I Am Your Natural Enemy

A day later, besides being the host, Wen Yan spent the rest of his time chanting scriptures and transcending, without needing to direct anything else; the people of Fuyu Mountain were all more professional than he was.

After yet another chant ended, Wen Yan opened his eyes and looked at the Black Mountain Stone Sculpture in front of him. Wisps of smoke transformed into a long path, extending from here all the way to the sky, with a large number of Lost Souls disappearing like those on the Nether Path.

Now, he could see that the Lost Souls’ dress seemed to resemble those of recent centuries.

He saw a team of remnants dressed similarly, carrying their luggage, moving upstream.

A heap of Mountain Essence had already gathered on the ground, and besides those, small marks appeared on the Black Mountain Stone Sculpture.

Starting from the bottom of the Black Mountain Stone Sculpture, a small staircase extended upward, reaching the top of the Black Mountain Stone Sculpture.

Looking closer, on both sides of the small staircase, there were countless small paths all over the mountain’s body, with white banners marked with symbols beside them.

Chanting scriptures and transcending, purifying evil spirits, he was tireless, sitting there all day, feeling somewhat dazed as he opened his eyes.

Looking around, hundreds of people had gathered around the ceremonial square, all in daily blue Taoist robes, ranging from teenagers to people in their seventies.

These people’s gazes toward him were different from usual.

The last time he went to the great hall where disciples learned scriptures, those disciples clearly didn’t care much about him being the current Scorching Sun, and it was unclear if they knew internally.

However, there seemed to be an ingrained notion that martial artists were naturally a notch lower than Taoists, though friendly, not necessarily in other aspects.

But now, Wen Yan could clearly sense respect in their gazes that had nothing to do with him being the current Scorching Sun.

Fourth Great-uncle Master walked over and softly spoke.

”Rest for a while; it’s been a day.”

”Hmm?” Wen Yan looked at the sky, similar to yesterday, thinking not much time had passed.

”For the past hundred years in Fuyu Mountain, only you could chant scriptures and perform ceremonies nonstop for 24 hours without resting, tireless and error-free.

Take a break; there’s no rush.

Some things should go slowly; don’t be too impatient.”

Ceremonies shouldn’t be completed in one go; they fluctuate during the process, with time set for resting.

Especially those three-day ceremonies, seven-day ceremonies, even the half-month Luo Tian Grand Ceremony, rest is necessary.

Fourth Great-uncle Master had wanted to advise Wen Yan, but seeing Wen Yan in meditation, he dared not disturb, letting the ceremony continue while cycling through exhausted groups.

There were so many people here that Wen Yan alone was totally spent.

Once a ceremony commences, those stationed at the Dharma Altar must continue, preventing any auxiliary pauses.

Wen Yan stood, bowed hand in hand to those around him.

”Apologies, everyone; I was in meditation, lost track of time. Thank you all for your help.”

He bowed once in each of three directions.

The crowd stood and returned the gesture.

Despite everything, Wen Yan showed due courtesy, neither arrogant nor domineering, very polite, leaving nothing unwarranted.

As a Taoist, it’s a regular duty, though some young Taoists might never experience it in a lifetime.

In the future, it adds to the resume, having participated in a major transcendent ceremony.

Wen Yan stepped forward and inspected the Black Mountain Stone Sculpture, once ominously black, now clear and richly sedimented, minus the eerie, recently exhumed from the Netherworld look.

At this point, it was virtually completed, yet Wen Yan didn’t understand why he hadn’t received a title.

He reached outward, touching the Black Mountain Stone Sculpture, suddenly feeling the sculpture enlarge and encompass his awareness.

In an instant, Wen Yan stood at the foot of a giant mountain, beside an uninscribed tablet, facing a staircase leading up the mountain.

Every section of the stairs branched into two paths, without graves, only wooden posts draped with white banners serving as tombstones on the mountain.

Most bore no inscriptions, only a symbol-like marking.

Wen Yan stepped forward, saluted a white banner, then touched the symbol.

In the next moment, the symbol magnified before his eyes, transporting him to a rural courtyard where a burly man taught several children the horse stance, guiding them on exertion techniques to avoid injury.

Wen Yan watched attentively, the man’s speech simplistically direct, summarizing muscle rather than knee usage to prevent prolonged stress injuries.

Undoubtedly unaware of meniscus knowledge, this hands-on instruction surpassed book comprehension.

In detail, probably more than texts, hands-on teaching captured the feeling best.

Wen Yan observed for a brief two minutes, then stepped back onto the path.

He further examined two wooden tablets with white banners; one taught large intestine processing, the other trap setting.