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Hearing Sangsang’s weak voice woke Ning Que up; he released his grip on the podao and put his hand on his waist—He was a Tang man from the Academy and was supposed to have no positive feelings for these scoundrels. Ning Que was worried about Sangsang’s condition. He definitely did not want to start a war between the Divine Hall and the Academy if he could find a peaceful resolution to the problem.

As he moved his hand, a voice sounded from the depths of the temple. An old man said, "Mr. Thirteen doesn’t have to draw the saber because this place is not the Wilderness and I’m not Cheng Lixue either."

As the hoarse voice sounded, the expressions of the middle-aged priest and the soldiers became solemn. A moment later, an elderly priest in a crimson robe slowly entered.

In the West-Hill Divine Palace, not every Taoist was qualified to wear a crimson robe. The priests who wore this garment were sent to every vassal state, and had a level of status that was unattainable for their companions in the temples.

The old, crimson-robed priest had been stationed in the Kingdom of Qi for over 30 years. Although he was not from a powerful family, even the emperor of the kingdom had to show him respect.

Looking at Ning Que standing next to the black, horse-drawn carriage, the old priest held a vigilant look in his eyes. He thought, "He should have departed from the group of Tang’s ambassadors and headed to Lanke Temple. Why did he come here?"

Hearing the name of Mr. Thirteen, the solemn soldiers finally figured out his identity and they could not help but feel complicated about him.

The Tang Empire was the most powerful country in the world, and it was also the only one which the West-Hill Divine Palace could not control. The Academy and Haotian Taoism had been vaguely hostile for a long time; they waged countless wars to a capacity that mortals had never ever known, but neither side fell completely.

As a respectable, crimson-robed priest, when facing a man coming from the Second floor of the Academy he was unable to assert his pride and equally unwilling to be afraid.

Under the protection of the West-Hill Divine Palace, vassal countries like the Kingdom of Song and the Kingdom of Qi had never met Tang’s cavalry, so they were not afraid and managed to remain calm.

Looking at the old priest, Ning Que said, "Since you knew who I am and you are unwilling to follow Cheng Lixue in the Wilderness, I think we can negotiate. I only need some herbs from you and I will pay for them. I just need you to hurry up and give them to me now."

The crimson-robed priest took the list over from the middle-aged priest and frowned whilst saying, "The Academy is worthy of respect but this Taoism Temple worships Haotian."

Ning Que could already hear the upcoming refusal in the man’s voice. His declining anxiety and impatience rose once more. He bent forward, stared into the old man’s eyes and said, "I would ask for Ye Hongyu to meet me and humiliate you in front of her if I had the time. However, that is exactly what I don’t have, so I request you to take a careful look at the ID token in my hand."

Then he took an ID token out of his belt and showed it to the priest. He held it so close as if he may hit it into the priest’s face.

Although the name of Ye Hongyu sounded familiar to him, he didn’t remember who she was immediately. He had lived in the temple his whole life and no one had called her by this name except in his first few years there.

After a few moments, he finally realized who he was talking about and glared at Ning Que. He thought, "Even if you are the Headmaster’s core disciple, it is still unacceptable and disrespectful to call the Great Divine Priest of Judgment by her name."

However, he stopped glaring as soon as he saw the ID token.

Looking at this perfectly normal ID token, the priest turned to one of shock and he was reminded of the rumor about Ning Que’s little handmaiden. His body could not help trembling and his face turned pale.

He suddenly became aware of his old age and felt that he was often forgetting important details. Since Mr. Thirteen of the Academy was here, why was she not?

He was both old and confused, which meant he most definitely had to be fatuous. A man like him was no longer qualified to be a crimson-robed priest. If Commander Luo would not let him go when he returned to the West-Hill to report his work this year, he would have to retire.

However, even though he may be becoming redundant, he finally saw the ID token again after 16 years later. The Great Divine Priest’s position had been vacant for 16 years and it was important once again. That was enough for him.

The old priest had many thoughts upon seeing the ID token. Then he turned to the black, horse-drawn carriage and slowly knelt.

Witnessing, people in the temple cried out.

Ning Que was not surprised though; he had many ID tokens on his waist. People could remember some of them but forgot the others.

However, the things that happened next still surprised him.

The crimson-robed priest knelt in front of the carriage and put both his hands on the rough stone ground. His gray hair shook whilst he murmured to himself. He looked sentimental and as opposed to frightened, and eventually even seemed to become reverently excited.

People in the temple had no idea what had happened and they didn’t know who was in the carriage. Even if the Great Divine Priest of West-Hill himself had personally arrived, the priest would not react like this.

The only one who was able to guess the truth of the situation was the middle-aged priest.

As the old priest’s most trusted subordinate, he happened to see and hear the old priest drinking and celebrating during nights after he came back from the West-Hill Divine Palace last year. Thus, he knelt behind the old priest without any hesitation.

He kowtowed to the carriage heavily with endless fear and reverence and tremblingly said, "Welcome, the Lady of Light."

His voice sounded inside the temple and did not echo, but everyone heard his words.

With a lot of stridulations in the peaceful and white temple, all the people who were standing on the steps and reading the scriptures knelt down as soon as possible after hearing the middle-aged priest’s words.

They prostrated themselves in worship, too afraid to say anything.

A long time passed.

Sangsang’s weak voice emerged from the carriage. "Rise, all of you."

No one moved including the most respectable priest in the crimson robe.

From the moment he heard her voice, tears began falling down his face and drenched his deep wrinkles, like a spring rain on a dry patch of land.

He trembled and forgot to rise because he was so happy.