"You know, Little Hei, the gods in this world probably shouldn't meddle in mortal affairs, right?" Fang Zhiyi asked.
Little Hei replied, "That's correct. They say it would disrupt the order of heaven and earth."
"Good to know." Fang Zhiyi suddenly thought of something. "Just wait. Tomorrow I'm going to pass the imperial exams, then I'll make that monk write 'Drop your butcher's knife and become a Buddha on the spot' a thousand—no, ten thousand times!"
But as he was lost in his fantasy, a sudden cry rang out.
Fang Zhiyi snapped back to reality and saw that the bandit leader had burst through the villagers' encirclement, tackled the monk who was sitting cross-legged reciting sutras, and pressed a blade to his neck.
"Nobody move! If anyone comes closer, I'll kill him!"
The monk, clearly flustered, stammered, "Benefactor, benefactor, think twice! As they say..."
Before he could finish his rambling, the leader smacked him on the head. "Shut up, you bald donkey!"
The monk looked wronged, his eyes pleading as he glanced at the villagers.
Fang Zhiyi found it amusing. "Well, Your Eminence, now's your chance to shine. We rough folk just seek vengeance. Since you're here to preach your Buddhist teachings, now's the perfect time to prove yourself."
"I..." the monk began, only to receive another blow to the head.
"Everyone stay put! His Eminence has a plan!" Fang Zhiyi said.
The villagers exchanged glances, hesitating, and held back, their eyes fixed on the monk.
Seeing this, the bandit leader snarled, "Move aside, or I'll kill him!"
"I... I..." The monk felt the bandit's agitated knife slice his neck, and terror overtook him.
Fang Zhiyi watched with folded arms, knowing full well this monk couldn't die—after all, on the journey to fetch scriptures, he was captured by demons countless times yet always bounced back; his fate was already sealed.
The bandit kept threatening the crowd to clear a path. The villagers, timid by nature, actually stepped aside.
"Benefactor, you... put down the knife. I can guarantee your safety," the monk finally managed to say.
The bandit spat. "You? Just you? Hah! When my brothers were beaten to death earlier, you said nothing. Now you guarantee my safety?"
The monk trembled. "Benefactor, I... I am on an imperial mission to seek the scriptures. These are Sui Dynasty commoners; they will naturally heed my advice..."
Fang Zhiyi's smile froze.
"Baldy! What did you just say?" he blurted out. But the sudden shout startled the nervous bandit, who instinctively tightened his grip on the knife just as the monk turned his head.
Right before everyone's eyes, the monk slit his own throat.
Even the bandit leader was stunned. "I... I didn't... it wasn't me!" He shoved the monk's corpse away and fled.
The sudden turn of events left everyone dumbfounded. No one chased the escaping bandit; instead, they all stared at the monk writhing on the ground, clutching his throat.
"Liang Kingdom..." Fang Zhiyi suddenly remembered. From beginning to end, the monk had only called himself "Tripitaka" and never once said he was "Tang Sanzang"! He had simply assumed this guy was Tang Seng! That meant—
Fang Zhiyi turned to Little Hei, who sighed helplessly. "I told you, things might be a bit different. I came in a hurry; I wasn't sure myself..."
Fang Zhiyi's mind raced. The Sui Dynasty? The Sui Dynasty lasted only a short time, but it did have an emperor who greatly promoted Buddhism... Yang Jian!
That made sense! Fang Zhiyi looked around again. Earlier, he'd wondered why a village under Tang rule was so impoverished, but ancient commoners' lives were generally like that, so he hadn't thought much of it. Now he saw clearly.
The Sui Dynasty? It followed the Wei, Jin, Southern, and Northern Dynasties, and the regime had just stabilized, naturally leaving the people to suffer.
He stared blankly at the monk's fallen body, his mind buzzing.
Because of his interference, this Tripitaka had died? What now?
The villagers were murmuring among themselves, but Fang Zhiyi didn't catch what they said. His mind was in turmoil.
Timing-wise, it fit. If this Tripitaka was real, then he was the ninth incarnation of the scripture seeker! The next would be Tang Sanzang, and his previous life had likely been associated with Emperor Wu of Liang, Xiao Yan—another devout Buddhist.
But he had just died right in front of him?
A hand patted Fang Zhiyi's shoulder repeatedly. He whipped around, his fierce glare startling the old village chief.
"Xiao Wu..." the chief stammered, fear in his eyes. "What do we do now? The great master died in our village. If the emperor finds out... we're all finished!"
Having just witnessed Fang Zhiyi's martial skill, the chief instinctively turned to him for help.
Fang Zhiyi realized this too, but he was still baffled. According to his knowledge of history, there was no mention of a Tripitaka going on a scripture quest during the Sui Dynasty. He had no idea what the connection was between this monk and Yang Jian.
Seeing Fang Zhiyi silent, someone suddenly noticed something strange and whispered among themselves.
"Little Hei, I feel like something's off," Fang Zhiyi said.
"Like what?"
"Something just tried to bind me," Fang Zhiyi replied.
Little Hei was calm. "That's probably the karma of this world... You've been here less than a day and already entangled yourself with this monk's fate. He died because of you..."
"What do I do?"
Before Little Hei could answer, Fang Zhiyi caught a figure from the corner of his eye. He jumped in shock.
He saw the dead monk standing there, staring at him. The gash on his neck was still there, but no blood flowed.
Seeing his reaction, Little Hei looked confused. "What's wrong?"
Fang Zhiyi pointed beside Little Hei. "You can't see him? The monk!"
Little Hei looked around. "Don't scare me. What monk?"
Fang Zhiyi's scalp tingled. Even Little Hei couldn't see this Tripitaka's soul? What was going on?
"What's happening to you?" Little Hei sensed something wrong.
Fang Zhiyi didn't answer. He stared at the ghostly monk, who stared back. After a long moment, the monk pointed at his own corpse, then at Fang Zhiyi.
The villagers were still deciding what to do when Fang Zhiyi suddenly moved. He stepped forward, snatched the monk's cassock from his body, gestured at the air, and—to everyone's astonishment—wrapped the cassock around himself.
"Xiao Wu, what are you..." The chief tried to stop him, but watching Fang Zhiyi gesticulate at nothing sent chills down his spine.
Then, without hesitation, Fang Zhiyi picked up the monk's belongings, pulled the travel permit from his robes, and finally took the reins of his horse.
nce】【Lighthearted Comedy】【Ultimate Gentleman's Novel】【Viewer Discretion Advised for Under 16】 The mightiest human hero, Sharen Morian, is resurrected after a thousand years by his wife—the Demon King. This is not your typical hero-vs-demon-king tale.
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
he colors of other people’s emotions. Light red meant anxiety. Gray meant exhaustion. Orange meant excitement. Yellow... meant repression. At the same time, he could gain unlimited control over one of those colors. Pale cyan: relaxation. Using this ability, he started offering “two-yuan hugs,” spending an afternoon exchanging emotional-color experiences with others. Then came his final female customer of the day— a girl whose emotional color was pure black... —— A week later, Xu Chuan had become skilled at using pale cyan—Relaxation—treating it like a bottle of menthol balm whenever he needed it. That was when he discovered he had unlocked another unlimited emotional color: Purple, the color of fear. So these emotional colors refresh every week? Fine, I take it back—I’ll never call you useless again... —— Much later, after Xu Chuan had accumulated countless emotional abilities, one night, he suddenly found himself inside someone else’s dream. There, he could use the emotional colors he possessed to paint. And in her dream, he painted her a shower of pink shooting stars, spreading across the depths of the night sky...
