Chapter 453: Scattered Wealth and an Unexpected Encounter

By the time they stepped out of the shop, the sky had already darkened, and the streets had grown much quieter.

The Daoist strolled at a leisurely pace, while the cat continued to trot beside him in small, quick steps. Yet, all the while, she kept her head turned, staring at him.

Finally, when they found a moment where no one else was around, she spoke up in a soft, delicate voice, “Young Daoist priest, what is a God of Wealth?”

“Are you starting to call me that again?”

“Mmph!” The calico cat paused for a split second, her little feet still moving, then quickly corrected herself, “Daoist priest! What is a God of Wealth?”

“A god who is believed to govern fortune and prosperity.”

“If you worship him, can you really become rich?”

“People believe so. And the God of Wealth himself promotes that belief.”

“If you worship him, can you really become rich?”

“I don’t know for certain,” the Daoist lowered his voice, matching the cat’s whispering tone. “But I have never seen anyone get rich solely because they worshipped the God of Wealth. Even if they themselves believed it.”

“So you can’t get rich...?” The calico cat’s interest waned immediately.

A cool night breeze swept past.

On both sides of the river, the brothels and wine shops had lit their red lanterns, casting their glow upon the water. The stone bridge they stood on, however, remained peacefully quiet.

Suddenly, the cat picked up her pace, darting ahead before coming to a stop at the edge of the bridge.

Through the intricate carvings of the stone railing, she turned her head, gazing toward the lively establishments along the riverbank. Her ears twitched, faintly catching the sound of a

guqin

playing from within one of the lavishly decorated buildings.

Behind the paper-covered windows, candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows of women moving gracefully within.

She had no idea that this was a brothel, nor did she fully understand what went on inside.

But something about Yangzhou, the sound of a

guqin

, the sight of elegant buildings, and the silhouettes of unknown, enchanting women gave her an uncanny feeling—

A sense that, if she and the Daoist were to cross this bridge, they might just run into a fox at the next turn beneath the glow of a hanging lantern.

Unfortunately, the

guqin

melody here was far inferior to the enchanting music of Hexian Pavilion in Changjing—even less so than the haunting tunes of Ghost City in Mount Ye, or the performances she had heard along the journey from Changjing to Fengzhou. These beautiful buildings were also nowhere near as elegant as Hexian Pavilion.

As for whether the women inside were more beautiful than a fox demon in human form, the calico cat truly couldn’t tell. But one thing was certain—there would be no foxes here tonight.

Just then, familiar footsteps approached from behind.

As soon as the Daoist passed her, she immediately pulled her gaze away, falling back into step beside him, her small paws pattering lightly on the stone path.

“Daoist priest! The food here is so expensive!”

“It is.”

“And it’s not even good!”

“It isn’t.”

“Not as good as what I can cook!”

“That’s true.”

“There’s a river here!” The calico suddenly perked up. “Today, I saw people fishing by the river. Tomorrow, I will take a fishing rod and catch some fish too—then cook for you!”

“Mmm.”

“

Meow

?”

“That sounds great.”

And so, one person and one cat made their way back to the inn.

“

Splash

...”

Song You washed up in silence, wringing water from a cloth and letting it fall back into the wooden basin. The gentle splash echoed in the stillness of the room, making the quiet night feel even more tranquil.

The young girl lay sprawled over the table, her head resting on her arms.

Before her, an oil-less lamp burned brightly on its own, casting a soft glow. To her left, a plain, unremarkable lantern sat on the table, while to her right, her little horse lantern gleamed, illuminating the entire surface. In some way, this created a protective barrier, shielding her travel journal from prying eyes, giving her a sense of security and allowing her to focus entirely on her writing.

Of course, this was completely unnecessary. The Daoist hadn’t so much as glanced at her manuscript. He simply went about washing up, finished, and then lay down to sleep.

Meanwhile, the calico cat continued writing late into the night, her lamplight flickering gently over the table.

The soft glow, her occasional murmuring, the whisper of pages turning—all of it carried an odd sense of tranquility, making the entire room peaceful.

With such peace, Song You no longer felt the urgency to seek out Jile God. He simply wanted to rest for a few days.

Closing his eyes, he drifted into sleep—dreamless through the night. It was the calico cat who dreamed instead.

After finishing her writing in the middle of the night, sneaking out for a late-night snack, and washing her paws before climbing into bed, she found herself in a dream—

Perhaps because her travel notes had brought back memories of the coast, or maybe because of tonight’s meal, she dreamt of the seaside once again.

She was back at the beaches of Lan'an, in Langzhou. In her dream, she carried a pouch and walked along the shoreline, constantly picking up fish and shrimp.

Every few steps, there was a fish; every few steps, there was a shrimp. The fish were all small, and so were the shrimp. Aside from fish and shrimp, there was nothing else.

The dream felt real—even the shrimp were pinching her. She simply couldn’t pick them up fast enough.

***

Over the next few days, Song You wandered around Yangdu daily. Sometimes, he brought the calico cat along. Other times, he went alone, taking in the city's bustling splendor.

As the waiter had said, Jile God' temple had indeed been torn down, and the government had officially banned his worship. Yet, despite the ban, many people in Yangdu still worshipped him in secret.

Most had shrines or deity plaques in their own homes—some hoping for his blessings of wealth, others simply afraid that if they didn’t pay respects, he might steal their money instead.

It was, in a way, a perfect reflection of the greater Divine Dao system in Great Yan.

Originally, people worshipped deities out of admiration for their virtues and gratitude for their blessings. But over time, worship became less about reverence—and more about desire or fear. They burned incense in hopes of receiving protection, or because they were afraid of offending the gods.

