, when Chen Jianchen pasted the Ode to Righteousness in the Earth God Temple, he accidentally shattered the Earth God's head. At the time, he paid it little mind, and nothing seemed to come of it afterward. Unexpectedly, after the New Year, upon entering Jiangzhou, a petty underworld spirit claiming to be the Earth God of Jingyang Village began to cause trouble, making accusations and seeking justice.

Chen Jianchen sat upright on his bed, his expression calm and composed. Through this incident, he gained a deeper understanding of this world. The very name “Underworld” implies a hellish existence. He had blown off the head of an Earth God and destroyed its spirit—this enmity was now set.

Yet within, he remained unafraid. With the "True Chapters of the Three Pillars" and the Demon-Dispelling Brush protecting him, he feared nothing less than these so-called ghosts and gods.

…

Night fell heavy and vast, a gray mist shrouding the world, concealing countless secrets in the boundless darkness.

In Jiangzhou City, at the City God Temple.

This temple was built with lavish splendor, towering and imposing, with carved beams and painted rafters at every turn. In the main hall stood a massive incense burner, thick with swirling smoke rising from the ever-burning offerings.

Unlike the humble Earth God temples in rural areas, the City God Temple’s incense burned strong throughout the year, never once extinguished. Not only during festivals, but even on ordinary days, throngs of people filled the temple, coming and going in a constant stream.

Incense, spirit money, red candles—burning freely for the god enthroned on the altar.

The statue of the City God stood six feet tall, wearing a black gauze official hat, robed in vermilion embroidered with flying serpents, feet in pale-soled boots, his expression stern and dignified, carved with such lifelike detail that he seemed poised to step down from his pedestal.

On either side of the City God stood smaller statues.

At the temple’s entrance, a couplet was inscribed: “Good and evil will be rewarded in due time; do not debate right or wrong, early or late.” The horizontal plaque above read: “Impartiality resides here.”

This couplet and plaque were personally inscribed ten years prior by Lord Wu Yongbiao, then the prefect of Jiangzhou. Now, Lord Wu had long since been transferred to the capital, serving as Minister of Rites—a man of high rank and power.

Night had deepened. The temple caretakers and priestesses had long since retired, leaving the City God Temple empty and silent.

Suddenly, a chilly wind rose, causing the flames of the red candles on either side to flicker wildly.

“Jingyang Earth God, why are you so flustered?”

In the emptiness, a voice of authority rang out. Yet this voice was not one mortal ears could hear.

“Reporting to Your Excellency, I went as ordered to question the scholar Chen Jianchen about why he destroyed my statue without reason. To my shock, he responded with insults. I barely spoke a few words before he suddenly conjured a brush, and with a single stroke, scattered my spirit. Fortunately, I fled quickly, or else I would have been utterly obliterated.”

“Hmph, that scholar is bold… You say he conjured a brush?”

“Exactly. The brush radiated unmatched yang energy and an intimidating presence. It hadn’t even touched me before I was rendered powerless, unable to move…”

“So formidable?”

The voice was tinged with surprise.

The petty spirit hurried to flatter him: “It is only because my cultivation is shallow, sir. If he were to encounter you, Your Excellency, no matter his skills, he would be helpless.”

“Heh… The underworld rarely meddles in mortal affairs, but nor do we allow ourselves to be trampled upon. Otherwise, who would still worship and bring offerings to us? For a mere scholar to destroy your statue—how audacious. Even learned scholars from court come here to pay respects, yet this minor scholar dares such insolence? He must be punished, so our spirits are respected.”

The petty spirit said, “You are absolutely right, sir. So, what is your plan?”

“I have my arrangements. Return now, and without my pardon, do not leave your domain.”

“Yes, sir.”

The voices faded like ripples settling on water, and the vast City God Temple returned to silence.

…

Chen Jianchen rose early the next morning, even earlier than usual—for today marked the official opening of the academy. He could not be late, lest he incur the teachers’ reproach; repeat tardiness would mean demerits and could affect his scores in the annual and imperial exams.

There were one hundred eighty-six students in the upper division of Minghua Academy—not a large number; most were natives of Jiangzhou. Their ages varied greatly: the youngest, like Chen Jianchen himself, were seventeen; the oldest, some were already over seventy, with sparse white beards and dim eyes, yet still stubbornly reciting the “zhe, hu, zhe, ye” of the classics in class—a persistence that commanded a certain awe.

This was no mere “lifelong learning,” but rather “lifelong examination”: a stubborn resolve to keep testing until success, fueled by resentment. Without passing the exams, they felt unworthy of their ancestors; without passing, life was meaningless.

To achieve the title of “scholar” and become a magistrate had become their obsession and sole pursuit.

On the first day of term, no lectures were given—only the supervisors and heads of the academy took turns to deliver speeches. While others listened with due solemnity, Chen Jianchen found his mind dull and heavy. In a flash of inspiration, he began to silently practice the “True Chapters of the Three Pillars”—much like secretly reading novels in class long ago, hiding them behind a textbook’s cover, a thrill in itself.

So it went for several days. Chen Jianchen had no interest in the rigid and lifeless lectures on the classics.

As the champion of the children’s examination, his status naturally drew attention among his peers. During lessons, many would glance his way, seeing him sitting upright as if deep in meditation, listening intently. They all nodded approvingly, thinking him mature beyond his years, diligent, and worthy of his reputation for talent.

In contrast to Chen Jianchen’s quiet composure, Wang Fu was lively and sociable. Within days, he had become well acquainted with everyone at the academy and learned much of the local gossip.

One day, Wang Fu approached Chen Jianchen and said, “Liuxian, the annual spring outing will start on the fifteenth of March. As usual, we’ll be going with the students of Qingxue Academy. I hear the destination this year is the Jianjiang Riverbank.”

Chen Jianchen didn’t even lift his eyelids. “So?”

Wang Fu clicked his tongue. “Don’t you know? The girls at Qingxue Academy are all stunning beauties. To go on an outing with them—what a delight, a dream for so many!”

Chen Jianchen curled his lip, thinking, so that’s what this is about.

Wang Fu went on, “Don’t dismiss it so lightly! The daughter of Magistrate Nie also studies at Qingxue Academy. Her name is Xiaoqian, just fifteen, brilliant and beautiful—a true peerless beauty, the number one maiden in Jiangzhou... Ha, I’ve long admired her, and now finally have a chance to see her in person.”

He was speaking with great animation when he noticed Chen Jianchen looking at him oddly. Stopping short, he asked, “Liuxian, what’s wrong?”

Word by word, Chen Jianchen replied, “You say Magistrate Nie’s daughter is Nie Xiaoqian?”

“Yes, that’s right. Why?”

A slow smile broke across Chen Jianchen’s face. “No reason. In fact, I’ve admired her for quite some time myself…”

Wang Fu was momentarily stunned by this, but then he understood. After all, what young man wouldn’t harbor thoughts about a girl like Nie Xiaoqian, so noble and lovely?