Chapter 138: Also a Man of Letters

Lacking the imperial decrees of the imperial court and the iron-tally vermilion documents bound in gold-stitched silk and silver books from the Ministry of Rites, coupled with a prolonged absence of mortal incense offerings, the true gold-plated form of the Earth God, Lin Xiuzhi, had long since decayed into utter ruin. To call him a mere lonely, wandering ghost would not be far from the truth.

Had it not been for the formidable strength of the local Mountain God, who leveraged the terrain of the peaks to construct a grand protective formation that preserved the geomantic fortune of several hundred square miles, Lin Xiuzhi would likely have long ago had his soul scattered and his mortal existence obliterated.

Even possessing a spring of spiritual water and a stalk of gold-inlaid-jade spiritual bamboo amounted to nothing more than being rootless duckweed.

He Chang'an and Lin Xiuzhi sat directly on the ground. One man, one deity, they spoke little, yet drank swiftly. In the blink of an eye, they had downed three large bowls together.

The down-and-out Earth God raised his head to sigh heavily, pointing to his azure scholar's robe and mocking himself, "Look at this. It is still better to be a scholar. When all is said and done, this appearance is truly not bad at all."

He Chang'an smiled and said nothing.

Matters concerning geomantic fortune, spiritual suppressing objects, mountain gods, earth gods, and city gods were far too distant from him. Even after perusing a vast number of case files in the Exorcism Bureau, his knowledge of these things remained pitifully scant.

It seemed that throughout the archives of the entire Great Tang Dynasty, records concerning divine spirits were exceedingly rare.

Initially, He Chang'an had not given it much thought, but reflecting upon it now, doubts inevitably lingered in his heart.

However, they were merely doubts. With matters touching upon national fortune and the doctrinal divergences of Confucian sages, what the hell could he—a mere ninth-rank martial artist and low-tier exorcist of the Yellow Grade—possibly know, even if he wanted to voice an opinion?

Therefore, the best course of response was simply to listen for the time being.

With three bowls of wine down his throat, the Earth God opened the floodgates of his speech, chattering endlessly as if he intended to spew out all the idle nonsense he had bottled up over the past one or two millennia all at once just to satisfy his craving.

From his rambling discourse, He Chang'an managed to piece together a general outline. The imperial investitures of divine titles for mountain gods, earth deities, the Five Sacred Mountains, rivers, lakes, seas, city gods, and judges had once been a matter of utmost importance to successive generations of human monarchs, traditionally organized by the Ministry of Rites.

Later on, as the years flowed by and the fortune of the human race gradually waned, after several major wars, the country was shattered and the mountains and rivers broken. Even that great city of Chang'an had nearly been breached three times. The notion of relying on mountain and earth gods to nurture and suppress geomantic fortune had almost become a laughingstock.

Compounding this, on several subsequent occasions, mountain gods and city gods were contaminated by dark and malevolent qi, ruining their Dao foundations and true golden bodies, causing them to suffer deviations in their practice. The resulting catastrophes ended up being several times worse than those caused by ordinary demons and ghosts.

This was because these invested deities lived closest to the common people and enjoyed the offerings of mortal incense, making their corruption all the more heartbreaking.

Over time, various civil and military officials in the imperial court voiced numerous criticisms. Gradually, the emperors too grew weary of undertaking such thankless tasks, preferring to focus their energies on grand priorities like resting the populace and sharpening weapons.

Truth be told, this matter could not really be pinned on anyone's fault.

In He Chang'an's view, it was neither the fault of the court nor the negligence of the mountain and earth gods. It was simply because the human race was weak and isolated, suppressed and battered by demons, ghosts, and monsters. That they had managed to hold on until the present day could already be considered a miraculous fortune amidst misfortune.

However, such thoughts could only remain inside one's head; voicing them aloud would be utterly pointless.

One could not simply hide behind the flush of wine and boast brazenly, "Rest assured, once my Great Tang sweeps away the demons and monsters of the four seas, we shall re-invest the gods of the Three Mountains, Five Sacred Mountains, and the Five Lakes and Four Seas!"

"Mr. Lin, come, let us drink." He Chang'an could only continually urge him to drink.

In truth, he still harbored a lingering doubt: since this Earth God, Lin Xiuzhi, was fundamentally nothing more than a wisp of a remnant soul, exactly where on earth had those dozen bowls of wine gone?

An aged scholar standing less than two feet tall, talkative, possessing a formidable capacity for alcohol, and boasting a rather decent appearance—He Chang'an actually rather liked him.

