Chapter 85: The Banquet of a Hundred Spirits

"Where is the Holy Son?" Wen Jingge did not reveal herself hastily, instead transmitting her voice through her spiritual technique.

She had suffered setbacks at the hands of monks before, but that was in her previous life. They claimed their beads could alter fate, yet the more she bought, the worse her luck became.

Monks were eloquent, and she considered herself no match for them. The monk she met in the Illusion Realm was but a remnant soul from a millennium ago. Though righteous in life and with no intention to trouble her, Wen Jingge knew she was not his equal in philosophy. Hence, after departing the Illusion Realm, she not only studied Buddhist teachings herself but urged her disciples to do the same when time allowed.

Anyone else, she could torment at leisure. But monks were different; she feared mishap.

"You're much the same as before. Seems the rumors outside are but illusions," the monk sighed, golden light swirling in his eyes. He withdrew the Golden Bell Shield and rose from the ground. "Follow me."

The children who had blocked his path were awed by the sudden surge of his aura. They sought only survival in this chaotic world, keenly aware of when to yield or resist, and so they stepped aside.

"I thought you only knew how to defend," Wen Jingge sneered coldly.

This monk—he could have avoided it, yet insisted on inviting misunderstanding. Who knew what he was plotting?

"Buddha is merciful," he sighed, hands pressed together. "The killing intent on your sword grows heavier, oh—devil sword."

"Are you not the Buddha of Joy and Sorrow? Why speak of virtue?"

The monk's old face flushed, coughing awkwardly. "You might as well call me Fool, as you did before. That's what outsiders call me."

"You're not my kin, why should I call you Fool?" Wen Jingge snapped impatiently. "If you can guide us, why didn't you say so sooner!"

The monk's expression twitched; he dared not provoke Wen Jingge further, afraid she might utter something earth-shattering.

Wen Jingge's temper—truly, it was worsening.

"I followed the tracks left by the demon clan's Holy Son. As for the Buddha of Virtue and Vice you mentioned, that's my senior brother..."

"You needn't explain! I have no interest in the affairs of your Buddhist sect," Wen Jingge cut him off.

For some reason, she found the Buddha of Joy and Sorrow's gaze unsettling, as if he wished to lure her back to the Secret Treasury Sect.

"Yes, yes." He agreed readily, but still said, "The Zhi Yin you once admired is now the Buddha of Virtue and Vice. Before our master passed away, he always longed for you, but those decades you were in seclusion."

Wen Jingge: ...

"Back then, Uncle Busuanzi took you to the Secret Treasury Sect to strengthen the formation. Your discourse on Buddhism shattered the worldview of us novice monks, yet our master greatly admired you. If not for Uncle Busuanzi stopping him, you might have become my senior sister."

Wen Jingge squatted on the ground. She refused to move; her head throbbed.

So, being tricked by monks into buying dozens of fortune beads in her past life was truly retribution!

The Buddha of Joy and Sorrow's words weighed no less than a man being praised as a talent by the palace's chief eunuch, only to be told it's a shame not to remain.

"Master..." Yang Wennan looked at Wen Jingge with a hint of reverence.

One day, if he entered the Secret Treasury Sect, he too would trample these people, just as his master did today. The monk had made her unhappy!

"If it weren't for your disciple earlier—"

"Don't call me senior sister," Wen Jingge groaned, her headache worsening. "Have any of you noticed something amiss here?"

[Ha ha ha ha!]

"...," Wen Jingge's face drooped, wary. "What do you intend?"

[To teach you a lesson.]

Wen Jingge drew a deep breath, her expression cold enough to chill. Yang Wennan watched her closely, tense, while Lu Wei shook his head. "What can you do? Chop off your master's head?"

The Buddha of Joy and Sorrow should be blind to this.

All he could discern was that the speaker was something between demon and not, tinged with spiritual energy—like someone nurtured by innate qi. He couldn't fathom the relationship with Wen Jingge: disciple or peer.

"What's wrong, Immortal Wen?"

"She has a brain ailment, nothing serious." Lu Wei picked her up, apologizing to the monk. "Let's hurry and search. If the Holy Son escapes, all our efforts will be wasted."

"You...," the Buddha of Joy and Sorrow regarded him thoughtfully.

Wen Jingge was arrogant, but also upright. No man had ever gotten near her.

Now, inexplicably, she'd taken several disciples. The young man who pushed him earlier was one; this one now, "Demon or...?"

"What difference is there between demon and human?" Lu Wei replied calmly.

He used to care about such things, even obsessing over them, believing it normal that people feared him since he'd become a demon.

But Wen Jingge was an exception, as were the disciples who called him Grandmaster on the mountain. What's the difference, really?

Humans fight to survive; demons do the same.

"Human and demon are ultimately different paths. The great war is approaching. Immortal Wen is a rare genius in a thousand years; you'd best not hinder her."

Lu Wei gave the monk a second glance, once more understanding Wen Jingge's difficulties. Monks these days—truly troublesome!

He'd done nothing to Wen Jingge, yet was already deemed a villain.

"Does the Buddha of Joy and Sorrow always consider sorrow before entering joy?"

"The child you're possessing will be affected by you," he said, hands pressed together, his face full of compassion, no smile remaining.

Lu Wei: ...

Ah!

He sighed inwardly. If only Liang Si were here, he could borrow a hammer.

"Don't go!" Wen Jingge clutched his sleeve. Though thin, she was strong.

"What's wrong?" It was Lu Wei's first time carrying someone, awkward and without technique. It wasn't a princess carry, but more like cradling a child. He didn't stop in time, and Wen Jingge pinched his neck.

"Ugh, I'll faint and Qiao Yu should awaken."

Wen Jingge released her grip just in time, the red in her eyes fading. "Dig!"

"Dig?" He hadn't time to clarify before Wen Jingge handed out several picks. "Yang Wennan, I know you've been peeking at your junior's ghost cultivation. You know the Hundred Ghost Banquet? Mark the spot where I stand as the formation's core, and dig."

Yang Wennan's expression tightened, cold sweat breaking on his forehead—not because Wen Jingge had caught him, but because of the infamous Hundred Ghost Banquet.

Those children...

His breathing quickened as he looked up at his master.

Yuan Qingling's rejuvenation had been due to the demon pill and thunder tribulation. Now, Yuan Qingling was hardly human, more like a manufactured half-demon. After undergoing that tribulation, he gradually lost his humanity.

And the Hundred Ghost Banquet—where do the hundred ghosts come from?

As the name suggests, it summons a hundred ghosts.

There were no ghosts here, only children and those powerless women buried in the Spring Palace. Their resentment, unwillingness, and grief after death would suffice to create a scene of ten thousand ghosts wailing.

And why?

To seek the nearest path—to create an entrance suitable for the Demon Lord's soul to return to the world.