"Very well. Once you have made your decision, tell me at any time. Take this Hengshun Bell for now and keep it yourself!"
Meng Zhao nodded, then looked up at the top of the bell tower. He reached forward with his right hand, and the Hengshun Bell hanging in the center of the pavilion let out an exceptionally deep, resounding chime. With a hum, it shattered the rope suspending it from the bell tower. Spinning through the air, it rose up and fell toward Meng Zhao.
From such a height, with such a massive bronze bell, the plunging impact of its fall could not be underestimated. Yet Meng Zhao did not care in the slightest. Instead, a smile touched his lips.
The spinning Hengshun Bell grew smaller the closer it came to Meng Zhao. By the time it reached him, the entire bell was no bigger than his little finger, landing gently in the palm of his right hand.
"A fine treasure, a fine treasure indeed. No wonder the master could not let this treasure go and wished to restore its spirituality to its peak state."
Under the insight of Meng Zhao's Primordial Spirit, he saw that as the Hengshun Bell shrank, some of the Sanskrit inscriptions carved upon it emitted faint golden radiance. Clearly, this had triggered some divine ability inherent to the Hengshun Bell itself.
It was impossible to know whether the Hengshun Bell's remaining sliver of spirituality had seized this sole opportunity to operate on its own, or whether the Primordial Spirit Seed Monk Huikong had left inside the bell was responsible.
After putting away the Hengshun Bell, Monk Huikong seemed to be in an excellent mood. He immediately invited Meng Zhao to visit the Buddhist hall in the temple's rear mountain. At the end of their