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Chapter 162: Destroying Temples and Meeting an Old Acquaintance
🕑 Added 2024-10-26 14:52:50 +0000 UTCThe Swordfish Airship soared towards Anping Prefecture. Since it bordered Datong Prefecture, one day’s travel was enough with the speed of the vessel.
Zhao Xing stepped out to get some fresh air while Long Xiao focused on steering the vessel.
A day was more than enough for someone as simple-minded as Long Xiao to shake off the melancholy of recent events. Now, he had grown talkative again. “Why does it keep raining? I can’t even see clearly! Can’t you stop the rain?”
Zhao Xing replied, “The weather patterns of an entire prefecture can’t be changed on a whim. Am I looking for death?”
Under normal circumstances, modifying rainfall over inland areas wouldn’t be much of an issue. However, now was the eve of the Southern Barbarian War, and both Datong and Anping Prefectures were key borderlands.
For someone like Zhao Xing, tampering with the weather was out of the question. It didn’t matter whether he was a genius from Ten Sun Cave-Heaven or even from the Ten Great Cave-Heavens, the Ministry of War wouldn’t hesitate to decapitate anyone who dared mess with military logistics.
Long Xiao, realizing he was just making idle chatter, continued, “We’ve entered the territory of Anping Prefecture. Why on earth would the military assign you such a task, involving the Yin Realm and all?”
Yin spirits resided in the Yin Realm, which functioned similarly to the realm of the living, though entering it was much harder. Only two kinds of people could enter: the dead, whose souls, if intact, would be drawn into the Yin Realm; and those who had reached the third rank of the Primordial Soul stage, allowing them to transcend their mortal form and freely move between realms.
The Yin Realm wasn’t created by the Great Zhou; it had existed since ancient times.
Getting in was difficult, but leaving wasn’t, thanks to incense offerings, spells to summon souls, and naturally occurring portals at the intersection of yin and yang—all ways by which spirits could return to the living world.
Zhao Xing’s earlier escapades in Gucheng, where he made some extra money, involved such a yin-yang intersection, with wandering souls unable to return to the Yin Realm due to certain anomalies, thus lingering in the world of the living.
This was why the founding of any new dynasty involved immediately taking control of the Yin Realm and establishing the Yin Spirit System, to prevent rogue spirits from causing chaos among the living.
Long Xiao’s question made Zhao Xing think.
“At the seventh rank, it’s not just Shennongs who can summon deities. All professions can summon spirits. Once I complete the Nine Tasks and receive an official post at the seventh rank, it’s highly likely I’ll be trained for it.”
He turned to Long Xiao. “Have you ever summoned a deity?”
Long Xiao nodded. “Once I summoned the Deity of Fate, another time, the Giant Spirit True Lord—but that was seven years ago.”
“Only twice? What price did you pay?” Zhao Xing had experienced the beginnings of the Yin Spirit System’s breakdown in his previous life and thus didn’t engage with it much.
However, summoning deities always came with a price, especially the difficulty of sending the summoned spirit back.
“Twice is already a lot! The cost wasn’t small,” Long Xiao said. “When soldiers summon deities, they typically use their own essence blood as a medium. The second time I summoned the Giant Spirit True Lord, it was a matter of life and death. I had no choice but to sacrifice 50% of my essence blood.”
“I probably shaved ten years off my lifespan in the process. Later, I had to visit a temple to pray for longevity, though I’m not sure how much of that time I got back.”
Long Xiao recalled, “It was a desperate situation. If I hadn’t summoned him, I would’ve died. At that moment, who cared about losing a few years of life?”
“Priests have it easier, though. They pay a much smaller price when summoning deities.”
Zhao Xing nodded. “It depends on which deity they summon. If the deity’s rank is too high, even priests will lose some years.”
“I don’t know much about the specifics, but from what I’ve seen, priests are incredible—almost omnipotent,” Long Xiao added.
Zhao Xing agreed. The roles of priests and ceremonial officials were indeed formidable.
In fact, any deity officially enshrined by the Great Zhou could be summoned.
Especially the military priests—after reaching the seventh rank, they could summon practically any deity related to any profession.
Once possessed by a deity, priests would gain a portion of that deity’s abilities from their mortal life.
While all professions could summon deities, their summoning was limited to their specific professional deities.
Priests, however, could summon deities of any profession. For instance, an eighth-rank priest could summon the True Lord of Cao Xi, allowing them to command wind and rain, temporarily becoming akin to a Military Shennong.
If they summoned the Earl of East Lake, they could gain immense physical strength.
In short, their profession was as powerful as their title implied—divine.
Back when Zhao Xing was in Gucheng, he had briefly considered switching to the ceremonial role, as it would have allowed him to experience the thrill of immense power. Later, as a priest, he would have been virtually unbeatable among his peers.
But for the sake of his long-term plans, Zhao Xing had ultimately given up on that temporary thrill.
