Unintended Immortality-Chapter 443: The God Who Exorcizes Evil Gods Loves Eating Chicken

“Crack...”

The decapitated statue in the temple instantly fractured like ice, covered in a web of cracks. It quickly crumbled into countless pieces, even the wooden branches and straw inside snapping and scattering onto the ground.

Though the temple had been built with funds pooled by the villagers and was at least a proper structure, Song You had no intention of destroying it. Instead, he summoned a large boulder from the mountain and placed it at the temple’s entrance. With a flick of his bamboo staff through the air, he sliced a smooth, flat surface onto the rock.

Then, he turned to the little girl who had just run outside.

“Lady Calico, please write for me.”

“Write?”

Lady Calico, with her pouch bulging at her side and a large red rooster still cradled in one arm, lifted her head at his words, staring at him in confusion.

“It’s nothing—just that you’ve diligently practiced writing for years and have already achieved a certain level of mastery in calligraphy. I would like to ask you to write something on this stone to inform the villagers.”

“Inform the villagers?”

“Yes, to let them know the Mountain God has been eliminated.”

“Alright!” The little girl immediately set down her pouch, then went to the horse’s saddlebag to retrieve a brush before walking over. “What should I write?”

“Write...” Song You paused for a moment before reciting, “‘The evil god has been eradicated. Do not worship it again. The livestock may be reclaimed freely. We’ll take the rooster as payment. You have kind hearts. I hope you will continue to stay true to your principles in the future—blessings will surely follow...’”

“The evil god has been eradicated...” Standing before the boulder, the little girl began writing from top to bottom.

At first, she had to stretch her arms high and stand on tiptoe. Gradually, as she wrote lower, she adjusted her posture, eventually bending down and squatting to complete the final characters. When she finished, she stood up again.

Her handwriting remained neat and well-formed. Perhaps due to her extensive reading, her script, which initially resembled Song You’s style, now leaned more toward a printed typeface. However, it still lacked its own unique flair and seemed to be missing a touch of spirituality.

“Kind hearts...”

As the last character was written, a sudden crackling sound echoed.

Dust and tiny stone fragments cascaded from the boulder’s surface, carried away by the wind. Startled, Lady Calico instinctively jumped back two steps, even though she had been crouching while writing.

When she looked up again, she found that every word she had written had been deeply engraved into the stone.

“Oh wow!”

“Let’s add a few smaller words on the back as well.”

“Smaller words?”

“Just mention that a wanted criminal—who was also a local—had previously hidden in the temple at night and was devoured by the evil god. As for the exact wording, I’ll leave that to you to decide.”

“Alright!”

The little girl eagerly took up the brush again and carefully penned a smaller inscription on the back of the stone.

The moment she finished, fine dust fell once more, the ink sinking into the rock as if etched into its surface.

“What kind of magic is this?”

“Just a simple trick.”

“A swimple trick!” Lady Calico shot him a sidelong glance, clearly unconvinced.

“Let’s go.” Song You took the rooster from her hands and secured it to the horse’s back.

Leaning on his staff, he started walking ahead. “While you were guarding the Mountain God’s temple, I wasn’t idle either. I went down to the village and borrowed a pot. An old man there was quite generous—he gave us some Swallow Rice as well. And now, with this fine rooster, we shall have a pot of firewood-cooked chicken with some flatbread.”

“Who did you borrow the pot from?”

“A village elder at the foot of the mountain. He was very easy to talk to. I also asked him about the Mountain God and the nearby situation while I was there.” Song You spoke as he walked. “I left a small string of coins as a deposit with him.”

“Where are we going to eat?”

“Naturally, we’ll first find a mountain spring to clean the chicken, then pick a scenic spot with a good view to cook and enjoy the meal.”

“I knew it!”

“Of course...”

Sometime during their conversation, the moon had vanished from the sky, replaced by the faint pale glow of dawn at the horizon. The countless stars had faded, leaving only the morning star still shining.

As the long night waned and the world remained cloaked in the dim light of dawn, the small group continued their journey up the mountain path, their figures growing smaller in the distance.

Behind them, only an empty temple remained, and in front of it, a lone stone stele—marking the end of one story and the beginning of another.

