Black Curtain! I Want to Report the Black Curtain!

"Damn it!"

Zhu Yuanzhang let out a thunderous roar.

Without a moment's hesitation, he chose [Start Over].

The cold-blooded Tibetan monk Yang Lianzhenjia!

The Imperial Awakening Temple, caught in a web of complex schemes!

The internal factional strife within the Great Yuan court!

The struggle for the throne among the imperial heirs, each vying for the mandate of heaven!

And those two treacherous, sinister monks, Mingguang and Minghui! They actually dared to scheme to refine him, a dignified transmigrator, into a human vessel to compensate for the missing destiny of Crown Prince Zhenjin!

What kind of hellish place is this?!

Is this even the Great Yuan?

"Choose one at random. Choose correctly, and your life force shall replenish Crown Prince Zhenjin; choose incorrectly..."

Opening his eyes once more, Zhu Yuanzhang did not wait for Minghui to finish; he reached out his hand toward the Kapala Bowl before him without a shred of hesitation.

"?"

Zhu Yuanzhang heard the ethereal voice that Minghui had transformed into let out a surprised hum.

However, Zhu Yuanzhang had no time to pay attention to this easily startled old monk.

He flipped over the bone tile.

"White Wax Gold."

The ethereal voice beside his ear turned joyful.

Zhu Yuanzhang's vision went black.

[You have died.]

"Again!"

[Start Over]

"Choose one at random. Choose correctly..."

Zhu Yuanzhang flipped over the bone tile.

"Gold in Sand."

[You have died.]

"Again!"

"Choose one at ran..."

"Sword Edge Gold."

[You have died.]

"Again!"

"Choose one at..."

"Hairpin Gold."

[You have died.]

"Again!"

After repeating this process more times than he could count.

"Choo..."

Zhu Yuanzhang reached out without hesitation to touch the bone tile at the very center.

He had a faint premonition.

This time, he would surely defy the heavens and change his fate.

At first, upon seeing the six bone tiles, Zhu Yuanzhang had intended to pass by memorizing the positions of the tiles he had already touched.

But, in the same position, what was "Gold in the Sea" the last time had become "White Wax Gold" the next.

"Rigged! This is fucking rigged!"

Yet, after being cheated so many times, Zhu Yuanzhang looked at the six bone tiles before him, his heart hardening with resolve.

He was going to lock horns with this thing.

He had already used countless [Start Over] attempts to prove that all five types of Gold destiny were hidden among them.

In other words, one of the bone tiles must represent "Life."

The probability is 1/6—no, it is far lower than that.

If the probability were truly as high as 1/6, he would not have died dozens of times without ever drawing a bone tile other than the Gold Fate.

Darkness churned beneath the feet of Zhu Yuanzhang.

But Zhu Yuanzhang, long since familiar with everything here, remained completely unaware.

His state of mind was as still as a deep, ancient well.

He reached his hand into the Kapala Bowl suspended in mid-air before him.

He made his selection and flipped over the jade tile.

[Great Ocean Water]

"Sigh..."

A sigh echoed from all directions.

Zhu Yuanzhang felt his mood inexplicably lighten.

A premonition rose within his heart.

He had survived.

"It seems Crown Prince Zhenjin truly lacks the destiny of an emperor."

With these words, the surrounding light suddenly returned to normal.

Before him lay the dim Mahavira Hall once more, along with the hideous blood-man formed from countless blood-worms, and the mummified corpse seated atop the lotus throne.

Seeing that Zhu Yuanzhang had survived, a flicker of complex emotion passed through the corpse's pure black eyes, which were the size of grape seeds.

"Minghe."

"This disciple is here."

"Envious of my good luck? I traded my life for it!"

Zhu Yuanzhang took a step forward, pressed his palms together, and kept his gaze fixed on the ground as he replied.

"Are you willing to join my lineage and study the Maitreya Descends Sutra?"

Maitreya Descends Sutra?

Zhu Yuanzhang felt inexplicably that the name of this scripture sounded somewhat familiar.

He looked again at the hunched, mummified corpse sitting on the white lotus throne.

