Chapter Fifteen: Wordless

Leaving the small mountain village, he once again mounted his flying sword in a deserted place, cloaking himself in invisibility as he soared through the air. It took less than half a day to reach the Temple of Radiant Light. By afternoon, Liaochen was already standing outside its grand gates. If not for the golden plaque above the entrance, emblazoned with "Imperially Decreed Royal Temple of Radiant Light," Liaochen would never have believed this was still the same temple.

The temple now appeared magnificently imposing, with flying eaves and painted beams rising along the mountainside—nothing like the humble little shrine of his memories. Yet, in broad daylight, the gates were tightly shut, a clear sign that the temple had not yet opened its doors to the public. Liaochen knocked on the gate, and before long it opened, revealing a Daoist priest unfamiliar to him. Liaochen was taken aback and asked, "May I ask who you are?"

"I belong to the Temple of Radiant Light. We're not open to visitors right now. Please leave," the priest said, his expression sour upon seeing Liaochen was also a Daoist. Without another word, he slammed the door shut. Liaochen stood frozen in place. What had happened to the Temple of Radiant Light?

He lingered at the entrance for a long while, then struck the gate with his palm. The door itself was unharmed, but the wooden bolt behind it snapped cleanly. Liaochen pushed the door open and entered. The priest who had just closed the door was still nearby; upon seeing Liaochen intrude, he rushed over and shouted, "Who is this wild Daoist causing trouble here?" With that, he called out loudly, "There's a troublemaker! Come quickly!"

Instantly, more than a dozen Daoist priests came running from the back of the temple, all dressed in Daoist robes but lacking any true air of the Daoist order—instead, they seemed more like country bumpkins. They quickly surrounded Liaochen.

Liaochen could not help but laugh in anger, saying, "I do not know when the Temple of Primal Origin began accepting such disciples, but I am its Abbot. If you value your lives, you’d best leave now." The final word "leave" carried the force of true power, like thunder, shaking their ears until they rang. For a moment, the crowd hesitated, uncertain.

Liaochen ignored them and shouted, "Yunhua, come out here!" He was truly angry now. How could so many strangers be in his temple while he was absent?

Before long, Yunhua came running out. Upon seeing Liaochen, she froze for a moment, then threw herself into his arms, crying loudly, tears and snot streaming down her face. Liaochen was momentarily embarrassed, his anger dissipating in an instant. Soon after, several women dressed as Daoist nuns emerged, giving Liaochen a gentle salute, thus acknowledging his identity. The men who had surrounded him suddenly looked rather uneasy.

Once Yunhua finished crying, Liaochen paid no heed to the others. This was not the place for conversation; he took Yunhua by the hand and led her toward the rear courtyard. At the entrance, he turned to those following and said, "My disciple and I have matters to discuss. You need not come along."

When Liaochen and Yunhua reached her room in the rear courtyard, Yunhua recounted the whole story. Liaochen was both pained and furious, comforting Yunhua, "With your master here, there's nothing to fear. I will drive them all away."

It turned out that after Liaochen had left, the county magistrate of Shanyang sent Yunhua back to the temple, and, fearing she might be lonely, left several maids disguised as Daoist nuns to care for her. At first, things were fine; awed by the reputation of Yunhua’s master, they dared not cause trouble. But as Liaochen remained absent for a long time with no news, the maids grew bolder, claiming Yunhua was too young and took over all responsibilities. Yunhua, at first naïve, thought it good to have help. Later, as imperial rewards and honors kept pouring in, the maids grew more audacious, managing all temple affairs themselves and treating Yunhua as if she were invisible. Eventually, they even brought in a crowd of relatives from their hometowns to live in the temple as Daoists—the very people Liaochen had seen outside.

"Hey, Master, what’s in your sleeve?" Yunhua’s tears came and went quickly—typical of a child's temperament.

Liaochen smiled, and, as if presenting a treasure, pulled from his sleeve a little fox, sleeping as soundly as a pig. The fox finally woke, still confused, wagging its tail and even managing to grab its little tail with four tiny paws, ready to continue sleeping—a truly silly and adorable sight. Yunhua’s eyes sparkled, and her mouth almost watered at the sight.

Liaochen handed the little fox to Yunhua, instructing, "From now on, this little fox is yours to care for. Her mother has died—she’s very pitiable. Be sure to treat her well, understand?"

Yunhua solemnly took the fox, promising, "I’ll take care of her as if I were her mother." Liaochen could only laugh.

After everything was said, Liaochen told Yunhua to stay in her room and not come out, then strode out to deal with the temple affairs that awaited him.