Chapter 108: Master, Are You Also a Monk?

“What’s going on?”

“How should I know?” Wen Jinge shot him a sidelong glance. “How did you end up here?”

“I saw a mountain that looked a little like the place where I died.”

Wen Jinge: …

Silently, she imagined lining up a whole row of candles for herself. Could this fellow have been killed by the former Wen Jinge too?

“Died… where?” she asked.

That Lu Wei would answer her at all was already beyond Wen Jinge’s expectations. They had known each other for so long, yet Lu Wei never took the initiative to mention his past. Even when prompted, he would immediately turn around and leave.

“A place leading to the Divine Realm.” He said no more. “You, on the other hand—they seem very pleased to see you.”

“I suspect the former me was one of those people who turned everyone into a backup lover.”

“What does that mean?”

Wen Jinge had a great many strange new expressions. Lu Wei was accustomed to hearing them. Though he did not understand them, he knew this one was probably not complimentary.

“Whatever I was like in my previous life, perhaps I’ve come back in this one to repay my debts.”

Lu Wei: …

He remained expressionless for a moment, then seemed to misunderstand her. “No wonder you’re so greedy for money in this life.”

Wen Jinge: …

“All right, I’m done teasing you. Tell me—if they discover they’ve made a mistake, do you think they’ll still treat us with such courtesy?”

“I doubt it.”

“Couldn’t you wish me a little good fortune?”

“None of the nice things I’ve ever said have come true!”

“…”

“Neither have the bad things!”

Wen Jinge instantly stopped being angry.

Wen Xueshan had been watching Wen Jinge the entire time. Whenever she grew angry, he would tremble; whenever she brightened, he would relax.

Thus, throughout the journey—including when they found Liang Si and Wang Xi at the fork in the road, and the two disciples excitedly tried to interact with her—she remained cold and distant, as though she had reverted to the aloof Immortal Master Wen of old.

Until…

When Lu Wei appeared at the city gate to wait for her, she let herself go completely.

But only for a moment. Then she felt the pressure mounting again.

The instant the city gates opened, a vast, densely packed crowd came into view.

Every person in the city was concealed beneath a black robe. Without exception, they were kneeling on the ground. As far as the eye could see, there were people—each bowing reverently toward her, their voices shaking the heavens:

“Welcome back, Ancestor!”

Wen Jinge touched her nose.

This was awkward.

She did not even know what expression she was supposed to wear to look normal. The people before her were far from normal, and she had always dealt only with ordinary people. She truly had no experience handling devout heretics.

A few crows flew across the sky, perfectly suited to the occasion, as though mocking her helplessness.

The scene was solemn. The atmosphere was grave. Everyone looked deadly serious.

Only Wen Jinge and her companions stood there dumbfounded.

“Welcome back, Ancestor!”

Seeing that Wen Jinge did not speak, the others, led by Wen Xueshan, seemed to have imagined something of their own. Like recording machines, they repeated the same words again and again:

“Welcome back, Ancestor!”

Lu Wei discreetly prodded her in the back and chuckled under his breath. “Impressive. Admirable. Enviable.”

Three brief words, yet they perfectly expressed his state of mind.

“Amitabha. How benevolent, how benevolent!” The Sorrow-and-Joy Buddha knew only that one phrase.

“Master…” Liang Si swallowed and seemed to want to say something, but ultimately said nothing.

Yang Wennan kept his eyes closed, sitting as motionless as an old monk in meditation. No one knew what was going through his mind.

As for Wang Xi, she remained utterly bewildered, with no idea what was happening.

“Master, they won’t get up unless you say something.” Ling Yi, the only person present with experience as a religious charlatan, yawned as though the chanting had awakened him. “Master, I want to go back to bed.”

“Oh.” Wen Jinge nodded and walked into the city without even raising her head.

Who among ordinary people could possibly comprehend the world of an untouchable flower on a high mountain?

