The Way of Incense and Fire Deities

【Side Quest Activated】

【Objective: Locate the Lost Fragments of Authority】

【Divine artifacts lie scattered, the land barren and desolate】

【Hint: The wishes of the masses—how could they become another’s weapon?】

【Reward: A weapon exclusive to the host】

Chu Xingchen paused mid-step, his gaze turning toward a pale-yellow seal as he asked,

“What is this?”

Chen Mouguang didn’t answer immediately, instead glancing at Zhao Yang beside him.

Zhao Yang, understanding the cue, tactfully retreated a few steps.

With a casual wave, Chen Mouguang erected a soundproof barrier. Bai Xuanling’s reputation was beyond doubt, and anyone sent by Bai Xuanling hardly needed further scrutiny.

Thus, Chen Mouguang was inclined to trust Chu Xingchen.

More importantly, time was running perilously short. If they let this opportunity slip—especially with a powerhouse like Chu Xingchen—Chen Mouguang knew the mission would be doomed.

It was clear the Tianyan Sect’s higher-ups didn’t consider this matter critical. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have dispatched an inner disciple like him. After all, many of the peak masters’ personal disciples had already reached the Nascent Soul realm.

Or perhaps the Tianyan Sect deemed it unwise to risk conflict with the Taidao Sect over this.

Regardless, Chen Mouguang had realized one thing: while the Path of Divine Worship might not be strong enough to shake the foundations of the Eighteen Immortal Sects, it undoubtedly held the power to reshape the world’s balance.

With a grave expression, Chen Mouguang explained, “This is what forms when the Path of Divine Worship coalesces. It allows mortals with no foundation to rapidly ascend in cultivation.”

“Aside from me, three others are investigating this matter.”

“We haven’t yet deciphered how to absorb or utilize it, nor its ritual mechanics. But we’ve witnessed firsthand how mortals who absorbed this seal gained cultivation equivalent to at least the eighth layer of Qi Refining.”

Worried the expert before him might dismiss Qi Refining as trivial, Chen Mouguang hastily added,

“Senior, don’t underestimate the eighth layer of Qi Refining. Countless souls never even step onto this path.”

“A hundred Qi Refining cultivators may seem insignificant, but what of a million?”

“We don’t know the cost, nor the upper limits of the Path of Divine Worship. The eighth layer might just be the surface—who’s to say it doesn’t reach Core Formation, or even Nascent Soul?”

“A mortal, starting from nothing, could breach realms most could only dream of, all with a single seal.”

“Senior, I clawed my way up from the bottom. I know what this means.”

Chu Xingchen had once been a struggling Foundation Establishment cultivator himself. Even without the system’s prompt, he understood the gravity of the situation.

“How far has this spread? What should I do now?” he asked.

Seeing Chu Xingchen’s willingness, Chen Mouguang exhaled in relief and quickly replied,

“Time is of the essence. We’ve located an experimental site for the Path of Divine Worship at the Mist Mystic Temple. For now, it’s still in testing—they only have basic facilities, each guarded by at least two Nascent Soul cultivators.”

“The Mist Mystic Temple isn’t a top-tier sect, but they’ve received backing from the Taidao Sect. We can’t trust anyone from the other Eighteen Immortal Sects.”

“At the very least, we need to uncover the core truth. That means raiding one of these sites.”

“Even if it alerts them and delays their progress, it’s better than walking away empty-handed. Yes, it might force the Taidao Sect to intervene sooner, but we have no choice.”

Chu Xingchen didn’t commit immediately. “Let’s scout first,” he said lightly.

Chen Mouguang didn’t press further. Even reconnaissance was progress. “Then, Senior, will you return with us? The other three Tianyan Sect members are waiting.”

Chu Xingchen declined. “No. I need to prepare. Give me a time and place—I’ll meet you there.”

Without hesitation, Chen Mouguang clasped his hands and answered,

“The third quarter of the Hai hour, at Yongping Funeral Parlor in the west of Towering City.”

Chu Xingchen raised an eyebrow. “You picked a rather… ominous spot.”

“Practicality over aesthetics,” Chen Mouguang replied with an awkward chuckle before bowing and taking his leave.

Chen Baiqing watched him go, then turned to Chu Xingchen. “If this is as serious as he claims, and he’s surely reported it to the Tianyan Sect, why aren’t they taking it seriously? Why wait for Master’s involvement? Could this be a trap?”

