Stop it, Taoist, Your Fight almost Ruins the DAO!

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Qingli, year eight, autumn.

Fengyun County, Treasure Street.

The street was bustling with people coming and going, their voices loud and excited, while carts and horses clattered past.

At this moment, a group of people surrounded a stall on Treasure Street, marveling and bantering for a bit before turning and walking away.

Sitting cross-legged by the street was a young Daoist, tall and lean, with eyebrows like swords and eyes like stars, his robust chest pushing against his Daoist robe.

By his side lay an iron cage and a wooden board.

Inside the cage, a rooster pecked at millet in a celadon bowl.

A sign beside him written in brush script read, "For sale: Tyrant Chicken, one hundred taels, non-negotiable."

Among the onlooking crowd, someone called out teasingly, "Daoist, why don't you let that Tyrant Chicken show us some tricks?"

To these curious onlookers, Yi Chen replied not with words but by pulling out another wooden board engraved with the phrase: "Sold to the destined, willing buyer approach."

The crowd continued to pass by in droves, many observers but not a single buyer.

Just then, Wang, the owner of an antique shop who was among the crowd of spectators, narrowed his eyes, his attention caught not by the rooster eating, but by the small celadon bowl it was using; he pushed through the crowd and said, "Daoist, indeed the Tyrant Chicken is extraordinary; I will buy it."

After the exchange of money and goods, Yi Chen handed over the four-jin rooster to the plump Wang, smiled, and performed a salute, saying, "May boundless fortune bless you, esteemed Wang. With this Tyrant Chicken, your household shall be free of worries."

"Haha, thank you for your auspicious words, Daoist. How about you give me that celadon bowl as well?"

"I intend to keep this Tyrant Chicken as a pet."

"I'm afraid the chicken I've bought won't be accustomed to pecking millet from another bowl!" Wang said, reaching out to take the celadon bowl, but he was a step slower than the young Daoist who quickly pocketed it.

"You jest, esteemed Wang, how could that be?"

"I'm selling the Tyrant Chicken, not the bowl."

"Thanks to this antique celadon bowl, I've sold many a Tyrant Chicken around here. You didn't know that, did you? Today, it happens to be fated for you, esteemed Wang."

"By the way, esteemed Wang, steamed or stir-fried, either way, this chicken greatly replenishes one's vitality."

"No need to thank me."

"Esteemed Wang, please excuse me, I must be off," Yi Chen said.

After finishing, Yi Chen rose leisurely to his feet, bowed to the watching crowd, gathered the two green bricks he had been sitting on, stacked them neatly, and with a single punch reduced them to pieces.

Carrying the iron cage and holding the celadon bowl, he disappeared down the street with a few leaps and jumps.

The dazed onlookers came to their senses only after a good while and burst into laughter.

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Half an hour later, Yi Chen, who had spent one hundred taels on good medicines and half a piece of ginseng, exited the gates of Fengyun County.

He was not originally from this world; ten years ago, he had transmigrated into the body of an eight-year-old orphan boy in the middle of a snowy winter, nearly freezing to death.

As he felt life slipping away, convinced he was about to see his great-grandmother, he was saved by Bai Yunzi, the master of Hidden Dragon Temple, who took him in as a disciple.

Ten years had passed and, some time ago, his master Bai Yunzi contracted a Yin Qi while exorcising a fierce ghost for villagers and had since been bedridden.

Out of necessity, Yi Chen had to venture out to obtain money to buy medicine.

There was no help for it; his master was a truly good man. Most of the Temple's savings had gone to his master distributing porridge and medicine generously, leaving them on the brink of not having enough food, let alone buying medicine.

Glancing up at the sun overhead, Yi Chen became slightly anxious and silently spurred the weak Pure Yang Inner Qi within him, quickening his pace.

Indeed, the world into which Yi Chen had transmigrated was not an ordinary ancient setting.

It was a terrifying world where demons roamed and evil spirits appeared.

In this fearsome world, being able to become a disciple of a master skilled in the Pure Yang Daoist arts, Daoist Bai Yunzi of Hidden Dragon Temple, Yi Chen felt extremely fortunate.

Of course, the only downside was that after ten years since his transmigration, his Golden Finger had yet to arrive, which was quite regrettable.

Without a Golden Finger, how could one thrive in a transmigration?

He had practiced the Minor Pure Yang Skill for ten years, toiling without end, barely reaching the second level, with Inner Qi so meager he had to conserve it even when traveling.

Lost in his thoughts, Hidden Dragon Temple came into view on the horizon.

Worried about his master's condition, Yi Chen couldn't help but hasten his steps.

Hidden Dragon Temple lay at the foot of Falling Dragon Mountain, a small Daoist temple built brick by brick by his master with the help of some pious benefactors, consisting of no more than five rooms.

There were two trees in the front courtyard.

One was a jujube tree, and the other was also a jujube tree.

Upon entering, he saw his cross-eyed junior, Qing Yunzi, running out with a mournful expression, "Big brother, you're finally back. Master… Master… he's not going to make it."

Yi Chen's heart skipped a beat, "What? Wasn't master holding on earlier? How has it suddenly gotten so bad?"

