Taoist Master, wishing for a sacrifice-based system

"Hello, your order has been delivered... Are you sure this location is correct?"

The delivery guy's voice on the other end of the phone was full of confusion.

"Yes, right here. Go down that little side path at the foot of the mountain."

Qin Du leaned back on the futon, holding his phone in one hand and a game controller in the other, without even looking up.

"But... I can't find it on my navigation app. There's just one dilapidated—uh, just one old house on this road, it looks abandoned."

That's it.

"..."

The delivery guy was silent for three seconds.

"Is this a Taoist temple?"

"Qingyun Temple, it's a legitimate temple that has a proper sign."

"Um, where's the sign? I can't see it."

Qin Du finally looked up from the controller and glanced towards the courtyard.

Ok.

Half of the characters on the plaque have been eroded by wind and rain and are no longer legible. The remaining half of the character "青" is also teetering on the brink of collapse, as if the next strong wind could carry it away.

"...You can come in as the abandoned one."

I hung up the phone.

Qin Du sighed and paused the game.

He is 24 years old this year, and graduated from university a year and a half ago with a major in marketing. He should be a happy cog in the machine in some office building.

As it turned out, fate had a completely different script for him.

—The nineteenth Celestial Master of Qingyun Temple.

Sounds pretty intimidating, right?

The actual situation is as follows:

A dilapidated Taoist temple, covering less than 200 square meters, is nestled at the foot of a small mountain in the suburbs of Yunzhou City.

The main hall contains three statues of gods. The largest one is missing half a hand, the smaller one has lost its nose, and the middle one is intact. However, its eyes are covered with a layer of dust, making them look like they have cataracts.

The incense burner is rusted.

The prayer cushion is torn.

The stone tablet at the entrance is still there, with a few lines of text engraved on it:

"Three sticks of incense, one wish. Making a wish is free, fulfilling a wish is up to fate."

Signed: Written by the first Celestial Master of Qingyun Temple.

It is said to be a rule left by the Qin family's ancestor.

Unfortunately, by the time of Qin Du's generation, this rule had lost its meaning.

Because—no one even comes to burn incense.

He peeked outside.

Halfway up the mountain, the magnificent eaves of the Da Ci'en Temple gleamed in the setting sun.

The parking lot was lined with a queue stretching for hundreds of meters, with a constant stream of worshippers. The sounds of chanting and firecrackers could be heard from afar.

And what about him?

It was so quiet that you could hear an ant walking by.

The last "guest" to visit the Taoist temple was a lost orange cat three days ago.

He ate half a bowl of his instant noodles and then left.

They haven't fulfilled their vows yet.

"Ding-dong—"

The takeout has arrived.

Qin Du carried the bag back to the main hall, plopped down on the prayer mat, opened a bowl of hot and sour noodles for 12.8 yuan, and charged his phone using the only working power strip in the Taoist temple.

While eating, he glanced at his mobile banking balance.

4327.18 yuan.

This is all the inheritance his grandfather left him.

No, there's also this Taoist temple.

But this Taoist temple is more of a burden than a heritage.

Monthly utility bills, basic maintenance fees, cleaning fees for that awful road in front of the gate...

At this rate, we can only last another two months at most.

Two months later, the dignified nineteenth generation Celestial Master of Qingyun Temple would have to go out and deliver takeout.

Qin Du chewed on his hot and sour noodles, his gaze falling on the small bronze money box on the offering table.

Those were my grandfather's belongings.

A small, palm-sized copper box contained only one copper coin, rusted and its age impossible to discern.

Before his death, his grandfather held his hand and said one sentence—

"Xiaodu, this temple cannot be closed. If you stay here, you will understand someday."

Then left.

They just left like that.

What secret techniques of the Celestial Masters, what Taoist temple traditions, what cultivation methods—

Not a single word was taught.

He left behind only a broken copper coin and a nonsensical last message.

"Guard? Guard what, Grandpa..."

Qin Du muttered something under his breath, finished the last sip of soup, and wiped his mouth.

Tomorrow, he plans to go and ask a real estate agent.

Although the land for the Taoist temple cannot be bought or sold privately, the buildings on the land... we should be able to find a way to manage them, right?

If all else fails, we can sell these broken statues as scrap metal.

Anyway, nobody worships them.

He cleaned up the trash and got up to wash up.

Then--

"bite."

A very soft, crisp sound came from the offering table.

Qin Du paused in his steps.

He turned his head and saw the copper coin—the rusty copper coin his grandfather had left him—

It is glowing.

It's not a reflection, it's not an illusion.

A pale golden light seeped out from the patterns on the copper coin, thread by thread.

The dust on the altar was blown away by an invisible airflow.

Qin Du stood there, stunned.

"Varied--"

Before I could finish speaking, it was as if something had flipped a switch in my mind.

A cold, synthesized voice rang out directly in his mind:

[Ding—The Heavenly Compensation and Wish-Granting System has been activated.]

[Host identity detected: Qin Du, the 19th Celestial Master of Qingyun Temple.]

Bloodline verification passed; copper coin medium activated.

Qin Du: "...?"

The sound continued:

The core rules of the system are as follows:

First, anyone who burns incense and makes a wish at Qingyun Temple will surely have their wish fulfilled.

Secondly, the way a wish is fulfilled is determined by the will of Heaven, and the host cannot interfere.

Third, the cost is borne by the person making the wish and cannot be transferred to others.

Fourth, the more greedy the desire, the more outrageous the price.

Fifth, for each wish the host helps to be fulfilled, they will receive "Incense Points" as a reward. Incense Points can be used to exchange for Taoist temple repairs, personal enhancements, special items, etc.

Current incense points: 0.

[Current Taoist Temple Rating: Dilapidated (on the verge of abandonment).]

Qin Du stood there, mouth agape, the smell of hot and sour noodles still lingering.

He looked at the system panel three times.

"........."

Qin Du's expression became quite interesting.

He took a deep look at the still faintly glowing copper coin.

Then I looked at the empty Taoist temple.

Then I checked 4327.18 in my mobile banking app.

Then, slowly, slowly, a somewhat complicated smile appeared on his face.

"Grandpa..."

"The legacy you left behind..."

"He's got something."

He picked up the copper coin and flipped it through his hand.

The light had faded, and the copper coin had returned to its previous rusty state.

But the system panel is still there.

It floats in the lower right corner of the field of view, like the HUD interface in a game, and only he can see it.

Incense value: 0.

Taoist temple rating: dilapidated.

System function: Basic wish (unlocked).

"OK."

Qin Du put the copper coins into his pocket and patted the dust off his clothes.

"It's worth a try."

"that is--"

He looked around, and the entire Taoist temple was deserted.

"Where am I supposed to find someone to make a wish with?"

There was silence for a few seconds.

The sound of the evening bell from Da Ci'en Temple drifted in from outside the window, deep and resonant, making Qingyun Temple seem even more deserted.

Qin Du glanced down at his phone.

The live streaming software that was open while playing the game was still on the screen.

He stared at the icon, his eyes slowly narrowing.

"It's 2025..."

Even the best wine needs to be advertised.

"It's time for Qingyun Temple to enter the Internet age."