Chu Xingchen chuckled. “What if the Tianyan Sect simply doesn’t care?”

Chen Baiqing frowned. The man had spoken of world-altering power—how could the Tianyan Sect ignore it?

Reading her confusion, Chu Xingchen explained,

“You’ve seen the spiritual veins the Tianyan Sect hoards. You’ve felt their overwhelming reserves of spiritual energy. You know the depth of their true strength.”

“To the Eighteen Immortal Sects, the Path of Divine Worship is just a deeper exploitation of wish-force—still borrowing power from external sources, nothing more.”

"If it's not one's own cultivation, then there must be flaws. Moreover, such a thing undoubtedly has its limits."

"Even if the Path of Divine Favor can grant someone the power of a Deity Transformation cultivator out of thin air, it surely can't be mass-produced. Nor can it be accessible to everyone—its conditions are likely even stricter than those for regular cultivators."

"Right now, this is Taidao Sect's territory. We also have intelligence confirming that Taidao Sect is aware of this matter. So, would Taidao Sect truly remain ignorant of the specifics?"

"Taidao Sect has probably sniffed out every last secret of the Path of Divine Favor."

"If even Taidao Sect refuses to pave the way for it, can it really be anything good? Why would Tianyan Sect risk its reputation and sour relations with Taidao Sect over something like this?"

"Secondly, even if it were all true, what would it mean for Tianyan Sect? At most, they’d delay their own research and development. Tianyan Sect’s foundation lies in its spiritual veins."

"Even if the Path of Divine Favor were as miraculous as claimed, in Tianyan Sect’s eyes, it would likely be nothing more than a toy to study."

Chen Baiqing nodded in understanding.

Chu Xingchen sighed softly—this was precisely why Bai Xuanling had sent him here.

Bai Xuanling’s intention aligned with her words: If you want to meddle, go ahead. If not, just come back.

His choice would likely influence how seriously Bai Xuanling took this matter.

If he turned and left, Bai Xuanling would probably shift her attention elsewhere.

But if he chose to act, Bai Xuanling would spare a glance—because Chu Xingchen’s involvement meant there was profit to be had.

So, it seemed Bai Xuanling had some faith in his judgment.

This had even triggered a system task, one with considerable significance. He wondered if he’d just stumbled upon it by sheer luck.

Zhou Mountain Village, Nightfall.

The sound of gongs and drums echoed incessantly from the remote mountain village.

Firelight bathed the tiny settlement in an eerie glow.

From the newly built ancestral hall emerged an open-roofed palanquin, carried by eight bearers. All the villagers of Zhou Mountain Village lay prostrate on the ground, clutching burning incense, their lips murmuring prayers and pleas.

Seated atop the palanquin was an elderly man in his twilight years, clad in a vibrant crimson official’s robe. His gaze was vacant, his lips cracked and dry, twitching faintly as if trying to speak.

Among the crowd knelt Zhou Ping, a sixteen-year-old boy born and raised in Zhou Mountain Village.

"Bless us with a bountiful harvest…"

"Let my child recover from illness…"

"Grant us wealth…"

"Let me find a wife…"

Whispers of desperate wishes filled Zhou Ping’s ears. To these people, the figure before them was no less than a deity capable of granting every desire.

Zhou Ping joined in, murmuring, "Keep me safe and healthy… keep me safe and healthy."

Their fervor wasn’t unfounded—after all, some wishes had come true.

Zhou Ergou’s wife had given birth to a son.

Zhou Tu’s dog had returned with a nugget of gold.

Countless other prayers seemed to have been answered by Ancestor Zhou, who was now on the verge of ascension.

Yet Zhou Ping felt no excitement—only bone-deep terror.

As the palanquin passed slowly before him, the drums and gongs fading into the distance, he dared a sidelong glance.

What he saw froze his blood.

Ancestor Zhou’s body was now covered in egg-like crimson growths, pulsing and swelling as if feeding on something unseen.

The palanquin wasn’t particularly heavy, and Ancestor Zhou himself was emaciated. Yet the bearers strained under its weight, their faces twisted with effort, their steps labored.

Zhou Ping understood—if anyone was becoming a god here, it wasn’t Ancestor Zhou.

It was the egg on his head.