The priesthood was too reliant on the structure of the Fortune Dynasty. Once the Yin Spirit System collapsed, priests would lose their divine status.
By then, any attempt to summon a deity would result in spirits demanding exorbitant prices for their aid, or worse, doing nothing at all.
Military Shennongs, while dangerous if misused, had far more stringent checks. But compared to military priests, Shennongs were still less of a concern.
“Priests are indeed strong,” Zhao Xing admitted. “But unless absolutely necessary, I won’t summon any deities. As for this task in Anping Prefecture, I suspect my role is more like that of an observer. The real work won’t be done by me.”
Zhao Xing had a clear view of his situation. As a Shennong, he was here to offer advice. He wouldn’t be the one taking down Yin spirits.
In other words, his task was largely one of formality.
Understanding the Yin Spirit System was essential for all officials. A Military Shennong on a campaign, for instance, needed to avoid inadvertently summoning the power of an evil deity.
Otherwise, combining the power of a Military Shennong with that of an evil deity could be catastrophic.
The current Governor of Anping Prefecture, Cui Zhe, held the rank of Lower Fourth.
Meanwhile, the Grand Priest of Anping Prefecture’s temple, Wei Hong, was Upper Fourth, outranking the Governor by half a grade.
Upon arriving in Anping Prefecture, Zhao Xing first reported to the Prefectural Shennong Division, then used its network to send a letter to the Prefectural Temple.
While reviewing the list of officials from the temple, Zhao Xing was struck by how familiar the name “Wei Hong” seemed, though he couldn’t immediately place it.
To show respect, the Prefectural Temple dispatched a group of priests to accompany Zhao Xing on his mission.
The next day, when he received the list of accompanying officials, Zhao Xing’s eyes widened at the name “Wei Xuancheng.”
“Wait, so it’s him. I’ve run into yet another formidable figure. Is everyone here to capitalize on the upcoming Southern Barbarian War?”
Zhao Xing studied the list in disbelief.
While Wei Hong wasn’t particularly remarkable—he would later only rise to the rank of Upper Third, and that too as a ceremonial priest of the imperial tombs, with no real power—his younger brother, Wei Xuancheng, became a Prime Minister during the reign of Emperor Wu!
Wei Xuancheng’s most significant contribution was reforming the Yin Spirit System. He spearheaded the famous policy of “abolishing sects and destroying temples,” solving the problem of an ever-growing number of deities.
Of course, his end was equally tragic. During the reign of Emperor Yuan, Wei Xuancheng’s grave was dug up, his ancestral temple demolished, and his soul dragged from the Yin Realm, where his spirit was scourged until it dissipated entirely.
“Why is Lord Zhao looking at me?” the priest who had been sent to escort Zhao Xing asked the next day. This priest was none other than Wei Xuancheng, currently only a seventh-rank priest.
Wei Xuancheng, born into an influential family, was both arrogant towards his superiors and respectful of his subordinates. He displayed great reverence for the common people, despite his indifference to the wealthy and powerful.
Though only thirty years old, Wei Xuancheng was already a seventh-rank priest, with an older brother ranked fourth. His future seemed limitless.
Zhao Xing quickly composed himself. “Lord Wei’s appearance reminds me of an old acquaintance. I lost myself in thought for a moment—please forgive me, Lord Wei.”
In truth, he had only been distracted for a second, but priests were highly sensitive to such thoughts. Zhao Xing quickly offered a polite excuse and cleared his mind of distractions.
Wei Xuancheng didn’t mind. After all, they were roughly the same age, both young officials on the rise.
“Please, Lord Zhao.”
“After you, Lord Wei.”
Zhao Xing and Long Xiao followed Wei Xuancheng aboard the Airship, which soon brought them to the Prefectural Temple.
There, they paid respects to the official leading the mission, Lower Sixth-ranked priest Gong Ming.
Accompanied by thirty-two priests, including Wei Xuancheng, they boarded the Cloud Rain Tower Ship.
The mission would proceed as follows:
Gong Ming would take Zhao Xing to each of the 52 civilian temples.
At each location, Zhao Xing would provide his recommendation on whether the temple should remain or be destroyed.
He would remain on the Cloud Rain Tower Ship, without disembarking.
The temple officials would then carry out the actual process.
Their actions wouldn’t necessarily follow Zhao Xing’s suggestions.
If half of his suggestions were accepted, the mission would be rated “Pass” (C-grade). If 70% were accepted, it would be rated “Good” (B-grade). If 90% were accepted, the mission would be rated “Excellent” (A-grade).
“This task isn’t particularly hard. It’s just a matter of choosing between two options: keep or destroy,” Wei Xuancheng explained, sitting with Zhao Xing in a private room. He was responsible for relaying messages and explanations to Zhao Xing.
“Even if you guess randomly, as long as half your guesses align with the temple’s decisions, you’ll pass the mission.”
“Even if you don’t know anything about temple affairs, if you’re lucky and guess right 26 times, you’ll pass.”
