The temple was dimly lit. His sudden jump created a gust of wind, causing the flames to flicker. The girl, Xiaoying, saw a man suddenly emerge from the darkness, shirtless, reaching out to her. She was terrified.

As expected, she screamed. Xie Lian was about to speak when she slapped him, shouting, “Assault!”

“Slap!” Xie Lian received a resounding slap.

The sound made Nan Feng and Fu Yao wince.

Xie Lian, unfazed, quickly shoved the coat at her, whispering something. The girl, startled, touched her back, her face turning crimson, her eyes welling up with tears, whether from anger or shame. She clutched the coat and fled, leaving Xie Lian standing alone in the cold temple.

He rubbed his face, turning to the two officials, “Okay. It’s over.”

Nan Feng pointed at him, “You… did your wound open?”

Xie Lian looked down, “Oh.”

He removed his coat, revealing his body, tightly wrapped in white cloth, bandages around his neck and wrists, numerous small wounds visible at the edges.

Thinking his neck was healed, Xie Lian began to unwrap the bandages. Fu Yao looked at him, “Who?”

Xie Lian, “What?”

Fu Yao, “Who did you fight?”

Xie Lian, “Fight? No one.”

Nan Feng, “Then these wounds are…”

Xie Lian, bewildered, “I fell.”

“…”

The wounds were from his fall three days ago. A fight wouldn’t necessarily cause such injuries.

Fu Yao muttered something, certainly not complimentary. Xie Lian finished unwrapping his neck. Nan Feng and Fu Yao’s gazes fell on his neck.

A black collar encircled his neck.

Noticing their gazes, Xie Lian smiled, turning, “First time seeing a true curse collar?”

A curse collar, a curse manifested as shackles.

Demoted gods receive a mark of divine punishment, binding them, sealing their power, a constant reminder, a terrifying and shameful punishment.

As the thrice-demoted laughingstock of the Three Realms, Xie Lian naturally had one. The officials had heard of it, but seeing it was different. Xie Lian understood their reaction.

He wanted to find clothes, but Fu Yao rolled his eyes, saying, “You look indecent.” Nan Feng threw him a temple attendant’s robe. Feeling the awkward atmosphere, Xie Lian took out the scroll, “Want to look again?”

Nan Feng glanced at him, “Seen it. He needs to look at it.”

Fu Yao, “What? The scroll is vague and worthless?”

Xie Lian felt sorry for the officials who wrote it. Fu Yao said, “Where were we? Nan Yang Temple—why are there so many female believers?”

Xie Lian put away the scroll, rubbing his temples. He knew: nothing would get done tonight!

Instead of discussing the case, they discussed why Nan Yang Zhenjun Feng Xin was once called “Giant Sun Zhenjun.” He hated this title. Everyone felt it was unfair.

The correct term was “Together Sun.” The error occurred when a sovereign wrote the temple’s name, mistakenly writing “Giant Sun Palace” instead of “Together Sun Palace.”

This troubled the officials. Was it intentional or a mistake? If intentional, why not issue an order? If unintentional, why such a mistake? They couldn’t say “Your Majesty, you’re wrong,” fearing it would be perceived as sarcasm or an insult. And it was the sovereign’s calligraphy.

The most difficult thing to understand is the intentions of a sovereign. The officials decided it was better to upset the god than the sovereign.

The sovereign didn’t react to the change, but hired scholars to find reasons to prove “Giant Sun” was correct. Overnight, all “Together Sun Palaces” became “Giant Sun Palaces.”

Feng Xin learned about this more than ten years later. He rarely looked at his temple’s sign, but one day noticed many women visiting, blushing and praying for things?!

After understanding, he cursed at the sky.

The other gods were shocked.

He couldn’t stop the believers, so he endured it for years. Until a sovereign changed it to “Nan Yang,” but people still remembered his other abilities. There was an unspoken agreement: never use the old name. How to evaluate Nan Yang Zhenjun? One word: good!

As long as he doesn’t curse, everything is fine!

Nan Feng’s face was dark. Fu Yao poetically said, “Friend of women, best for children. Nan Yang, the giver of sons. Ahahaha…”

Xie Lian suppressed his laughter, giving Nan Yang some face. Nan Feng was furious, “Stop being sarcastic, sweep the floor if you’re bored!”

Fu Yao’s face turned dark. Xuan Zhen Palace couldn’t stand hearing about sweeping. Mu Qing had been a servant at Huangji Temple, serving and cleaning for Xie Lian. Xie Lian, seeing his hard work, asked the national master to accept him as a disciple. This was both shameful and admirable, depending on perspective. Mu Qing considered it a lifelong shame. Fu Yao said, “It sounds like Nan Yang Palace feels sorry for the Crown Prince.”