Chapter 210: The True Master

His men quickly threw down a rope from the top of the wall. Min Zhanlian, with no time to worry about his image, grabbed the rope and scrambled up the wall with his hands and feet, escaping to the terrace.

“Let’s go!” he shouted as soon as he found his footing. His legs were unsteady, and he screamed, falling heavily again. He quickly scrambled up and was about to leave.

“Go? Where are you going?” The red-clad girl had lost her “all under control” composure. She flashed in front of him, blocking his way. “The man is not dead yet!”

“If we don’t go, we’ll be the ones who die,” Min Zhanlian roared, his usual calm demeanor gone. The sword in his hand trembled. It was clear that if she tried to stop him again, he would not hesitate to kill her on the spot.

The subordinates of both sides drew their weapons almost simultaneously. The former partners were on the verge of a bloody clash.

The Dharma protector emissary’s face was pale. She knew as well as Min Zhanlian that he was right. Someone who couldn’t be killed even by lightning must be a “True Master” who had already passed his tribulation. Who knew what other powerful Taoist arts he had yet to display? If the other party really knew the “Five Thunder Art,” he could destroy them with a single gesture, “body and soul.”

But if she left now, everything they had in Yizhou would be finished! Looking at the ordinary believers, their eyes fixed on the Daoist priest as if in a trance, their faces ecstatic and crazed, she cursed inwardly. She had come here with orders from the Shandong main altar. Now, not only had she failed to accomplish her mission, but she had also allowed the Daoist priest to display his “magical power,” causing a complete collapse. She could well imagine what would await her when she returned to the main altar.

However, with a “True Master” before her, how could she dare to be presumptuous? Seeing the tension between the two sides reach its peak, she knew that if the stalemate continued, they would start killing each other before the “True Master” even made a move. Then no one would escape. She couldn’t afford to use any of her tricks now. She just shouted, “Go!” and her group disappeared in a flash.

Seeing her disappear into the rain curtain in an instant, Min Zhanlian couldn’t help but curse inwardly: she runs faster than a rabbit. He could no longer be bothered with things like silver and rewards. With a whistle, he also fled.

Ming Qing suddenly woke up from a nightmare. He sat up abruptly, drenched in sweat. The sound of the rain outside had subsided a lot. He looked at the heated brick bed. His two junior brothers were still fast asleep. A subtle sense of foreboding enveloped him. He quickly shook his two junior brothers, but they were snoring like thunder, sleeping like dead pigs.

He quickly got up, put on his shoes, and went out with an umbrella. He was immediately shocked. The courtyard was littered with scraps of paper, bamboo and wood shavings, and broken pottery. In the middle rolled four paper-mache human figures, each as tall as a person, already tattered by the rain.

When Ming Qing was in Hangzhou, he had also participated in funerals for wealthy families. Seeing that these human figures looked very much like the vanguard gods used in funeral processions, he secretly cursed, “Bad luck!” How did these things get into a perfectly good courtyard? Looking closer at the paper scraps, he could vaguely make out various painted patterns, and there seemed to be talismans drawn on them. He had been a young Daoist priest, and although he couldn’t understand them, he roughly knew that these were so-called “demonic objects.” He couldn’t help but feel a secret fear.

Suddenly, he saw his master: standing alone in front of the iron cage, his hair disheveled, his Daoist robe covered in mud and water, his eyes closed, as if in meditation. He couldn’t help but feel a secret fear and cautiously called out:

“Master.”

His master opened his eyes, his face looking very tired. “It’s you.”

“Yes, Master. It’s Ming Qing…” Seeing his master’s strange expression, Ming Qing felt afraid and asked, “The courtyard…”

“It’s nothing. A group of demons just came,” Zhang Yingchen said slowly. “I have already driven them away.” He glanced at the garbage all over the courtyard. “Wake up your junior brothers, clean up the courtyard, and burn everything in the stove.”

“Yes, Master!”

“Go and make some ginger soup first!”

“Yes, I’ll go right away.”

Zhang Yingchen walked back into the house, his whole body aching. The ordeal of the night had exhausted him, not just physically, but also mentally, with a feeling of weariness after extreme excitement.

He waited until everyone around the courtyard had run away and the lightning had receded before he ended his “tribulation” state and came out of the cage.

Although the Faraday cage was effective, if it weren’t for the other party’s superstition, if they had really unleashed a volley of darts or simply stabbed at him with swords and spears, he might have died even with a pistol. After all, the other party was numerous and in the dark.

In the end, it was mysticism that saved his life. Zhang Yingchen sighed. It seemed that science and mysticism could coexist and prosper, especially for him. Before he could finish this thought, he sneezed several times in a row. Only then did he realize that he had been drenched to the bone in the rain. If he didn’t warm up quickly, he would probably catch a cold and run a fever, which would damage his image as a True Master.

He changed his clothes and drank two bowls of ginger soup. He felt his body warm up. He then did a set of Five Animals Frolics, and his muscles and bones felt loose and comfortable. Then he took a nap on the bed.