For deities, incense offerings were often gained through one of these two means. Of course, the second path was not the righteous one.

Jile God had clearly not been fully eradicated, nor had the ban on his worship been completely effective. Yet, he must have had a special means of concealment, allowing him to temporarily evade the State Preceptor’s purge.

Because of the government’s strict prohibition, most of Yangdu’s people now worshipped his idols and plaques in secret. Even business owners dared not place his statues openly in their shops.

Song You did not make an active effort to investigate. Most of the time, he simply wandered through the city, taking in Yangdu’s grandeur and scouting for a suitable place to rent a house. As a result, he hadn’t uncovered much, but he had heard many stories.

There was the tale of Princess Changping, who once visited Yangzhou, captured a rabbit that had gained sentience during a royal hunt, and healed it before setting it free. There were stories of the Dragon King across the seas, who had been stirring storms for the past two years.

They were stories he himself had lived through. Stories he had seen with his own eyes and heard with his own ears.

And now, listening to the people’s version of these tales, hearing how they differed from reality, he found a subtle amusement in observing how legends evolved.

And then, he heard tales of himself. Some came from the northern borders. Others, from the southern seas.

But Yangdu was far removed from the northern border—in both distance and perspective. By the time those borderland stories reached this far south, the gaps between truth and legend had grown even wider.

The people living here and those in the nearly devastated northern provinces seemed to exist in two entirely different worlds. No matter how vividly storytellers described it, they simply couldn’t fathom the sight of thousands of li of corpses or great demons devouring entire cities.

The tales of the sea, however, were passed down more accurately.

Though one had to wonder—

When these same ocean legends reach the northern border, what kind of stories would they become?

Different regions and different cultures truly gave birth to entirely different stories.

“...”

Song You smiled as he stepped out of the teahouse, staff in hand, making his way home. But he had barely taken two steps when he suddenly sensed something amiss.

He stopped in his tracks, turning his gaze into the distance.

“Huh?”

A faint flicker of divine light and spiritual radiance flashed from that direction.

Song You furrowed his brow, resuming his pace. His staff tapped against the stone pavement, echoing softly—

thud, thud.

Then, suddenly, a commotion erupted.

“The money is flying out!”

“Jile God has appeared!”

“Hurry, pick it up!”

“You people aren’t allowed to take it! Only those who worship Jile God can pick up the money! If you steal it, he’ll be angry at you!”

Song You kept walking forward, turning a corner. And immediately, the chaotic scene unfolded before his eyes.

A well-built townhouse stood before him, its doors and windows flung wide open. Even the upper-story windows had been pushed open to welcome the night breeze. From inside, copper coins and small silver ingots continuously poured out, flying in waves, scattering across the streets with clear, metallic

clinks

.

The ground was already swarming with people, frantically grabbing at the coins, their faces alight with excitement. Shouts filled the air as they scrambled and fought, their eager gathering turning into open brawls—what had started as picking up had turned into snatching.

Some people were also picking them up, or at least had intended to. However, realizing that they had not recently made offerings to the Bliss God, they hesitated upon hearing others speak—whether those words were meant to promote the Bliss God or simply to deter competitors was unclear. For a moment, they found themselves restrained, unsure of what to do.

Some people stood at a distance, sighing heavily. From within the building, the muffled sounds of crying and desperate pleas for mercy echoed faintly.

“

Clink

...”

A copper coin suddenly dropped near Song You, rolling across the ground in circles before eventually bumping into his staff and coming to a halt. With a soft

plop

, it fell flat, revealing four characters, “

Mingde Tongbao

.”

At almost the same instant, the silver and copper rain from the townhouse ceased.

Song You lowered his gaze, staring at the coin. But before he could examine it properly, a filthy hand darted in, snatching it away like lightning.

Song You followed the movement and saw a young beggar, dressed in ragged clothes, clutching the coin tightly in his grimy fingers.

The boy’s sharp, wary eyes locked onto him, filled with fear and vigilance, as if bracing for a scolding. “First come, first serve!”

Song You didn’t understand his exact words, but he could guess the meaning well enough. He simply said nothing—just offered a slight smile before looking up toward the townhouse again.

No more coins or silver were flying out. All that remained were dozens of people—some staring expectantly at the sky, others bent over, searching for leftover coins hidden in the cracks between bricks.

Jile God was nowhere to be seen. Either he had come in person, cast his spell, and fled immediately, leaving the money to scatter as part of his sorcery—

Or he had never been here at all, instead channeling his magic remotely through his divine statues or spirit plaques.

After all, when Song You arrived, he had seen flashes of divine light, but no actual figure.

“Cautious, aren’t you...” Song You resumed walking, weaving through the crowd.

The closer he got to the townhouse, the clearer the sounds of weeping and begging became.

Outside, some people still sighed. But the majority weren’t concerned with what was happening to the household inside. They only stood there, waiting eagerly, hoping for another wave of silver to fly out, so they could grab more for themselves.

Just then, a loud voice suddenly called out to him, “Mr. Song!”

It was a rough, thunderous voice, deep and commanding.

“Hm?” Song You turned his head.

What he saw was a towering man, standing amidst the crowd—his fierce, almost demonic features resembling that of a yaksha. The man was taller than those around him, his expression a mix of delight and astonishment as he looked at Song You.

“Mr. Song! It really is you!”

With just two or three powerful strides, the man approached. Among the common folk, he stood out like a giant, like an iron fortress.

As he moved, he didn't need to shove or speak. The moment people heard his voice and felt the light around them darken, an immense psychological pressure took hold, and they simply stepped aside on their own.

It was none other than Ye Xinrong, a descendant of the Yaksha clan.