Noticing their gaze, Xie Lian smiled slightly, turned around, and said, "Is this the first time you've seen a real curse shackle?"
A curse shackle, as the name suggests, is a shackle formed by a curse.
Gods who are banished from the heavenly realm have a divine punishment that turns into a mark of sin, placed on them as a binding, sealing their divine power, ensuring they can never escape.
It's like having words tattooed on one's face or being chained by the hands and feet—a punishment and a warning, both terrifying and shameful.
As the laughingstock of the three realms, having been cast down twice, Xie Lian naturally had such a curse shackle on him.
These two young martial officials couldn't have not heard of it, but hearing about it and seeing it in person are quite different.
Therefore, Xie Lian could understand their expressions.
He guessed that this thing might have made the two young martial officials feel uneasy and uncomfortable. After all, it wasn't something good.
He wanted to find an excuse to put on some clothes and take a stroll outside, but Fu Yao gave him a disdainful look and said, "Going out on the street looking like that is quite indecent," which stopped him.
It was Nan Feng who casually pulled a robe from the back of the hall and threw it to him, saving him from further indecency.
But after sitting down again, he felt that the atmosphere had become a bit awkward, so Xie Lian took out the scroll given by the Ling Wen Hall and said, "Do you want to take another look?"
Nan Feng glanced up at him and said, "I've already seen it. I think he needs to take a good look."
Fu Yao said, "What do you mean I need to take a good look? That scroll is vague and worthless, is it worth looking at again?"
Hearing him say the scroll was worthless, Xie Lian couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the small officials at Ling Wen Hall who wrote until they were pale. He then heard Fu Yao say, "Ah, where were we? Nan Yang Temple—why are there so many female believers at Nan Yang, right?"
Alright. Xie Lian put away the scroll, rubbed his throbbing temples, and knew in his heart: tonight, no one will be able to focus!
If they couldn't focus on serious matters, they might as well see what was going on.
It turned out that besides the Crown Prince, who had been collecting junk in the mortal world for hundreds of years, everyone in the heavens knew that True Lord Nan Yang, Feng Xin, had once been called "True Lord Giant Sun."
He himself absolutely hated this title.
And everyone's feeling about his experience was summed up in one word: "Unjust!"
Because the correct writing was supposed to be "Ju Yang."
The reason for the misunderstanding was because of an incident.
Many years ago, a king was building a palace and, to show his sincerity, personally inscribed the plaques for each palace and hall.
But when he got to writing "Ju Yang Hall," for some reason, he wrote it as "Giant Sun Hall."
This troubled the officials in charge of the palace construction.
They couldn't figure out if His Majesty meant to change it on purpose or if it was an accidental mistake.
If it was on purpose, why didn't he clearly decree that he wanted it changed? If it wasn't on purpose, how could he make such a simple mistake? They couldn't just tell His Majesty, "You made a mistake," as who knew if he would think they were mocking his carelessness or implying he was shallow? And since this was His Majesty's calligraphy, they couldn't just discard it, could they?
The hardest thing in the world to guess is the intention of a sage.
The officials were in extreme agony, and after much thought, they decided it was better to wrong True Lord Ju Yang than to wrong His Majesty.
It must be said that they made the right choice.
When His Majesty found out that Ju Yang had become Giant Sun, he didn't show any other reaction, but simply invited a group of scholars to extensively research ancient texts, finding countless minor reasons to write many articles, striving to prove that it was originally Giant Sun and Ju Yang was the incorrect writing. In short, overnight, all the Ju Yang Halls in the country became Giant Sun Halls.
Feng Xin, who had his divine title inexplicably changed, only found out about it more than ten years later.
He had never really looked closely at the signboards of his own temples, but one day he suddenly felt very puzzled as to why so many women seemed to come to his temple to pray, all shy and blushing, and what exactly were they praying for?
After figuring out what was going on, he stormed to the peak of the Nine Heavens and cursed loudly at the blazing sun in the sky.
All the gods were shocked by him.
After cursing, there was nothing he could do.
People prayed as they wished, and he couldn't just go against these sincerely praying women, so he gritted his teeth and endured it for many years.
Until Giant Sun was changed by a proper king who thought it was inappropriate to Nan Yang, people still remembered that besides being a martial god, he could also conveniently bless other things.
However, everyone also adhered to a tacit agreement: never use those two words to refer to him. At the same time, they also held a common understanding: how to evaluate True Lord Nan Yang? One word: Good!
As long as he doesn't start cursing, everything is good!
Over there, Nan Feng's face had already turned as black as the bottom of an old pot, while Fu Yao, on this side, was poetically inspired, saying in a refined manner, "Friend of women, strongest for seeking children. Secret of vitality, child-giving Nan Yang. Ahahaha, ahahaha, ahahahahaha..."
Xie Lian kindly held back his laughter, saving some face for him in front of Nan Yang's statue. Nan Feng, however, was furious: "Stop with the sarcasm, if you're so bored, go sweep the floor!"
With this one sentence, Fu Yao's face also turned as black as a pot.
If Nan Yang Hall couldn't stand hearing those two words, then Profound Truth Hall couldn't stand hearing the word "sweep."
