"What's unique about Jing Country?"
Zhou Xuan was deeply curious.
The Buddha Country had been fixated on probing Jing Country,
ever since its first arrival three hundred years ago, it had been infiltrating Jing Country persistently.
If Jing Country were like a bowl of fragrant braised pork, wouldn't it have some delectable aroma?
Yet Zhou Xuan had never caught a whiff of any such aroma from Jing Country.
In terms of technology, Jing Country was only on par with the Republic of China from his previous life—streets bustling with human-powered rickshaw pullers, and steam trains at the railway stations.
As for resources, nothing particularly outstanding had been observed.
So, what exactly was the Buddha Country so covetous of?
"Ah Xuan, are you curious about something?"
"What is it?"
"Have you ever seen Eight Incense in Mingjiang Prefecture?"
"Perhaps among the Saint Heir and Saintess, but not otherwise."
Zhou Xuan replied.