The only thing that somewhat irritated him was that this aged scholar of the Great Jin Dynasty kept incessantly inquiring about who the current emperor was, which master the Minister of Rites had studied under, what kind of poetry and essays contemporary scholars favored, and who currently lorded over the Five Sacred Mountains...

He Chang'an had several times wanted to say, "My dear old sir, can you please ask about things I actually know!"

Later on, perceiving that He Chang'an's mental inventory was truly pitifully sparse, and that aside from his looks, He Chang'an in no way resembled a proper scholar, Lin Xiuzhi reluctantly sealed his lips.

Consequently, things became rather awkward.

The man and the deity sat in silence for a long while before He Chang'an finally could not hold back and asked, "The Mountain God you spoke of, is he the master of this Two Wolves Mountain?"

Lin Xiuzhi sighed, offering a wry smile. "To refer to a dignified Mountain God as a mountain master makes it sound like some unruly bandit den in the jianghu."

He Chang'an muttered inwardly that a dignified Earth God who had not received a single coin of incense money in countless years and had been reduced to cadging drinks was surely in a state even worse than a bandit den in the jianghu.

Outwardly, however, he remained entirely calm, smiling as he replied, "Ignorance is no crime; Mr. Lin can simply treat me as an illiterate."

"You cannot quite be called illiterate; that would be a bullying way to put it. In this Earth God's view, you, He Chang'an, are simply a half-full pitcher," Lin Xiuzhi smacked his lips, stroked his beard, and laughed.

"At best, you are a half-baked scholar who has read half a belly of books and possesses a few stray droplets of righteous qi."

"..."

He Chang'an choked on a mouthful of wine, taking a long while to force it down. No wonder this Earth God had only managed to secure the lowest rank of divinity back in the day, and in such a godforsaken backwater to boot—he truly had no idea how to talk to people.

"Speaking of which, this Mountain God can be considered a half-baked ancestor of the Great Tang emperors. He also shares the surname Li," Lin Xiuzhi gulped down a mouthful of wine and mumbled, "Have you ever heard the saying 'Peaches and plums do not speak, yet a path is naturally worn beneath them'? That is precisely what is said of the one up on the mountain."

"I have heard of it." He Chang'an had indeed heard the phrase, only he had never quite grasped its deeper implications.

"Ah, not too bad then, you've even heard this phrase," Lin Xiuzhi stroked his beard, chuckled heartily, and continued, "The meaning of this phrase is very straightforward. It means that peach and plum trees do not speak, yet people flock to admire their blossoms and harvest their fruits. Do you understand now?"

He Chang'an shook his head, still somewhat confused.

Lin Xiuzhi sighed, yet retained enough patience to continue offering earnest guidance. "This is the 'comparison' technique from the ancient categories of poetry—fu, bi, and xing. It is a metaphor comparing our Lord Mountain God to someone of lofty character, loyal and upright, who has no need to boast of himself because others naturally perceive how immensely formidable he is."

He Chang'an finally understood.

This Lin Xiuzhi's scholarship evidently fell short of the aged scholar, Mr. Lv. If the aged scholar were to explain this phrase, He Chang'an guaranteed he would understand it the moment he heard it.

The aged scholar might ponder it earnestly and explain it thus: 'You, He Chang'an, are such an upright and kind person—have you ever said anything about it? Of course not. Peaches and plums do not speak, yet a path is naturally worn beneath them—that is roughly what it means...'

Just listen to that; this was the gap between scholars.

The exact same phrase, interpreted by different scholars, carried a subtle difference in height that might well span a hundred thousand miles.

Once the jar of wine was drained to the bottom, Lin Xiuzhi ultimately did not reveal the true name of the local Mountain God, and He Chang'an did not press him.

So long as he understood that passing through this great mountain should not entail any unexpected mishaps, and that the Lord Mountain God spent his years in deep seclusion and completely ignored mortal affairs, that was quite enough for him.

Taking his leave of the Earth God Lin Xiuzhi, He Chang'an shouldered a few ordinary green bamboo poles and returned to his original campsite. Seeing that Lang Fei had packed up the tents and neatly folded them away, a wave of comfort washed over him.

Especially when he recalled that his storage bag now contained two additional items, he felt even more comfortable.

Human nature being what it was, if you treated someone as an enemy or a piece of trash, then they would act as your enemy or your trash.

Yet when you gave him a task to perform—even something as trivial as packing up a tent—for that young demon, it was no different from He Chang'an explicitly telling him: 'If you don't work, you don't get dinner tonight.'

Consequently, the look the youth cast toward He Chang'an...

Grew even more venomous.