"Master has come back from the dead! Senior Brother Yuan Ci, save us!" The disciples came rushing out in a swarm, and several of them were knocked down by those behind them.
Seeing that all the monks of Falian Temple wore gray robes, many of them patched, and that some had hair nearly an inch long without bothering to cut it, I knew the temple was poor. But despite the state of the temple where Divine Monk Fuhai lived, it didn't mean he was a penniless monk. After all, a master like him would hardly deign to accept aid from other Buddhist schools for construction.
But Yuan Ci told me that the old monk was loaded with money, all of it deposited in the bank. The interest alone was enough to cover his daily expenses.
Actually, it was easy to tell just by considering the expenses of these mystic cultivators. The disciples certainly wouldn't understand, but how could the abbot not? Purchasing magical artifacts and all kinds of supplies was no small expense. It was simply something the disciples couldn't be allowed to know, lest they develop ulterior motives and lose the temperament for ascetic cultivation.
"Come back from the dead?" Yuan Ci frowned and strode forward decisively. He drew a circle over the alms bowl in his hands, then began chanting an incantation. Yet a long, gloomy sigh still drifted out from inside, startling him. "This isn't coming back from the dead at all!"
I found it strange as well, so I followed Yuan Ci into the courtyard, only to discover that Divine Monk Fuhai had already risen to his feet. He was twisting his limbs about. When I looked at his body, I found that all its vitality had vanished, leaving only his soul behind. "Divine Monk Fuhai?"