At this moment, the sky had already darkened, and after a while, the mountain forest would likely become so pitch-black that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

Coincidentally, there was a dilapidated mountain god temple ahead, and Edward Grant planned to rest there for the night.

Pushing open the rickety temple doors, he saw that the paint on the mountain god statue's face had faded and dissolved, making the already somewhat strange statue appear even more hideous and ferocious, with a blue face and fangs, looking just like a demon.

Edward Grant, however, had no qualms about it.

After crossing over for more than a month, he had already experienced two deadly battlefields. No matter how evil ghosts and gods were, they were once human—could they really be more wicked than the human heart?

Edward Grant casually bowed twice to the mountain god statue. “Borrowing your place for a night, and adding a bit of liveliness for you.”

He gathered some dead wood to start a fire. In Edward Grant's pack, there were still some flatbread and dry rations, which, if rationed, could last a few more days.

Just as he was roasting the hard flatbread over the fire, a commotion sounded from outside.

“Miss, there’s a temple ahead. Let’s rest here for the night.”

The broken temple doors were pushed open, and eight people entered one after another.

Leading them was a middle-aged man dressed as a guard—the one who had just spoken.

Behind him was a young woman in a white gauze dress, with delicate features and gentle brows, exuding the air of a noble lady.

Beside the young woman was an elderly man in a brocade robe. Though neatly dressed, he walked half a step behind the lady, his posture slightly stooped—clearly a steward or butler.

The remaining five were guards armed with swords, sabers, and crossbows, surrounding them protectively.

The head guard glanced at Edward Grant in the temple and frowned. “Boy, I have womenfolk here, which is a bit inconvenient. I’ll give you a tael of silver if you give up this place. How about it?”

At this, the young lady quickly interjected, “Uncle Lin, he was clearly here first. How can we ask him to leave?”

As she spoke, the young lady nodded gently to Edward Grant. “My family acted improperly. Please don’t take offense, sir.”

“It’s nothing. It’s not easy for anyone traveling away from home.”

Edward Grant stroked his chin and smiled.

Their manners were so proper that he lost the chance to show off and put someone in their place—a bit of a pity. He really didn’t have the aura of a main character.

The steward then instructed several guards to gather more dry wood, making the fire burn even brighter. Not long after, two more groups arrived at the small mountain god temple.

The first to enter was a young scholar carrying a bundle, his face slightly pale.

Just as the scholar stepped inside, a man and a woman also entered the temple.

Both wore close-fitting martial outfits, straw hats, and bundles on their backs, with long swords at their waists—a typical pair of wandering martial artists.

The man looked proud, his appearance ordinary. The woman, though not beautiful, was cute and lively, obediently following behind the man. They didn’t seem like a married couple—more likely senior and junior disciples.

Edward Grant glanced around the mountain god temple, the corners of his mouth twitching into an inscrutable smile.

Chapter 8: Night Talk at the Mountain God Temple

In the mountain god temple, aside from the guards, everyone gathered around the campfire.

The old steward smiled and said, “Everyone, since fate has brought us together, and the night is long, let’s introduce ourselves.

My master is the newly appointed Langzhong of the Sacrificial Rites Division of the Ministry of Rites, Matthew Reed. After being transferred to the capital, he had us escort the young lady there. We thought the shortcut would be easier, but didn’t expect the wild mountains to be even harder to traverse.”

The scholar cupped his hands and said, “I am a scholar from Pingyang Prefecture, Donglin County, named Benjamin Harris. I’m heading to the capital for the imperial exams, and also took the shortcut, which is how I ended up in these mountains.”

Among the pair, the man said proudly, “I am Andrew Morgan, an elite disciple of Qingyuan Sword Sect in Donglin County. I’ve come out to roam the martial world, determined to punish evil and slay demons. Surely you’ve all heard of the great name of Qingyuan Sword Sect?”

The young woman beside him said sweetly, “I am Emily Foster, a novice disciple of Qingyuan Sword Sect, traveling the martial world with my senior brother.”

Andrew Morgan glanced over, but the scholar Benjamin Harris looked completely bewildered—clearly, he knew nothing of the martial world.

Edward Grant just shrugged. Having only recently crossed over, he only had a vague understanding of the cultivation world. How would he know what this Qingyuan Sword Sect was?

The old steward chuckled, “So you’re young talents from Qingyuan Sword Sect—my apologies for not recognizing you.”

Anyone could see that the old steward clearly hadn’t heard of Qingyuan Sword Sect either, but was just giving them a way out. Yet Andrew Morgan didn’t notice, instead raising his head even more proudly.

“And you, sir?”

The old steward turned his gaze to Edward Grant.

Edward Grant replied calmly, “My name is Daniel Grant, just an ordinary wandering swordsman.”

A group of strangers who happened to meet—there was no need to reveal his real name.

Edward Grant’s courtesy name was given by Old Madam Grant after his parents passed away, meaning long life and peace, intended for use when he came of age.

So even in the Marquis of Loyalty and Courage’s household, few people ever called him by his courtesy name.

Hearing Edward Grant say this, the others didn’t press further.