You are late.

By now it was already afternoon, yet the city of Xuzhou remained a cacophony of voices. The city bordered the Ten-Thousand Mountains and was home to millions. Where there are many people, evil spirits gather easily. So too do gods.

Threads of human breath drifted skyward, dyeing the heavens above Xuzhou gray. Indistinct figures stood high above, absorbing the essence of humanity with every inhalation. Ever since the great change in the heavens, the path of cultivation had been severed. Even the gods were not exempt. Human essence was now the sole resource for both cultivators and gods.

Cultivators called it spiritual energy. To the gods, it was incense and devotion. Over time, these names became conventions. Only mortals remained ignorant of it.

Within the Song residence, Song Tiangang, governor of Xuzhou, was attending to affairs, with his loyal servant waiting nearby. The servant had followed him for many years. Every member of the Song family, upon birth, would select a loyal servant—though called a servant, the bond was akin to that of siblings. Even when attending to private matters, the servant would wait outside.

"Master, the court has sent someone to press for taxes again, and they've named you specifically."

"Oh? Who is it?"

"It's Grand Tutor Wang. He brings an imperial decree, demanding the taxes be gathered before the autumn harvest and delivered to the treasury before the sowing."

"Wang Taiyu, I see..."

"He is of my generation; we once studied together," Song Tiangang remarked mildly as he signed documents. "But he knows nothing of propriety. My Song family has served two dynasties, nine lords in ten generations. He, a mere son of humble birth, climbed to Grand Tutor by serving the emperor like a dog. It is he who should come to see me. Tell him to choose an auspicious day, prepare lavish gifts, and come in person—otherwise, let him return from whence he came."

"As for the taxes..." Song Tiangang's patience wore thin at the mention. Previously, he'd been diligent in the matter. During the fourth year of Celebrated Reign, he returned to the capital for duty and saw a god in the palace—a deity the emperor had summoned at great cost, said to hold the secret of immortality. The price was ever-increasing taxes. The entire Da Kang dynasty was suffering.

Taxes included grain, gold, and silver, but the most crucial was human essence. Song Tiangang, being a scion of noble lineage, believed in acting with justification. He planned to send men into the Ten-Thousand Mountains with a geomantic compass to find sources of corruption, then stage a false attack on Xuzhou by evil spirits.

The ensuing panic would raise taxes, allowing him to extract more human essence. Human essence could not be collected by cultivators or gods directly; only mortals, through worship, money, or daily life, generated it. Gods could intensify mortal devotion through religious means. The court, made up of cultivators, sold talismans and collected essence similarly.

Yet, one could not harvest too much. Excess would shorten lives. People were the foundation. Both cultivators and gods showed leniency to mortals—slaying evil, offering protection, and so on.

Taxes mattered, but there was something yet more important—a figure identical to that god harboring the secret of immortality: the mutated idol.

"The secret of immortality..." Song Tiangang mused silently. "If I possess you, what is the emperor of Da Kang? If I can become immortal, who would want to be merely a god?"

Perhaps because cultivation now relied on human essence, the path stopped at Nascent Soul, forcing practitioners to seek divinity instead. Ancient methods using human essence no longer worked. Any cultivator who tried would soon grow something strange—something that devoured their cultivation and soul. Once it appeared, Nascent Soul masters lasted only a day; Golden Core and Foundation Establishment cultivators could not endure even half a day, soon turning into evil spirits.

Thus, ancient techniques were banned long ago.

Every year, checks and bans were enforced. Yet every noble family secretly passed on a technique or two. In desperate times, one could forcefully practice the old method, instantly becoming an evil spirit—a last resort.

The servant, seeing Song Tiangang worried, thought it was about taxes. He comforted, "The twelfth lady has already led people into the Ten-Thousand Mountains. They should soon find the source of corruption, then you won't need to worry so."

"Source of corruption?" Song Tiangang replied with a peculiar tone. "I cannot help but worry..."

Finding the mutated idol was crucial. He hadn't told the twelfth lady the truth, only given her a geomantic compass capable of locating another compass. He believed the idol would not spare Lin Ye and those with him, and would devour them all.

The compass was blessed by the gods and would not be digested for several days. Finding the compass meant finding the idol. When the time came, he would personally seize it.

"The twelfth lady entered the mountains yesterday?"

"She went at dawn, bringing horses that can travel a thousand miles a day, so they can move easily even at night."

"Then she must be dead."

"Dead?" The servant was baffled.

"Why the shock?" Song Tiangang said coldly. "Eight hundred years of Nascent Soul—gods seem immortal, but without incense, they are but dust. Only immortals are truly eternal."

"But she is the twelfth lady..."

"If the twelfth lady is dead, there is still the first, second, thirteenth, and twenty-eighth lady."

The servant understood, and said no more.