Although he was lying on the bed, his thoughts did not stop. He knew that with this trick of electricity, he had most likely scared the wits out of this hostile force, no matter which secret society they belonged to. Zhang Yingchen had a certain amount of knowledge about the various theories of self-cultivation and immortality in Taoism. His “thunder bath” performance, according to some systems, was enough to classify him as a “True Master,” a semi-immortal.

With such a title, not only would it be much easier to attract followers, but it would also give him sufficient deterrent power. In this land of Shandong, where folk religions were rampant, even the long-dead Xu Hongru—the three words “White Lotus Sect”—was still a name that inspired fear.

But what if the other party became angry out of shame, or felt that he was shaking the foundation of their sect in the local area, and sent more people to fight him to the death? That would be an even bigger trouble for him. It was indeed not good for him to fight alone…

He was tired from the half-night’s ordeal, and as he thought, he gradually fell asleep. When he woke up, it was already broad daylight. As soon as he sat up, he found his three apprentices kneeling in front of the heated brick bed. He couldn’t help but be surprised.

“What are you doing?”

“Master! We disciples have eyes but failed to see. We have not recognized your true immortal body all these days…” Ming Qing led the way, kowtowing respectfully. The two junior brothers behind him followed suit, not even daring to breathe loudly.

Zhang Yingchen knew that they had probably seen or heard something. While he was secretly pleased, he couldn’t help but remind himself to be careful. “Don’t talk nonsense. Get up. I am just your master. Don’t talk nonsense outside.”

“It’s not that we disciples are talking nonsense,” Ming Qing said. “Please, Master, move your immortal feet and take a look outside.”

Zhang Yingchen quickly walked outside the door and was shocked. In the courtyard outside the door, twenty or thirty male and female servants and family members of the Zhuang family were already kneeling, their faces filled with piety. Some were even holding incense, and the smoke curled up.

When Zhang Yingchen was preaching in the Li villages, he had also been a “living immortal,” so this scene did not make him lose his composure. His face immediately showed the compassionate and gentle smile of a professional religious figure.

Just as the Dharma protector emissary had estimated, when she had to flee with her people, the faith of the converts who had been brought to the courtyard to watch the “heavenly punishment” had already begun to collapse. They had seen something else entirely—the “demon” had not only not been “punished by heaven,” but had become even more immortal and Daoist-like in the baptism of thunder and fire. They had been given hallucinogens beforehand, so what they saw was even more distorted. Coupled with Zhang Yingchen’s reputation for curing the sick and saving people in the Zhuang residence and Yizhou with his miraculous skills, the believers in the Zhuang residence immediately felt that a truly powerful and compassionate “immortal” was right there among them!

“Daoist priest! True immortal! I have sinned…” a person suddenly threw himself at his feet. Zhang Yingchen was secretly puzzled. He was not a Christian, nor had he ever preached the theory of original sin. How did a confession come about?

Looking closely, he saw that this person was the unfamiliar servant who had brought him his meal yesterday. He immediately understood a little.

“I already know about you putting drugs in my food. There is no need to say more. I have always held all living beings in my heart. You were deluded by demons and committed such a great evil, but I will not hold you guilty…”

The servant’s shoulders trembled, and he immediately prostrated himself at the Daoist priest’s feet and burst into tears. “Immortal, I am not a human! My mother’s illness was cured by the medicine you gave, and I still did such a thing…”

Zhang Yingchen was overjoyed in his heart. This was a good show! If it weren’t for the fact that Wei Aiwen hadn’t come at all, he would have suspected that Little Wei had personally arranged it. He had given free medical treatment and medicine in the Zhuang family, and almost everyone, from top to bottom, had taken his medicine—at least they had taken the rice flour pills.

Zhang Yingchen’s reputation began to swell dramatically from this moment on. In less than three days, all the servants of the Zhuang family had fallen at his feet. Including the original incense master in the Zhuang family, who had also turned against his former masters. Soon, Zhang Yingchen had mastered the detailed intelligence of the other party.

It turned out that his opponent was called the Nanwuliang sect, which had great power in southern Shandong. But there was very little information about it in later generations. Zhang Yingchen had read all the research materials on such folk religions from later generations and had only seen a small amount of scattered information about this sect. Some people believed it was a branch of the Luo sect, but there was no more academic evidence to support this. It was only known that this sect was polytheistic and its doctrines were mostly derived from Buddhism, while also promoting the worship of the goddess of Mount Tai.

“No wonder they have women as Dharma protectors,” Zhang Yingchen thought. However, their various methods also showed that the Nanwuliang sect was deeply influenced by many other local sects.

Zhuang Qian also quickly learned of this matter from the mouths of his servants. While he was prostrating himself in admiration of Zhang Yingchen’s “magical power,” he was also secretly alarmed. Nearly thirty of his own servants were members of a secret society, and there were over a hundred more converts in the village. If this Nanwuliang sect were to follow the example of the White Lotus sect, wouldn’t Dadian Village be as fragile as paper? The Daoist priest’s action was tantamount to removing a great hidden danger. From then on, he respected him even more.