The great battle in the Yang Domain had barely subsided when every manner of strange creature crawled out of the woodwork. Jiang Chen had no choice but to tread carefully.
He immediately halted his cultivation and followed Dugu Wudi toward the front courtyard.
He himself had no reliable channels for the time being, and had already entrusted Fu Baosong with purchasing a Pulse-Opening Pill—fulfilling the promise he'd made to Dugu Wudi. It would be completed before long.
Every arrangement in this courtyard had been handled without Jiang Chen lifting a finger. It was all taken care of by Dugu Wudi.
He wasn't particularly bothered by such matters, but he had to admit the place was far more pleasant to the eye and ear now.
The visitor was waiting in the front courtyard.
He was a gaunt, yellow-faced old monk in coarse hemp robes, wearing a pair of straw sandals that left his toes exposed. On those toes, dark grime was clearly visible.
As Jiang Chen studied him, the old monk studied Jiang Chen in turn.
"What brings you here, Master?" Jiang Chen asked.
The yellow-faced old monk raised one palm in greeting. "This humble monk has come because of karma."
Jiang Chen didn't take the bait or engage in any wordplay. Instead he deliberately said, "If you're here to beg for food, I can arrange a vegetarian meal."
The yellow-faced old monk nodded. "Then this humble monk thanks the benefactor."
Jiang Chen: ...
If it were just a matter of begging for food, Dugu Wudi would have handled it long ago.
This old monk had waited until now—there was surely some other purpose behind his visit.
Moreover, the man's aura flickered between presence and absence, his cultivation unfathomably deep.
Jiang Chen wished to avoid needless trouble. When the line between friend and foe was unclear, it was best to rein in one's curiosity. So he deliberately tried to shut him down with the offer of food, never expecting the old monk to simply take him up on it.
He really was just here to beg for food!
Jiang Chen was after all the lord of Green Mountain Town. He could certainly afford one vegetarian meal.
But as the bowls piled higher and higher, Dugu Wudi's expression grew less and less pleasant.
She had grown up in hardship and understood the virtue of frugality. She had seen begging monks before—typically they'd accept a single bowl of rice and a few vegetables, nothing more. Since when did a beggar gorge himself on over twenty bowls of rice? He'd consumed five plates of vegetables as well!
But since Jiang Chen said nothing, she could only hold her tongue.
When she slipped away to the kitchen, she quietly instructed the cooks to add extra salt—hoping this ravenous ghost reborn would be salted by his own sweat and lose his appetite.
The yellow-faced old monk ate with great piety, saying nothing, his eyes fixed unblinking on the food. He chewed each bite slowly and deliberately. He appeared meticulous, yet he was by no means slow.
The stack of empty bowls and plates grew until the cooks had to be rotated.
Jiang Chen could not very well let a mysterious powerhouse roam free, so he maintained excellent patience and sat alongside, keeping him company.
He couldn't explore the Primordial Mist, but simply sitting there and nurturing his Dao essence was no problem.
It was only after the empty bowls reached forty and nine empty plates lay stacked that the yellow-faced old monk finally set down his chopsticks, patted his belly, and let out a satisfied sigh.
"Master, have you finished eating?" Jiang Chen asked.
"One must not exhaust one's fortune, nor revel in it completely," the old monk said quite seriously. "Half-full is enough. One must practice restraint."
"...I stand corrected."
The yellow-faced old monk glanced at him, wearing an expression that said: now there's a boy who can be taught.
It was Dugu Wudi who could stand it no longer. She helped the servants clear the bowls and plates, and took the opportunity to slip outside.
"Amitabha." The yellow-faced old monk raised one palm in greeting, only now remembering to introduce himself. "This old monk is Kujué. I trust the benefactor has heard the name."
As a matter of courtesy, when a monk was this old, it wouldn't do to show excessive disrespect.
Though Jiang Chen had never heard of any Master Kujué in his life, he played along. "Master, your great virtue is renowned far and wide. Naturally this junior has heard the name. May I ask what brings you—"
"It is all karma!"
The yellow-faced old monk's withered, wrinkled face seemed to smooth out. "Old monk and you, we have a connection!"
Before Jiang Chen could speak, Kujué continued, "The whole world knows that this old monk is a reasonable man."