“However, if your suggestions are insightful and Gong Ming adopts them, even if you’re wrong a few times, you can still get a higher rating. Does that make sense, Lord Zhao?”
“Yes, thank you, Lord Wei,” Zhao Xing responded with a bow.
In essence, Gong Ming, like Qiu Mingyi before him, had significant discretion in grading Zhao Xing’s performance.
After waiting for about two hours on the ship, they arrived at the first destination.
Wei Xuancheng exited the room to relay the situation and soon returned.
“The first location is the Temple of Yan Guang. Lord Gong wants to know your recommendation—what should be done with the temple?”
Zhao Xing pondered briefly. “The temple should be demolished, and the statue destroyed.”
Wei Xuancheng asked, “Do you have anything more to add before I relay the message?”
Zhao Xing nodded. “Not just this one temple—my stance on all 52 temples in Anping Prefecture is the same: they should all be dismantled.”
“There are three reasons for this.”
Wei Xuancheng gestured for him to continue. “Please, go on.”
“First, the private establishment of temples by the people of Anping Prefecture—while some of these deities might not be considered evil, and some may have even performed meritorious deeds—has been a massive drain over the past two hundred years.”
“According to the Great Zhou’s regulations for Yin Spirit worship, even the officially enshrined deities have fixed annual, monthly, seasonal, and daily rituals. Deities not officially recognized by the court require even more frequent offerings.”
“I’m no expert in temple affairs, but I am well-versed in calculations. Allow me to present the numbers for you, Lord Wei, and for the officials of the temple.”
“Take the Temple of Yan Guang as an example. For a spirit to advance over two hundred years, it must have undergone a grand ritual every ten years, with annual smaller rituals in between.”
“In years of grand rituals, daily offerings must be made—four times a day, following the Three Sacrifices protocol, which involves offerings of cattle, sheep, horses, silk, jade, and bronze vessels—totaling 160 items.”
“Even if the offerings are reused, the annual total amounts to 1,695 offerings. The remaining 51 temples may not be as grand as Yan Guang’s, but by my calculations, they collectively require 34,453 offerings.”
“During monthly rituals, guards are needed to escort the deity’s statue through the streets. Each procession requires priests, retainers, and musicians, with no fewer than 3,000 participants per event. In one year, there would be over 100,000 participants.”
“Whenever a procession takes place, the faithful among the commoners purchase incense, paper offerings, and even throw copper coins into the donation boxes. If each of the 100,000 participants spends just ten coins, that amounts to over a hundred thousand taels—and the actual sum is likely even higher. The military cannot track these expenditures.”
“And this is just for one year. We’re talking about privately established temples here, but Anping Prefecture also has officially recognized deities! If the common people believe in the gods, they will impoverish themselves to offer tribute.”
“In two hundred years, these 52 temples have drained countless generations of resources. The sums involved reach into the millions. Did the common people benefit from any of it?”
“Even if these Yin spirits occasionally perform good deeds, why rely on wild gods?”
“They’ve drained the people’s resources for their own gain and overstepped their authority. This is the first reason why these temples must be destroyed.”
Zhao Xing’s voice was firm, and Wei Xuancheng’s eyes flashed with anger as he listened.
Zhao Xing’s words struck a chord with him.
He hadn’t fully considered this before, but Zhao Xing’s cold, calculated breakdown ignited a fire in him.
Indeed, how wasteful it was!
The effects on a single generation might not be obvious, but over two hundred years, the accumulation was staggering. Zhao Xing’s words were like a dagger to the heart—where there was waste, there were beneficiaries. And who were they?
It had to be the noble families, the parasites feeding off the people.
Some of the common folk might not even realize they were being manipulated. They handed over their hard-earned money and then praised those who deceived them.
Zhao Xing, true to his role as a Shennong, had presented a financial argument as the basis for his recommendation, and it struck a powerful chord with Wei Xuancheng.
Wei Xuancheng bowed deeply. “Lord Zhao, your analysis is profound and enlightening. I am deeply grateful—please accept my respects.”
“I dare not,” Zhao Xing said, quickly returning the bow. “These are just the thoughts of a humble man. If I’ve spoken out of turn, I beg your forgiveness.”
In truth, his words were merely an echo of the policies Wei Xuancheng would later present to Emperor Wu.
Of course, the situation wasn’t yet as extreme as it would be in the future.
In later years, Wei Xuancheng would go so far as to propose reforms to the imperial tombs, advocating for the “Five Shrine System,” which limited the worship of ancestors beyond five generations, recommending that all descendants pay their respects only at the shrine of the emperor.
Zhao Xing had chosen his words carefully. Compared to the sweeping reforms Wei Xuancheng would later enact, his current argument was but a pinprick.
It was enough to pierce the hearts of Wei Xuancheng and the temple priests but not so extreme as to provoke outrage.
“Please, continue with your second and third reasons,” Wei Xuancheng said, his eyes gleaming with interest. He was eager to hear more of Zhao Xing’s unique perspective.
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