The heartland of the Central Plains, south of the Zhang River.
Nestled among the mountains was an unnamed wild shrine.
The deity enshrined within was a clay statue of the Mountain Lord. Its face was ferocious, yet incense burned in abundance.
Half a month ago, Buddha Face had relied on scattered statues and paintings, traveling by twists and turns until it finally escaped here.
With the offerings of the mountain villagers from ten li in every direction, it had finally stabilized its form, which had been on the verge of dispersing.
But that was all.
Most of the power it had brought into this realm had been used to lay arrangements in Wuzhen. By now, it had vanished completely, as though gnawed away by dogs.
The small remainder had been used to mend and strengthen Min Zimo's physical body.
Yet now, all that effort had amounted to drawing water with a bamboo basket.
The little power it had left still had to maintain its own existence.
Now, it could only consume ownerless Wish power to survive. It no longer had even the ability to develop or control new believers.
The night was as dark as ink. The Mountain Lord Temple had fallen into utter silence, and even its only temple attendant had gone down the mountain to seek amusement.
At that moment, the clay statue of the Mountain Lord suddenly began to tremble faintly.
An extraordinary Buddha Face, with delicate features and a sorrowfully compassionate expression, emerged from the Mountain Lord's brow.
Its face, cold as a stone carving, revealed no emotion.
It simply floated there in silence for a long while. At last, it made up its mind.
That beautiful sandalwood-colored mouth parted slightly and spat out a crystal-clear blood bead, red as a ruby.
If Min Zimo had