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His eyes reddened as he hurried toward the back courtyard.

In the courtyard, a tall but gaunt elderly man lay on a bed, barely clinging to life.

Qing Feng and Ming Yue, two young Daoist boys, stood by the bed, stealthily wiping away their tears.

Everyone from Hidden Dragon Temple had gathered.

"Master! How did your injury suddenly worsen like this?" Yi Chen said, tears spinning in his eyes at the sight.

In a fluster, he tried to stuff half a ginseng into his master's mouth.

The tears in Yi Chen's eyes were sincere, for he was the first orphan his master had taken in. For the past ten years, the master had treated him with no less affection than a father would show his own child.

In the days when common people subsisted on husks and vegetables, Yi Chen always had meat to eat and was personally taught the Minor Pure Yang Skill.

Unfortunately, his aptitude was lacking, and his cultivation in inner skills had been overtaken by his junior brother, Qing Yunzi.

"You mischievous student, you... are you trying to choke me to death?" choked the tall elder on the bed as Yi Chen shoved the ginseng in, reviving some vitality as if regaining light and returning from the brink.

"Naughty student, where did this ginseng come from? Where did you get the silver for it?" questioned Bai Yunzi, his brows furrowing in a grave tone.

"I sold an overlord chicken and bought it from the herb shop," replied Yi Chen obediently.

"Your broken rooster sold for that much money?"

"The boss knows the goods, 'only sells to those with fate,'" explained Yi Chen, still with an obedient look.

"Enough, as long as you did not resort to nefarious means, let it be," the white-haired Daoist on the bed sighed deeply, nibbled a few bites of ginseng, and his complexion improved slightly.

"Yi Chen, your master is of great age, and now I've accidentally let Yin Qi invade my body. The end is near for me today. I have a few words to tell you, and you must promise me," said the white-haired Daoist, half-sitting in bed, gazing earnestly at Yi Chen.

"Master, please speak."

"There are strange changes in the heavens and earth nowadays, and evil spirits are increasingly rampant—chaos is not far away."

"I... after my death, you will be the new head of Hidden Dragon Temple."

"Your junior brothers, their minds are not as sharp as yours. After I'm gone, you must take extra care, bear... bear the responsibility of an eldest brother."

"You are shrewd and firm-handed, as I've always known. Without me, no one will be there to keep you in check. You must promise me, do good deeds, seek no reward, and... absolutely do not commit crimes. Win people over with virtue and follow the path of benevolence and righteousness."

Hearing these words, Yi Chen nodded vigorously, "Master, rest assured. I will take good care of my junior brothers, win people over with virtue, and follow the path of benevolence and righteousness."

"Good!"

The white-haired Daoist on the bed, seeing this, also revealed a relieved smile and then spoke with difficulty:

"In... in my final moments, I only have two wishes."

"One... is to magnify the reputation of Hidden Dragon Temple so that the common people no longer suffer from... from demons and ghosts."

"The... the second wish is in the legacy I've left for you. After my death, you... look at it yourself."

"I do not insist on these two things. If you can do them, do them. If not, prioritize preserving your lives. When necessary, you can abandon this temple and live as ordinary people."

"It's just... a pity that none of the four of you disciples have awakened the 'spirit,' capable of cultivating my Pure Yang true power to slay demons and banish evil spirits!"

After mustering the strength to utter that last part, the white-haired Daoist's head tilted, and his eyes closed.

"Master, why... why did you leave so soon~" Yi Chen, seeing this scene, could not help crying out, tightly embracing his master's body. The four brothers sobbed together in a heap.

"Cough... cough cough"

"Rebel... You're hugging so tightly. Do you want to be unfilial and betray your lineage? I'm just resting a while."

"What... you're wailing now? There will be plenty of time for that later."

The white-haired Daoist in Yi Chen's embrace opened his eyes again. His face suddenly became rosy, and he sat up straight. A red aura began to seep from his orifices, eventually dissipating into the air.

Yi Chen knew that this time, his master truly had reached his end, unable even to hold back the Pure Yang mana he had cultivated so rigorously within his body. Tears as large as beans spilled from his eyes.

The white-haired Daoist smiled and caressed Yi Chen's cheek, then went on to gently touch the faces of Qing Yunzi, Qing Feng, and Ming Yue, speaking kindly to all, "Foolish children, who doesn't die in this world?"

"There is no banquet under heaven that does not come to an end."

"After my death, cremate my body and let it be. No need for elaborate arrangements. I, Bai Yunzi, have come into this world with clear conscience and shall depart it the same way, living a life without regret under heaven."

"Qing Feng, Ming Yue, Qing Yunzi, remember... listen to your eldest brother."

"It's a pity... none of you... none of you have awakened the 'spirit.'"

"Otherwise, you could certainly maintain peace in the region and truly inherit my teachings. "

"Remember... always do good deeds and seek no return. "

"The spirit... the spirit..."

At that moment, a withered leaf quietly fell from a jujube tree in the front courtyard.

The white-haired Daoist touched Yi Chen's cheek once more, then sat upright on the bed, and passed away with a smile on his face.

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