A Fortuitous Coincidence

After leaving the Five Views Hall, there was a winding wooden corridor with green tiles overhead, red wooden pillars one after another, and blue-gold cloud patterns and guardian deity statues under the eaves, adding a touch of refinement to it.

In the eyes of the many monks and worshippers, the most accomplished senior monk of Taian Temple, Master Guanghong, was walking slowly side by side with a young man in an old robe. But what was surprising was that Master Guanghong, who was usually always calm and composed, now looked somewhat unwell, even trembling slightly. Looking at the young man, on the other hand, he was smiling calmly and speaking with Master Guanghong.

"The paper from Wu Ji Paper Shop is quite good to use."

"You... found me through it?"

"More or less."

"So many people buy paper from Wu Ji Paper Shop every day—how did you determine it was me?"

"Wu Ji Paper Shop had a batch of paper where a child accidentally spilled cloth dye into it, making the paper slightly reddish. Did the master notice?"

"How do you know?"

Master Guanghong's face had already turned pale.

To be honest, he really hadn't noticed.

"The master and I happened to buy from that same batch. And that batch wasn't produced much. I asked the shopkeeper—during that time, only about a dozen people came to buy Yellow Hemp Paper, and only a few bought large sheets of Yellow Hemp Paper. The shopkeeper knew and could remember only three of them."

"Did you go find them one by one?"

"This Humble One is very patient," Song You said. "But even without the Yellow Hemp Paper, the master sent a minor spirit to visit me last night. With just that minor spirit, I could have completely traced my way to the master here."

"..."

Master Guanghong reached his hand into his sleeve.

Hidden in both sleeves were several rolled-up Bow Soldier Generals, which he could summon with a wave of his hand. But recalling how the two Yakshas from that night had been extinguished without a sound, he dared not act rashly.

"I wonder how you broke my Yaksha technique?"

"This Humble One is skilled in fire techniques."

"..."

Master Guanghong's face instantly turned deathly pale.

"What do you intend to do?"

"The master has been at Taian Temple for many years, with both cultivation and skill—why be so flustered?" Song You smiled, then asked, "Since the master knows the art of paper Yakshas, I wonder if you have the method for Paper Horses and Paper Donkeys?"

"Paper Horses and Paper Donkeys?"

"Indeed."

"If I do, what then? If I don't, what then?"

"If you do, I would like to learn from the master."

"And if I don't?"

It seemed there was none.

Song You showed a look of regret.

He had thought that since this monk had the art of paper Yakshas, he might also learn the method of Paper Horses from him, saving himself a lot of effort and enriching Fulong Temple's spell library in the future. In that case, sparing his life would not have been impossible.

A pity.

Then it came down to reciprocity.

But still—my being able to break your technique is my skill. Whether you have the skill to deal with me is your own problem.

Song You then answered Master Guanghong's earlier question: "The master is a man of Buddhism, who should be filled with kindness and compassion. Yet the master used others' hands to brazenly steal treasures throughout the city, and when your earth-tunneling method was broken, you bore a grudge and sent Yakshas to harm me. It's hard to call you a true Buddhist... I'm curious—facing these golden Buddha statues every day, don't you feel a pang of conscience?"

"Conscience?" Master Guanghong forced his courage. "They're just clay statues. You and I both know—the Buddha is not here, nor are the Bodhisattvas."

"True."

Song You nodded.

Buddha and deity statues are all cast from clay—ears cannot hear, eyes cannot see. Even if they could manifest, the world is vast, and the gods' energy is limited—how could they know everything happening before every statue?

"But it's just that no one has reported it."

"What do you mean?"

Song You did not answer. He only glanced at the couplet on the door, then clasped his hands to Master Guanghong in a bow:

"Master, take care."

"?"

Master Guanghong frowned, watching his back as he walked away.

Just leaving like that? Or was he playing some trick?

When he came to his senses, he turned his head and realized they had already reached the entrance of the Ten Thousand Buddha Hall.

Light seeped through gaps in the hall's tiled roof, thin beams falling from above, cutting through the thick incense smoke inside, outlining clear shapes on the floor, the altar, and the golden bodies. Master Guanghong was startled to find that the familiar golden Buddha statues had all seemed to change.

Except for the Lord of Ten Thousand Buddhas in the center, still with lowered eyes and solemn countenance, the other Bodhisattvas—whether kind-eyed or compassionate—all seemed to be looking at him.

Most terrifying of all were the guardian deities.

Their eyes were already wide with fury, and now they all seemed to be glaring straight at him.

Master Guanghong, in shock and terror, felt his heart pounding wildly. In a daze, the sound seemed to become drumbeats—thump, thump, thump—and with each beat, the wrathful, wide-eyed faces of the Dharma Protectors grew larger in his vision, drawing closer to him.

In just a few breaths, those faces were right before him, majestic and fearsome, as if interrogating him about every evil deed he had ever committed in his life.

The murmured chanting of sutras entered his ears.

The scriptures he usually recited, the Buddhist truths he had barely heeded, all surged up from the depths of his heart.

Was this right?

Was this right?

Had he broken the precepts?

Had he found peace of mind?

He felt a blazing fire in his chest. At first, it was just an itchy heat that made him want to scratch, but soon it grew hotter and hotter. The scorching sensation rose from his heart, spreading outward, burning his entire body unbearably.