Because Mu Qing, when he was a servant at the Royal Extreme Temple, spent his days serving tea, sweeping floors, and making beds for Crown Prince Xie Lian.
One day, Xie Lian saw him reciting cultivation mantras while sweeping the floor and was moved by his perseverance and determination to learn in adversity, so he pleaded with the national teacher to take him as a disciple.
This matter could be seen as either a disgrace or a commendation, depending on how the person involved viewed it.
Clearly, the person involved considered it a lifelong shame, because Mu Qing and his martial generals would always turn against anyone who mentioned this word.
Sure enough, Fu Yao steadied himself, glanced at Xie Lian, who was innocently waving his hand, and sneered, "Hearing you talk, one might think your Nan Yang Hall is full of people standing up for the Crown Prince."
Nan Feng sneered back, "Your general is indeed ungrateful, what else is there to say?"
"Uh..." Xie Lian was about to interject when Fu Yao laughed, "Your general is just as guilty, what right do you have to criticize?"
"..." Hearing them use him as a stick to beat each other's superior, Xie Lian finally couldn't take it anymore and said, "Wait, wait. Stop, stop."
Naturally, no one listened to him, and they even started fighting, though it was unclear who started it. In any case, the offering table split in two, and the fruit rolled all over the floor.
Seeing that he couldn't stop the fight, Xie Lian sat in the corner, sighed "what a mess," picked up a small bun that had rolled to his feet, wiped it clean, and was about to eat it when Nan Feng saw it out of the corner of his eye and immediately slapped it out of his hand: "Don't eat that!"
Fu Yao also stopped fighting, shocked and disgusted, saying, "It's fallen on the ground and you still want to eat it!"
Xie Lian took the opportunity to make a gesture, saying, "Stop, stop, stop. I have something to say."
He separated the two, speaking gently, "First, the Crown Prince you're talking about is me. I haven't even said anything, so don't use me as a weapon to attack each other."
Pausing, he added, "I think your generals absolutely wouldn't do this, and by acting like this, how can they save face?"
Upon hearing this, both of their expressions became somewhat complicated. Xie Lian continued, "Second, you're here to assist me, right? So are you listening to me, or am I listening to you?"
After a while, they both said, "Listening to you."
Although their faces seemed to be saying "dream on," Xie Lian was satisfied and clapped his hands together, saying, "Good. Lastly, the most important point—if you have to throw something, please throw me, not the food."
Nan Feng finally took the bun Xie Lian had been holding and trying to find a chance to eat, and couldn't stand it anymore, saying, "If it falls on the ground, don't eat it!"
The next day, they met again at the small shop.
The Tea Master was stretching his legs at the door, and from afar, he saw the three approaching.
A Taoist in simple white clothes walked in front, with two tall young men in black following behind.
The Taoist came leisurely, arms folded, more like an idle person than the Tea Master himself: "Shopkeeper, three cups of tea, please."
The Tea Master laughed, "Coming right up!"
Thinking to himself, "These three silly boys are here again. It's a pity, they're all so good-looking, but their brains are all messed up. Talking about gods and immortals, ghosts and heavens. If a person is crazy, what good is it to look nice?"
Xie Lian still chose a seat by the window. After they all sat down, Nan Feng asked, "Why come here to talk? Can you ensure no one will overhear?"
Xie Lian replied gently, "It's alright. Even if they hear, no one will care, they'll just think we're crazy."
"......"
Xie Lian said, "To avoid us three just wasting time staring at each other, let's get straight to the point. After a calm night, have you thought of any solutions?"
Fu Yao's eyes lit up, and he coldly said, "Kill!"
Nan Feng replied, "Nonsense!"
Xie Lian said, "Nan Feng, don't be so harsh. Fu Yao isn't wrong, the fundamental way to solve the problem is to kill. The question is where to kill, who to kill, and how to kill. I suggest..."
At this moment, the sound of gongs and drums came from the street, and the three looked out the window.
It was that mournful "wedding procession" again. The team was making a racket, as if afraid others wouldn't hear.
Nan Feng frowned, "Didn't they say that locals near Yu Jun Mountain don't dare to hold big weddings?"
The team consisted of strong, muscular men, their expressions and muscles tense, sweating bullets, as if they were carrying not a joyful bridal sedan but a death-dealing guillotine.
Who knew what kind of person was inside the sedan?
After pondering for a moment, Xie Lian was about to go out for a look when a gust of cold wind blew, lifting the curtain on one side of the sedan.
The person behind the curtain was slumped in a strange position inside the sedan. Her head was tilted, revealing a face with bright red lips under the bridal veil, the smile on her face overly exaggerated.
As the sedan jolted, the veil slipped off, revealing a pair of wide-open eyes staring this way.
It looked like a woman with a broken neck was silently laughing at them.
Whether it was because the sedan bearers' hands were shaking too much, the bridal sedan was unsteady, and the woman's head wobbled. As it wobbled, "thud," a head fell off, rolling onto the street.
And the headless body inside the sedan also fell forward—"bang," the whole person tumbled out of the sedan door.