***

Between the mountains, there were numerous mountain springs, their waters murmuring softly through the valleys.

Whether it was the work of local villagers, merchants who frequently passed along these routes, or officials and local clerks, many of these springs had been fitted with bamboo tubes and slats to channel the water, allowing it to flow ceaselessly throughout the night. This made it convenient for people to collect and drink water whenever they needed.

Song You chose a secluded spring, slightly away from the main road, and heated some water. He then slaughtered the rooster, cleaned it thoroughly, and cut it into pieces. Wrapping the chicken in broad musa basjoo leaves, he carried it up to a mountaintop.

There, he gathered firewood and set up a simple stove with his iron pot.

The Swallow Rice given by the old farmer had been stored for a long time, drying out completely in the mountain air. Song You rubbed the grains loose, poured them into his small everyday cooking pot, covered it with a lid, and gave it a slight shake.

He made no additional movements, but the rice inside could be heard clinking and rattling. Soon, the sound weakened and eventually disappeared. When he lifted the lid again, the rice had turned into a fine white-yellow powder.

He mixed it with white flour, kneading it into dough. Only then did he light the fire and begin stir-frying the chicken.

The little girl, dressed in her three-colored outfit and still carrying her pouch, stood stubbornly by the stove, her sleepy eyes constantly blinking as she rubbed them. Yet, despite her exhaustion, she refused to look away, watching the Daoist’s every movement with unwavering focus.

She refused to miss a single detail.

As he stoked the fire and cooked, Song You glanced at her and said, “Lady Calico, you spent the entire night fighting demons without rest. Why not take a short nap? By the time you wake up, the chicken will be ready.”

“I’m not sleepy!” Her voice was firm, full of determination.

She was eager to learn—driven by a relentless thirst for knowledge. No method for making food taste better, especially something as critical as cooking a rat, was to be overlooked.

“...” Song You sighed in resignation but continued his work.

By now, the morning had fully arrived. The sky was clear, the breeze gentle. It was neither too warm nor too cool—a comfortably pleasant start to the day.

Below them, the village was beginning to stir. The crowing of roosters and the barking of dogs echoed through the valley. Wisps of smoke from cooking fires gathered into a thin mist, curling around the mountain slopes like a jade ribbon.

Even here, on the wild mountaintop, there was the warmth of human life.

The oil in the pot was now hot. As soon as the chicken pieces hit the pan, they sizzled loudly, releasing countless golden bubbles. The meat quickly lost its raw, bloody color, turning golden brown as it tightened.

Though he lacked broad bean paste, Song You had prepared all the other essentials—ginger, garlic, chili, and various spices—all of which he added one by one. Soon, a rich and enticing aroma filled the air, carried by the mountain breeze.

“Gulp.”

The little girl rubbed her eyes again and swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

Song You poured in a bit of water, then removed his bamboo hat and placed it over the pot as a makeshift lid. Unhurried, he sat down, watching the mist roll over the blue-green peaks.

After a long wait, he finally lifted the hat.

Next, he pressed six small corn flatbreads along the edge of the pot, placing them near the chicken broth to absorb its rich flavors. Once they were arranged, he covered the pot again with his hat and resumed sitting.

The little girl plopped down beside him.

The mountaintop was a small, unclaimed patch of land, untouched by farmers. It was covered in needlegrass—a kind of wild grass that grew in tight clusters, each blade fine as a strand of hair, often found on mountain peaks or cliff edges. Its best quality was that when spread out, it naturally formed a soft cushion, perfect for sitting.

Beside them, the pot bubbled steadily, steam rising through the bamboo hat. The aroma continued to spread, filling the mountain air.

Song You remained seated, unmoving, gazing into the distance.

Lady Calico's eyes seemed like they could barely stay open. She kept rubbing them, stubbornly fighting off sleep. She tried to imitate the Daoist, staring off into the distance as if contemplating something profound, yet she constantly stole glances at the iron pot beside her.

When she was truly too drowsy to endure, she would get up, fetch the crushed pears and oranges salvaged from the ruined Mountain God’s temple, and feed them to the horse.