"Ah!!"

Master Guanghong couldn't help but cry out.

Many monks, worshippers, and even martial artists lodging at the temple rushed over at the sound.

But all they saw was the revered Master Guanghong, flames erupting from within him, rolling on the ground in agony, his face twisted in pain.

He shouted loudly:

"This humble monk has sinned!

"This humble monk admits his wrongs!

"Buddha, spare my life!"

No matter how he screamed, the fire did not stop.

And strangely, the flames only burned his flesh, not his robes. It was as if Master Guanghong had been coated in oil, the fire blazing fiercely. In just a few snaps of the fingers, nothing remained before the hall but a set of robes.

Everyone present was horrified beyond words.

Someone had earlier seen Master Guanghong walking side by side with a young worshipper and quickly searched for that young man's figure. They saw, toward the mountain gate, a person with a three-flower cat trotting behind him in small steps, just reaching the temple entrance, already growing distant.

The three-flower cat stopped and looked back.

Song You walked back to Tianshui Lane and happened to run into Constable Luo. Hearing that Constable Luo was looking for him, he invited him into the courtyard.

"Sir, the wall of your home was severely damaged last night. Did you encounter danger?"

"It's nothing."

Song You waved his hand with a smile and, before Constable Luo could continue his concern, asked first, "How is the interrogation of that Earth-Diving Thief going?"

Constable Luo's eyes flickered.

Although he didn't know whether the intruder who broke into the courtyard last night was human, ghost, or demon, just from the marks left on the wall and eaves, it was enough to make his heart tremble. Yet the Mister Song before him seemed utterly unconcerned. Looking at the courtyard, there was no sign of a struggle or destruction at all.

Had there been no fight?

Or was this how high-level cultivators clashed?

Or perhaps...

While his mind speculated, Constable Luo's mouth answered: "We've been interrogating him these past few days, and we've recovered some of the stolen goods. But here's the strange part—the items we've retrieved are all gold, silver, jewelry, antiques, and paintings. As for the rare medicinal herbs privately hoarded by the noble households, none have been found. The thief claims he ate them all to cultivate his Earth-Diving Art."

Constable Luo paused, then looked at Song You again: "I'm not well-versed in this area, Squad Leader. I wonder if cultivators truly..."

"What herbs were there?"

"Thousand-year Ganoderma lucidum, centuries-old wild ginseng, top-grade dragon bone—things like that, all aged herbs."

"Absolutely impossible."

"Then the thief must have hidden them, or..." Constable Luo paused again, then shifted to another topic, "Besides questioning him about the stolen goods, we also asked where he learned the Earth-Diving Art. He said he found an ancient book among his grandfather's belongings."

With each sentence, Constable Luo trailed off, glancing at Song You.

Whether cultivators needed so many precious herbs, whether they could consume that many in a short time, whether one could self-study cultivation—these were all blind spots for an ordinary constable. But wasn't there a master right in front of him?

Before, it was fine, but after seeing the damaged wall at Mister Song's place this morning, he had a rough idea. There was likely someone behind that thief.

Last night, that person behind the thief had probably come to settle a score.

Song You understood that Constable Luo was consulting him.

Though the Earth-Diving Art had its flaws, it was not simple; on the contrary, it had many remarkable aspects. For an ordinary person without a foundation to comprehend it on their own, progress would be extremely slow, and danger was likely during practice.

But Song You didn't need to tell him all that.

"Coincidentally, I went to Taian Temple today and witnessed a strange event. I'd like to share it with you, Squad Leader."

"Oh?"

Constable Luo was taken aback but still cupped his hands:

"I'd be glad to hear it."

"That Master Guanghong you once consulted spontaneously combusted from inner fire in front of the Ten Thousand Buddha Hall at noon today. He loudly begged the Buddha for forgiveness and mercy, but in just a short while, the fire burned him clean away—not even ashes remained." Song You smiled. "So, people truly must not commit wrongdoing. Why not tell this story to the thief in prison? It might move him."

"!"

Constable Luo's eyes flew wide, his mind racing wildly.

After a long moment, he abruptly stood up, then cupped his hands to Song You once more. "Luo understands now. Many thanks for your guidance, Mister."

"You're welcome."

"Luo still has official duties to attend to, so I'll take my leave now."

"Go slowly."

Constable Luo turned and strode out, his steps swift and urgent, yet a sharp gleam shone in his eyes.

In an instant, he recalled the scene a month ago when he had gone to Taian Temple to seek advice, and the reputedly true cultivator Master Guanghong had devised the dung-burying scheme for him. In the next flash, he remembered the city's nobles and even many in the yamen going to Taian Temple to burn incense and worship, conversing with Master Guanghong.

No wonder someone had attacked Mister Song by night.

No wonder the one behind that thief had learned so quickly that Mister Song had a hand in this matter.

No wonder every crime was so precisely executed.

No wonder...

Constable Luo had long known that Mister Song was a true master, and that coming to consult him would yield results, but he had never imagined the harvest would be so great.

As he thought this, he suddenly gritted his teeth—

That Bald Donkey had dared to toy with him like this! If not for Mister Song's guidance, he would have remained in the dark forever, while that Bald Donkey continued to roam free, still a guest of honor among the city's nobles!

And correspondingly, he found the Mister Song across the diagonal alley more unfathomable than ever.