It was only at this moment that Fang Zhiyi reluctantly turned back to the villagers and said, "He died because of me, so I have to take care of his affairs for him. Don't worry too much—just find a place to bury his body."
With that, Fang Zhiyi left without another word, leaving a group of bewildered villagers behind.
Little Hei suddenly realized that Fang Zhiyi could no longer hear him speak.
It quickly understood: this time, things had gone too far!
Because Tripitaka had died, Fang Zhiyi had been forcibly dragged into the karmic ties of this world!
"That bastard, those country bumpkins sure are hard to shake!" the fleeing bandit leader cursed under his breath. Fortunately, he hadn't brought all his men this time; some were still back at the stronghold. Once he regrouped, he’d take them back and settle the score!
He returned to his territory, and facing his subordinates' questions, the leader’s face turned ashen.
But just as he gulped down a few mouthfuls of rice wine, commotion erupted outside.
"Damn it! What’s all this noise? You think I’m not annoyed enough already?" he roared, kicking over a table and storming toward the door. But the moment he reached the entrance, he saw a figure flying straight at him.
The leader quickly dodged, barely avoiding being knocked down by one of his own men.
"What the hell! Are you tired of living?"
That henchman’s face was full of terror as he pointed outside, stammering, "Chief, i-it’s a—a monk!"
"What monk?" The leader’s head throbbed at the mere mention of monks. He’d already dealt with one blabbermouth of a monk today. But when he lifted his eyes to look outside, his entire body went stiff.
A figure in a kasaya stood there, one hand spread open, his five fingers clamped onto the face of a low-ranking bandit. As his fingers pressed down, the man’s body twitched once and then went limp.
"You—you are—no, no, no! You’re dead! You..." The leader recognized that kasaya, embroidered with golden patterns! But that monk had clearly slit his own throat...
The figure slowly turned his face.
The leader was terrified. "It’s you again!" He recognized Fang Zhiyi.
If not for this kid, they wouldn’t have suffered such a huge loss!
Fang Zhiyi wore the kasaya, with half of his body exposed. He waved at the leader. "Long time no see. How’s things?"
"Like hell—" Glancing around, the leader grabbed a basket and hurled it, then immediately turned to flee.
But he only made it a few steps before feeling a chill in his lower abdomen. Looking down, he saw half a blade protruding from his belly.
Fang Zhiyi clapped his hands. "Bullseye!"
He turned and saw Tripitaka’s ghost following him like a shadow. Fang Zhiyi looked up at the sky. The sun was blazing—why wasn’t this guy afraid of sunlight?
And contrary to what he expected, as he slaughtered these bandits, Tripitaka’s expression remained utterly indifferent.
That look in his eyes was nothing like when he was alive.
Fang Zhiyi had tried calling out to Little Hei several times, but it was as if Little Hei had vanished into thin air.
After a moment’s thought, he figured it out: this must be Tripitaka’s doing. But for now, he had no good way to deal with it. After all, he’d picked a fight with someone he shouldn’t have from the start.
After many attempts, Fang Zhiyi discovered that no matter what he did, Tripitaka showed no reaction—just stared blankly. Only when he mentioned the "pilgrimage for scriptures" did Tripitaka stir.
"What an obsession..." Fang Zhiyi sighed. "But then again, if I’m not mistaken, this is your ninth attempt to get the scriptures... Not a single success. I’d go crazy too, if I were you."
Tripitaka stared at Fang Zhiyi without emotion.
"But why do you have to retrieve the scriptures? You’ve got plenty of theoretical knowledge—why not just compile some yourself?"
Tripitaka still didn’t answer.
Fang Zhiyi was at a loss. He cleaned out anything valuable from the bandit den and loaded it onto a horse. "Letting you set out alone for the scriptures—Yang Jian sure had a lot of nerve."
"If I retrieve the scriptures for you, will you disappear?" Fang Zhiyi suddenly asked.
After a long pause, the monk’s ghost slowly nodded, the wound on his neck gaping and closing in a grotesque rhythm.
"Damn it, I really owe you one," Fang Zhiyi grumbled.
A realization dawned on him: when Tripitaka was alive, he had no memory of his past lives, acting only on this life’s thoughts. But after death, all memories returned, and he reverted to his original nature.
That so-called original nature was the mind of an immortal or Buddha—compassionate, yet utterly indifferent to mortal lives.
"If you’d been like this earlier, you wouldn’t have died." Fang Zhiyi muttered as he headed down the mountain.
Soon, he discovered the perks of being a monk in the Sui Dynasty: no matter who he met, everyone treated him with great respect.
Fang Zhiyi managed to find out roughly where he was. This place wasn’t far from Fufeng Commandery. To travel west, he’d have to go to Qinzhou, enter the Hexi Corridor, and then step into the Western Regions...
"I’ll be worn out before I even get there," Fang Zhiyi mumbled.
No one replied, except for Tripitaka’s ghost, which followed him everywhere.
But then Fang Zhiyi paused, slowly turned, and stared at Tripitaka. Man and ghost locked eyes.
A sudden smile spread across Fang Zhiyi’s face. "Retrieving the scriptures is good. I’ll do it."
He leaped onto the horse, pulled the reins, and the horse turned southward, galloping away.
"Your Majesty, the Crown Prince’s fever has broken, but he’s been raving about 'time travel' and asking if there are any doctors," a guard reported to Yang Jian.
Yang Jian narrowed his eyes. "Could he have encountered some demon? Quickly summon the monks!"
"Yes!"
"System, are you saying this is the Sui Dynasty?" asked the prince, clad in luxurious robes.
"Yes, host."
"So what’s the mission?"
"To pursue a highly dangerous fugitive."
"Huh?" The prince looked confused.
"If you succeed, the host will have enough points."
"Meaning I can go home?"
"Yes."
"Alright then, let’s see what fugitive is so extraordinary."
His door suddenly swung open, and two rows of monks filed in, chanting Buddhist verses.
"Prince Jin, His Majesty has specially arranged for people to cleanse you of evil spirits," someone announced.
Prince Jin remained calm. He didn’t believe in this sort of nonsense at all, but for the mission, he could tolerate it.
As per his usual thinking, if he used the system wisely, he could secure his throne, and then capturing a fugitive would be a breeze. After all, under heaven, the emperor is the greatest!
He was still planning his next steps when suddenly one of the monks opened his eyes wide, locking his gaze on him.
"Prince Jin carries an unclean thing! Form the formation!"
At his shout, the other monks fanned out, surrounding Prince Jin, and began chanting sutras loudly.
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
ver to a world of cultivation and returned invincible. Modern medicine is child's play compared to elixirs; technological might crumbles before true cultivation. My name is Qin Ning, Earth's sole cultivator!
