The Western Continent of Niuhe, Zheng Yin Dharma Temple.
The setting sun hung faintly in the sky, and the occasional sound of wooden fish echoed from within the Zheng Yin Dharma Temple. Outside, however, waves of chanting surged endlessly toward the temple.
Along with the chants came waves of faith energy, pouring into the small Zheng Yin Dharma Temple.
Yuan Kong stood calmly, watching as all the faith energy was absorbed.
The faith energy seemed endless, flowing toward the Grand Hall of the temple.
The Grand Hall, like a bottomless pit, devoured all the faith energy without showing any sign of saturation.
Since setting foot on the Western Continent of Niuhe, Yuan Kong had noticed that every temple with proper Buddhist cultivators engaged in absorbing chaotic faith energy—some more, some less.
Yuan Kong was puzzled. Such turbid faith energy should be useless, after all. Proper cultivators and Buddhist practitioners wouldn’t use such impure faith energy for cultivation.
Not only was it of low quality, but bearing the mixed thoughts of sentient beings meant bearing their endless desires.
One’s joys and hatreds would be amplified endlessly, and the self would no longer remain the self.
At first, Yuan Kong thought it might be a custom of the Western Continent’s Buddhist temples—perhaps they repurposed it for other uses.
But now, it seemed that wasn’t the case.
Even as a Buddhist disciple, he couldn’t get the junior monks to speak truthfully to him.
As for Bai Xuanling’s words, Yuan Kong still held some skepticism. However, since Chu Xingchen’s name was attached to it, Yuan Kong was willing to give it a try. At the very least, if things went south, he’d know whether he should act or not.
After all these years of wandering, the lesson that stuck with Yuan Kong the most was this: only believe what you’ve seen with your own eyes. Don’t easily trust others’ words.
His senior brother had taught him the same, but back then, Yuan Kong hadn’t paid much attention.
In Bai Xuanling’s plan, Yuan Kong’s role wasn’t extensive.
After all, even without Yuan Kong, Bai Xuanling’s plan was already in motion. His presence merely added an element of surprise.
At the very least, the chances of investigating what lay beneath the chains had increased significantly.
Bai Xuanling handled all the preliminary work. Yuan Kong’s task was simply to head to the Grand Hall once the talisman she gave him signaled.
He didn’t need to break the chains—just see what lay beneath them.
It was the simplest assignment possible.
In return, Bai Xuanling waved her hand grandly, declaring that once this was done, Yuan Kong’s debt to Chu Xingchen would be wiped clean.
The gesture was so extravagant that Yuan Kong suspected Chu Xingchen—known for his penny-pinching ways—would slam the table in fury upon hearing it.
The man would split a single spirit stone into two if he could.
Since it was just a look, Yuan Kong agreed.
Yuan Kong was clear-headed. He was a Buddhist disciple, but not of the orthodox Buddhist tradition. He was Yuan Jing—his senior brother’s disciple.
His beliefs weren’t rooted in orthodox Buddhist teachings but in what his senior brother had imparted to him.
His senior brother had always claimed to lack talent, but after walking this path, Yuan Kong realized—his senior brother’s wisdom far surpassed his own. It was just that his senior brother’s innate aptitude was lacking.
Yuan Kong withdrew his gaze and quietly closed the door.
Time seemed to crawl. Yuan Kong had lost count of how many sutras he’d recited, and outside, darkness had fallen.
Yet the talisman in his bosom remained silent.
Then, abruptly, a blinding light pierced through the window, illuminating the room as if it were daytime.
Yuan Kong’s expression grew solemn. He knew—things were about to begin.
Sure enough, a deafening roar followed, as if the heavens and earth were being overturned.
The battlefield seemed distant, the clash of power immense, yet only faint ripples of spiritual energy reached them—as if the combatants were deliberately restraining the scale and intensity of the fight.
The commotion was enormous. Within moments, the Zheng Yin Dharma Temple’s alarm bell rang out, its deep toll reverberating through the halls.
Soon after, surges of powerful cultivators’ energy erupted from the temple before rapidly fading into the distance.
Yuan Kong waited silently, his senses keenly attuned to the Grand Hall’s movements.
After all… the Buddha of ancient times had been, at the very least, a top-tier cultivator at the Great Ascension Realm.
But before he could detect any movement from the Grand Hall, the talisman in his bosom suddenly glowed, transforming into a wisp of light that floated before him before dissipating into nothingness.
Yuan Kong froze.
…Was this reliable?
There was no movement from the Grand Hall. Was it really time to go?
Could Bai Xuanling have accidentally activated the talisman?
What if he ran into the Zheng Yin Dharma Temple’s abbot on his way there?
His thoughts raced, and though nervous, Yuan Kong decisively stood and pushed open the door.
The temple was eerily quiet now, the doors of every building wide open.
Taking a deep breath, Yuan Kong strode toward the Grand Hall.
The distance wasn’t far. A brisk walk brought him to the Grand Hall in no time.
The elderly monk he’d seen earlier was nowhere in sight. Yuan Kong’s gaze swept the hall, landing only on the wooden fish placed beneath the statue of the Buddha.
Yuan Kong stepped inside once more.
According to Bai Xuanling, the lock was indeed the old monk. But to see what lay beneath, he didn’t need to kill the monk—just peer through the suppression statue.
The faceless Buddha statue—if one was a Buddhist disciple, they could project themselves into it and look downward.
If Bai Xuanling were to attempt it, she’d have to blast her way through. This difference was why she’d sought out Yuan Kong.
Otherwise, Yuan Kong would’ve been irrelevant. If he couldn’t provide convenience, Bai Xuanling would never have approached him. She had no interest in reminiscing with strangers.
As for how to project himself… Bai Xuanling had simply said, “You’ll know when the time comes.”
At this, Yuan Kong could only sigh. No wonder she and Chu Xingchen got along—their cryptic way of speaking was enough to give anyone anxiety.
Yuan Kong took a few steps forward, tilted his head up, and fixed his gaze on the faceless statue. Then, slowly, he reached out his hand.
“Don’t touch it randomly.”
A voice suddenly spoke from behind him.
His heart lurched, and he spun around, his expression briefly panicked before easing—the newcomer wasn’t a bald monk.
Instead, it was a handsome young man dressed in luxurious robes.
Now Yuan Kong understood. Bai Xuanling’s “you’ll know when the time comes” wasn’t about some innate talent of his—it was because she’d arranged for someone to guide him.
Realization aside, Yuan Kong glared, unable to hide his irritation.
“You high-level cultivators—why do you all love sneaking up on people and speaking out of nowhere? Can’t you just talk properly face-to-face? I’m in unfamiliar territory, doing something risky—have you no empathy? Were you trying to scare me to death?”
Xu Jin didn’t look at Yuan Kong. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the faceless statue as he explained,
“I just arrived. Do you think it’s easy to sneak in here?”
Yuan Kong’s expression shifted to one of unease. He pressed,
“What would’ve happened if I’d touched it?”
The handsome young man spoke calmly, "Theoretically, nothing would happen either, but it's better to be cautious."
Yuan Kong: "…………???"
So if he touched it, nothing would probably happen too?
"Are you actually Chu Xingchen in disguise, using magic to trick me?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because your way of talking is annoyingly similar to his."
Hearing this, Xu Jin paused, a faint smile appearing on his face:
"Maybe I’ve just picked up his bad habits."