Song Tiangang put aside his brush and said, "Xuzhou is too small for so many people. Take some and relocate them."

"Where to?"

"Into the Ten-Thousand Mountains."

The mountains swarmed with evil. None would go there unless desperate. Lin Ye and his companions were sent merely to find the corruption, but they encountered the mutated idol, prompting the twelfth lady to enter once more.

Now, the twelfth lady had met the same fate. Sending in more would likely yield nothing.

He needed a foothold.

"Take eighty—no, a hundred gods, and build temples wherever you find suitable ground."

Song Tiangang paced, pondering. "Also, this cannot remain hidden. Fine, I'll go meet Grand Tutor Wang."

With that, Song Tiangang vanished from sight.

A quarter hour later, every cultivator in the city saw Song Tiangang fly from Grand Tutor Wang's residence, his face dark as thunder.

"Lord Song, did you see the Grand Tutor?"

"Silence! Worthless cultivator, mind your own business!" Song Tiangang rebuked, and vanished in a flash.

Before long, every noble and dignitary in Xuzhou knew Song Tiangang had suffered at Grand Tutor Wang's hands over taxes.

Returning home, Song Tiangang told his servant, "Now you may do as I've asked."

"Yes, master."

"Wait..." Song Tiangang beckoned. "There are too few people in Xuzhou. Tell the gods to urge the mortals to bear more children."

"Yes, master."

Xuzhou was crowded, so some must be moved out. Yet Xuzhou was sparse, so more must be born. Whether too many or too few, Song Tiangang decided with a thought.

...

Elsewhere.

Within the Pure Immortal Temple.

Old Lady Tang felt as though she had died, her neck broken. After an indeterminate time, she slowly opened her eyes.

"Huangpi, she's awake! She's awake!" The elder in purple robes shouted excitedly.

Chen Huangpi gestured for silence. "Master, don't frighten Old Lady Tang. Let me handle this."

"Old Lady Tang, how do you feel?"

"Ah!" She screamed, "Don't eat me! Don't eat me!"

Her mind was clouded; she could not distinguish her surroundings.

Chen Huangpi glared at the elder. "Master, Old Lady Tang is a good person, and you've scared her to madness."

He ignored his sulking master and spoke gently to Old Lady Tang, "Don't be afraid. I'm Chen Huangpi. I won't let my master eat you. You're old and frail; the medical texts say your body is full of toxins—not good for health."

"Chen Huangpi..." Old Lady Tang gasped, terror-stricken. "What are you?"

This Daoist was so bizarre, even gods could be eaten alive. He'd devoured most of the Yellow Plague, only to complain of its earthy taste. Chen Huangpi was his disciple; how different could he be?

Looking at Chen Huangpi's youthful, pale-yellow face, Old Lady Tang felt chills and nearly fainted again.

Chen Huangpi hurried to explain, "Old Lady Tang, I'm not a thing—I'm Chen Huangpi. My master only eats people because he ruined his mind with cultivation, but our temple rarely sees living visitors, so he doesn't eat much. You needn't worry."

It was the truth. In all his years, Chen Huangpi had seen only two visitors: yesterday, Lin Ye and his fellow cultivators; today, Old Lady Tang, found by his master.

Old Lady Tang regained some clarity. She wanted to accuse Chen Huangpi of lying. His master had bitten and killed a scallion before her eyes—a scallion that spoke, a scallion-man, also a type of evil spirit.

The scallion-man grew from corpses used as fertilizer. Encountered, it would eat people. Certain areas of the Ten-Thousand Mountains harbored these beings, often atop entire villages' remains.

Yet scallion-men could not move, appearing only as unusually tall plants. They waited for the unwary or for someone to feed them corpses.

That Pure Immortal Temple had a scallion-man meant corpses were regularly fed.

Crunch, crunch.

The elder in purple robes began gnawing on scallions.

Old Lady Tang could bear it no longer. "Chen Huangpi, this scallion..."

"It's my master's," Chen Huangpi replied. "He grows them well—they're sweet and aromatic. Would you like some?"

He broke off a piece and offered it.

Old Lady Tang shook her head repeatedly.

"Alright." Chen Huangpi sighed, taking a bite himself. "I'll eat it then."

"By the way, granny, why did you come to the Pure Immortal Temple? Did you come to thank me for helping those villagers?"

"I..." Old Lady Tang's throat was dry, her words strained. "I'm here to find our mountain god. Is it still here with..."

The words stuck in her belly; she could not utter them.

Chen Huangpi suddenly understood. "You came for the Fox Mountain God? You're too late—it's dead, I think."

He finished the scallion and moved aside.

Thus, Old Lady Tang saw upon the stove a palm-sized fox figurine, covered in cracks, a hole pierced in its body. It looked like a dead fox.

"Lord Mountain God, you..."