Chapter 120 The Contrarian
[???]
[Cultivation: ???]
[Potential: ???]
[Destiny: ???]
[Loyalty: ???]
[Personality: ???]
Alright, another cultivator. My Returning Origin Realm avatar can't even discern his level, so his cultivation must be high.
This one I'll have to guess—best to send him on his way quickly.
Chen Chang'an lazily pushed over a sheet of yellow paper and smiled, "Master, since you want a character reading, write a character and let me see."
The monk did not refuse. He dipped his brush in ink and neatly wrote the character "Buddha" on the paper.
Chen Chang'an glanced and improvised, "Master, that character isn't very auspicious. Look—'佛' splits into 'person' on the left and 'fu' on the right. 'Fu' means 'not.' 'Person' plus 'not' suggests what you seek is 'not obtainable.' Moreover, the shape of 'fu' resembles a rope—perhaps entanglement and hardship await."
He expected the monk to take the hint and leave, but the other frowned and said seriously, "Benefactor, you are mistaken!"
Pointing at the character, the monk argued, "'Fo' denotes the awakened. The left 'person' represents sentient beings; the right 'fu' in ancient speech reads as 'fu' meaning to brush away. Together it means 'brush away the dust-obstacles and see one's nature to become Buddha.' This is a very auspicious sign!"
Chen Chang'an almost laughed—this seemingly dull monk was a pedantic contrarian. He deliberately drew out his tone, "Oh? But 'fu' can also mean 'stop.' 'Person' meeting 'stop' implies you will halt here with little progress, no?"
The monk immediately countered, "Not so! 'Stop' can also mean 'solid foundation.' A person standing upon 'stop' clearly signifies 'settling the heart and advancing cultivation'!"
Chen Chang'an could no longer hold back and scoffed, "Fine, fine, Master is right. I won't take your money—be my guest."
The monk persisted, "A fortune staller must interpret with sincerity; how can one—"
"Enough!" Chen Chang'an waved a hand. "If you argue more, we'll bicker until nightfall. Interpret the 'Buddha' however you like—I'm done here."
The monk regarded him long and darkly. Finally he bowed eleven times and turned to leave. His dusty kasaya flickered among the crowd and vanished from sight.
Chen Chang'an shook his head and casually crumpled the yellow paper with "Buddha" written on it.
What a pedantic crazy monk…
…
As the sun set, vendors in Ping'an Ward closed their stalls one by one. Chen Chang'an leisurely rolled up his fortune banner and, as usual, bade the neighbors farewell.
"Miss Ah Li, see you tomorrow." He smiled toward the neighboring trinket stall.
Ah Li kept her head down, tending odd items, and only replied with a faint "hm" without lifting her head.
Unconcerned, Chen Chang'an slung his cloth pack and walked out of the city. He publicly claimed to live in a small village outside the walls, but each day after leaving the city he would find an empty spot to dissolve this avatar.
Yet today, not far from the gate, he sensed someone tailing him.
Interesting.
He deliberately slowed his pace and walked casually along a creek path. The water murmured, the evening breeze cooled, and occasional bird calls punctuated the quiet.
Suddenly, he felt an invisible force envelop him from behind, like an unseen noose quietly closing. Immediately a heavy drowsiness descended, as if thousand-jin eyelids would drag him into darkness.
Is that all?
Chen Chang'an sneered inwardly. Though this avatar was only at the Returning Origin Realm, his divine sense was at the level of a Saint. Such a petty trick wasn't even enough to scratch an itch.
He was just about to disperse the faint drowsiness when his mind stirred.
A thought flashed—
Old Lu the fishmonger, those missing shopkeepers… could this be how they vanished?
It seemed very likely!
The more he considered it, the more convinced he became.
So why not play along?
He staggered twice, then collapsed to the ground, even adding a few faint snores. His act was flawless.
Sure enough, before long a shadow crept closer.
Though his eyes were closed, his divine sense clearly captured everything—the gray robe, the bald head. It was the same contrarian monk from earlier, the one who had argued over the word "Buddha"!
The monk warily scanned his surroundings. After confirming no one was near, he sighed. "Had you just accepted my interpretation, your life would have been spared. But you insisted on arguing, and now you lose your life for it. What a pity."
He pulled a dusty sack from his waist, slipped it over Chen Chang'an, tied the mouth tightly, and hoisted him onto his shoulder before striding toward the deep mountains.
Once the monk's figure disappeared, a slender silhouette slowly emerged from behind a tree by the creek.
Ah Li gazed toward the departing monk, brows furrowed, a thoughtful glint flickering in her eyes.
The monk carried the sack swiftly away from Immortal Spirit City, plunging deep into the forest.
After an unknown time, he arrived at a desolate mountain.
Halfway up stood a crumbling temple, its eaves broken, its plaster flaking—long abandoned.
Strangely, the shrine inside, where a deity statue should have stood, was empty. Only a mottled stone pedestal remained, draped in cobwebs and dust.
The monk walked up to it and dropped the sack to the ground. He then casually picked up a cracked bowl from the altar and tilted it back for a drink of the murky liquid inside.
The water shimmered with an eerie green hue, dregs floating at the bottom. Yet he drank with satisfaction, as if relishing it.
Though sealed in the sack, Chen Chang'an's divine sense swept silently through the temple—
Beside the pedestal slumped a middle-aged man, eyes dull, face slack, his breath weak as a dying ember.
It was Old Lu, the missing fishmonger!
Even more shocking, several dried corpses lay scattered nearby, their flesh shriveled like dead wood, as if drained of all essence.
So it was true…
Chen Chang'an sneered coldly.
Those vanished shopkeepers had all perished in this broken temple.
But what sinister method was this monk using to drain the very life from living men?
The monk set the bowl down and wiped his mouth, grinning with malice. "Fortune smiles today—another one delivered."
He walked to the sack and reached to untie it—
Suddenly, outside the temple came a faint crack, like a twig snapping underfoot.
The monk whipped his head around, eyes flashing wariness. "Who?!"
No reply. Only the mountain wind whistling through broken windows, echoing like a low wail.
The monk frowned, uneasy for a moment. Then he sneered coldly and turned back to untie the sack.
…
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