He looked Jiang Chen up and down, and the more he looked, the more delighted his gaze became. "Having received a meal from your hand, how could this old monk repay you with nothing?"
The words "You're too kind" had not yet left Jiang Chen's mouth.
The yellow-faced old monk declared, "Then I shall bestow upon you my mantle!"
"Pack your things now and follow me into the temple. I shall pass on everything I know, holding nothing back. Within thirty years, you too will be admired across the land as this old monk is! Well then—we monks have nothing much to pack. Let us be off..."
Even as he spoke, he reached out to seize Jiang Chen.
"Wait—wait one moment!"
Jiang Chen leaped back several paces.
Was the man insane?
He, Jiang Chen, was an eighteen-year-old prodigy at the Soaring Dragon realm, a titled lord of Green Mountain Town under the Qi court. He had talent, he had strength, he had potential, and his influence was growing by the day.
Why would he drop everything on no provocation to become a monk following this old man?
If it weren't for the fact that this old monk clearly possessed genuine cultivation and didn't seem like a complete fool, Jiang Chen would have turned and walked out long ago.
Though his mind churned with confusion, he maintained basic courtesy on the surface. "Master, perhaps there's been some misunderstanding? This junior has no intention of becoming a monk!"
Kujué looked rather displeased. "You have no intention now—how do you know you won't in the future?"
"...You don't know yourself. How could you possibly know?
Jiang Chen said as calmly as he could, "Not now, and probably not ever."
"You can only speak for the present you, not for the future you." Kujué began walking toward him. "Don't waste time. Hurry and accept me as your master."
Jiang Chen retreated warily, a touch of dissatisfaction rising in his heart. "Master, please have some restraint. Don't make unreasonable demands."
"You stubborn child, why won't you listen to reason?" Kujué's brows knit together. "This old monk has walked this path before. Why would I deceive you? Before I entered the monastic life, I too wore fine clothes and rode spirited horses, believing my glory was boundless. Yet all splendor is but a bubble, and all worldly affairs rise and fall. Only after taking refuge with the Buddha did I at last find supreme peace!"
Jiang Chen couldn't help glancing at the monk's hemp robes, then at his straw sandals with their exposed toes.
He wasn't one for luxury like Zhao Yan, but this was a different kind of extremes altogether.
If this was what "peace" looked like—then no thank you.
Noticing Jiang Chen's gaze, Kujué's frown deepened. "All mortal riches are but passing clouds. Can you not see through even that?"
Jiang Chen muttered, "I have no aptitude for wisdom."
"..."
At last it was Kujué's turn to fall silent.
The yellow-faced old monk was quiet for a moment, then forced a thin smile. "No matter. This master is skilled at turning stone into gold."
The man's skin was as thick as a Kun Drum. They hadn't even agreed yet, and he was already calling himself "master."
"There's no need to transform me. I am already gold!"
The word "master" brought back anything but fond memories. To this day, he had only ever sincerely acknowledged one—Dean Dong. From initial wariness, to eventual trust, to the final betrayal...
Jiang Chen's pride was stoked. He refused to play along any longer and turned to leave.
But somehow, after only a few steps, his eyes went blank—and he found himself standing right where he'd started!
What kind of technique was this?
He hadn't even noticed it happen!
Jiang Chen gripped his sword hilt and turned back. "Master, what is the meaning of this?"
"There there, good disciple. There's no need to draw swords against your master—what sort of lack of respect is that?"
As Kujué spoke, he extended his hand.
His feet hadn't moved, but Changxiangsi was already in his grip. Before Jiang Chen could even react, his hands were empty!
A swordsman who loses his sword in the moment of life and death loses his life along with it!
"A fine blade! But too fierce!" Kujué held the sword before him and lightly brushed a finger along its length. "Today I've found a worthy disciple. This old monk has nothing of great value to offer, so let me help you temper it!"
A flash of Buddhist light swept across Changxiangsi. Kujué tossed it back, and before Jiang Chen could register what had happened, his sword was once again in his hand.
He and this sword had been together day and night, of one heart and mind.
Nothing about Changxiangsi appeared to have changed, yet something about it was unmistakably different.