Before this, only Wen Xueshan had stood outside the city gate. As a memoryless Ancestor, there was nothing wrong with being a little gentler. But to remain so humble before her people—would that not simply give her subordinates an opportunity to rebel?

Wen Xueshan opened and closed his mouth. Gazing at Wen Jinge’s retreating back, he instead revealed a strangely delighted smile.

Wen Jinge had not told him to rise, so he would not rise. Yet as the clan leader, with the Ancestor’s arrival, he still had to follow her.

And so he walked on his knees.

Wang Xi had initially thought that her master had gone too far. But when she saw the smile on Wen Xueshan’s face, a chill crept through her heart.

“A thousand years…” Wen Jinge muttered. “Hey! What do you think?”

“Walls have ears.” Lu Wei had heard what happened after they had split up and offered only those four words.

Wen Jinge understood.

“Then let’s sleep!”

The courtyard Wen Xueshan brought them to was enormous, easily large enough for each person to have a room of their own. But her disciples were all cunning little spirits. They insisted on having a heart-to-heart with Wen Jinge, and as a result, the five of them were now crammed together.

As for the Sorrow-and-Joy Buddha, he was currently sobbing outside the door.

It was all because Ling Yi had casually asked, “Master, are you a monk too?”

He had been thrown out of the room.

The light inside gradually dimmed. The Sorrow-and-Joy Buddha glanced at the room prepared for him, then looked at the room behind him. After weighing his options, he resigned himself to becoming the doorkeeper.

The desert wind was cold. The monk slept on the steps with his arms wrapped around himself, drool streaming from the corner of his mouth. In his dreams, wine and roast chicken were luxuries he would never dare hope for. He dreamed that he had returned to the past.

Back then, he had swept the floors of the Hidden Treasury Sect. He had not yet taken vows, and he observed no restrictions regarding meat or vegetables.

The Hidden Treasury Sect had adopted many children. Some came from poverty; others had arrived of their own accord.

Once these children reached the age of ten, the sect would arrange a formal initiation ceremony for them. Only then would they have their heads shaved and be required to observe the rules and precepts. Only from that moment onward would the Hidden Treasury Sect recognize them as disciples.

He was staring at the chicken leg on the table, wanting to reach for it, when a young novice monk approached. He had likely just had his head shaved, for a faint blue stubble still covered his scalp.

“This humble monk is Zhiyin. May I eat your chicken leg?”

“You’re a monk. Why would you eat mine? Monks aren’t allowed to eat meat.”

“Who says so?” the novice retorted.

He was thin and wiry. In just a few quick bites, he gnawed the chicken leg down to the bone.

“You saw me eating it?”

“I saw you. There’s grease on your face. That was given to me by the abbot.”

The novice seized his sleeve and wiped his mouth on it.

“And now is it still yours?”

He suddenly felt wronged. He wanted to say something, but he stammered and stumbled over his words, unable to get them out.

His parents had abandoned him at the gates of the Hidden Treasury Sect not because he was physically impaired, but because he had been seven years old and still could not speak. It was the old abbot who had slowly taught him to form words, yet even now his speech remained halting and disjointed.

At times like this, the weakness of his tongue became painfully obvious.

“You, you, you’re bullying me!”

“That’s all?” Zhiyin asked. “Look at me. I’m so thin that one push from you would send me sprawling. How could I bully you?”

“You, you’re bullying me!”

In the days that followed, Zhiyin continued stealing his food. Then one day, Zhiyin came looking for him.

“Hey! Where’s your chicken leg?”

“A dog ate it!”

It was the most complete sentence he had ever spoken.

“I think someone else stole it.” Zhiyin stood in front of him and waved the chicken leg in his hand. “Here. Take it.”

“You, you aren’t eating it?”

“My master is about to accept another disciple, and it’s making me so upset. I can’t eat.” At that, Zhiyin seemed to remember something. “You’re almost ten, aren’t you? Are you staying here, or going down the mountain?”