Chapter 3: Hiding from the Wind in the Taoist Temple
“Fellow Daoist, don’t toy with me.” The old man looked as if he was about to cry. “That talisman ash still carries spiritual energy—it’s clearly from a high-level talisman. Who would just casually give away such a treasure? And besides, who but a cultivator would choose to wander these mountains in this weather?”
“I was sent here by that talisman, and I don’t even know how to get back.”
“Could it be a Teleportation Talisman?” The old man’s face filled with shock, though a glimmer of hope lingered. “You… you really aren’t a cultivator?”
“I’m not!” She shook her head.
The old man immediately collapsed, the energy draining from him. Just moments ago he had been vigorous, but now he looked like a frost-bitten eggplant, utterly withered.
“Alas, it’s all fate.” He sighed deeply, despondent, and trudged back toward the tree where he had been about to hang himself. Waving his hand, he said, “Forget it, girl, just go!”
Yun Jiao didn’t linger either and turned to take the small path to the left.
“Oh, girl!” The old man suddenly called after her. “It’s best you don’t hurry down the mountain right now.” He pointed at the black mist surrounding them. “See that mist? It’s a sign that the mountain’s deadly gales are about to start. And let me warn you, the gales here cut like blades—they can topple trees that have stood for centuries. You’d best find shelter, or you’ll lose your life.”
Then, as if remembering something, he pointed to the right. “There’s a Taoist temple over there. The gales don’t reach that place. It’s the safest spot to hide.” His expression grew even heavier, his face full of despair. “That used to be my temple. But I just mistakenly ate a poisonous herb. Soon my intestines will rot away and I’ll die. I can’t go back, so I might as well end it now to avoid the pain.”