Time flowed by slowly and peacefully. The morning dew on the wild grass atop the mountain gradually dried.

At some point, the little girl’s head drooped slightly, her eyes half-closed, as if pondering the meaning of life.

“It’s ready!” At last, Song You lifted the lid.

“Swoosh!” The little girl instantly perked up, leaping to her feet and rushing to grab bowls and chopsticks.

“Sit down.” Song You motioned for her to sit by the pot.

The swallows never ate human-prepared food, let alone poultry, so they were spared the trouble of dining with them.

Inside the iron pot was a generous serving of braised chicken, with only a few wild greens scattered throughout. Along the sides of the pot, the golden flatbreads had crisped up, exuding a familiar yet long-missed aroma.

Naturally, the first thing Song You picked up was a Swallow Rice flatbread. Lady Calico mimicked his actions exactly.

Song You took a bite, and the little girl followed suit.

The surface of the flatbread was golden and slightly rough in texture, while the underside had been toasted to a deep reddish-brown. The first bite was a bit coarse, but the taste was richly fragrant and subtly sweet.

“...” Song You fell silent.

The familiar taste inevitably stirred up long-buried memories. Savoring the flavor, he found that his thoughts went beyond just the taste of the simple corn flatbread.

But he said nothing. Instead, he took another piece and pressed it into the chicken broth, letting it soak up the rich juices before lifting it again.

Lady Calico copied him exactly, carefully observing his every movement. Even the amount of time she let the bread soak was the same as his.

Her meticulous imitation made for an undeniably endearing sight.

However, when she thought about a future day when one of the remaining stalks of Swallow Rice that the old farmer had given Song You would be missing half its grains—made into a flatbread not much different from today’s—then, with almost the same motion, dunked into a pot of broth flavored with firewood-roasted field mice, her cuteness took on an oddly unsettling edge.

“What do you think?”

“I think it's delicious!”

“Eat some meat.”

“Eat some meat!”

Song You picked up the first piece of chicken. Only then did the little girl follow suit.

The rooster was at least two or three years old, making its meat a bit tough. However, after slow cooking, it had become firm yet tender. The skin, having absorbed the broth, was full of elasticity and had taken in all the rich flavors of the spices. With just one bite, both Song You and Lady Calico felt that the effort of eliminating the demon last night had not been in vain.

“Delicious!” The little girl praised it enthusiastically, her expression suddenly turning serious as she fell into deep thought.

Song You, however, remained silent, simply enjoying his meal.

At this moment, all the exhaustion from the previous night vanished. The vastness of the world and the fullness in his heart created a rare sense of peace on the journey—a fleeting moment of true contentment.

Meanwhile, in the distant mountains, commotion arose.

***

A group of villagers had finally mustered the courage to ascend to the Mountain God’s temple.

Initially, they only wanted to check on the livestock they had offered the previous day—to see what remained—and to tidy up the temple a little. However, knowing that the Mountain God consumed livestock and that someone had even offered a little girl, fear lingered in their hearts. Thus, a large group of elders and young men had gathered to go together.

But what they saw before them stunned them.

In front of the temple, all the livestock were still there—except for the chicken. The rest, tied to trees, were untouched.

A large stone, its surface smoothly cut, stood at the temple entrance. Inscribed upon it were words. Inside the temple, chaos reigned.

But the most shocking sight—the Mountain God’s statue had been shattered.

“What happened?!”

“This is terrible!”

“It must have been that Daoist from last night!”

“There’s writing on the stone!”

“Someone who can read, come read it aloud!”

“Mr. Zhang San, Mr. Zhang San, come read!”

At once, everyone gathered at the temple entrance, huddling around the stone tablet, their eyes locked onto the inscriptions.

Someone began reading aloud. The crowd was stunned.

Only now did they realize that the Daoist from last night had not come to offer sacrifices to the Mountain God—nor had he come to steal their livestock.

He had known that this place harbored an evil god and had come specifically to exterminate it—a true immortal! And only a true immortal would eradicate the evil god, yet leave behind all the precious cattle, sheep, and horses, taking neither pigs nor dogs, but only a single, worthless rooster.

If not out of compassion for the people, then perhaps, he simply loved eating chicken.