No matter how he looked at it, this creature had nothing in common with the "prosperous, compassionate, and ever-smiling Maitreya Buddha."

Wait? Hold on!

Maitreya descends? White Lotus?

Wasn't the slogan of the White Lotus Sect, which organized the Red Turban Army uprising at the end of the Yuan Dynasty, "Maitreya descends, the Bright King emerges"?

Are you kidding me, brother?

Zhu Yuanzhang looked at the high monk who had been busy running back and forth to secure the imperial mandate for Crown Prince Zhenjin, a flash of horror crossing his eyes.

So you were actually a rebel all along?

And here I was, taking you for a loyal subject or a secret agent?

"This disciple is willing."

Zhu Yuanzhang hurriedly bowed, fearing the other party might change his mind, and answered.

"Stay in the treasure hall tonight. Only after you have mastered the Maitreya Descends Sutra may you return to your meditation room."

The mummified corpse on the white lotus throne closed its eyes once more.

Behind Zhu Yuanzhang, within the statues of the Buddhas that had previously been blurred by the dim, shadowy light, the clear figure of Maitreya Buddha suddenly appeared.

The golden Maitreya wore a jeweled crown and stood upon a lotus throne, holding the Abhaya Mudra, his solemn and compassionate face smiling down at Zhu Yuanzhang.

This should have been a truly sacred scene.

Yet, combined with the dim lighting of the Mahavira Hall and the blurred, hidden figures of the surrounding Buddhas, there was an inexplicable, eerie quality to Maitreya's smile.

Under the illumination of the Buddha's light, a scripture appeared out of thin air on the lotus throne.

It was none other than the Maitreya Descends Sutra.

Zhu Yuanzhang took the scripture, held it in his hands, flipped to the first page, and read the words aloud in a soft voice.

"Maitreya descends, the Bright King emerges!"

"The Red Yang Kalpa ends, the White Yang shall rise!"

Zhu Yuanzhang narrowed his eyes slightly.

According to his impression of the history of the Red Turban Army uprising at the end of the Yuan Dynasty.

These two sentences were neither supreme true techniques nor Buddhist scriptures.

Rather—

"A slogan for rebellion... or perhaps... a prophecy."

"Have they been preparing for this a hundred years in advance?"

"This is getting more and more interesting."

"What the hell kind of place is this, anyway?"

"It's even darker than those organ-harvesting rings in the industrial parks!"

"Could it be that the prophecy is truly coming to pass..."

Seeing that he could not alter the fate of Crown Prince Zhenjin, a look of sorrow appeared on Yang Lianzhenjia's face as he sighed.

At this moment, as time passed, the skin on his face grew back under the wriggling of the blood worms.

Except for a slightly pale complexion, he looked no different than when he had first entered the temple gates.

For the first time since entering the temple, Yang Lianzhenjia bowed respectfully to Minghui in the manner of a disciple and asked.

"Do the northern barbarians truly lack a hundred years of destiny?"

Hm?

Zhu Yuanzhang, who had just finished reading the Sutra of Maitreya's Descent, pricked up his ears.

Talk about a pillow arriving just as one gets sleepy.

He had just been wondering how the White Lotus Sect—no, rather, how the Buddhist sects of the Han lands had begun their machinations a century in advance.

"The barbarians have no hundred-year destiny."

This was a phrase Zhu Yuanzhang knew from reading the history of the late Yuan Dynasty in his previous life.

In history, this was a statement Zhu Yuanzhang himself had made.

Of course, there was also a theory that it was first proposed in Song Lian's Proclamation to the Central Plains, which the Ming Emperor then successfully borrowed.

However, it no longer mattered who had said it first.

Because the monks of Yinglong Temple had known that the rule of the Great Yuan would not exceed a hundred years ever since Kublai Khan had destroyed the Song and taken control of China.

Moreover, it seemed this was not a secret at all.

Zhu Yuanzhang exhaled softly, closed the Sutra of Maitreya's Descent in his hands, and looked at the calm-faced Master Minghui, thinking to himself.

"The number of heaven has its limits, yet there is never a total end to the hope of men."

Master Minghui lowered his eyes. Inside the Mahavira Hall, the surrounding candles burned fiercely, appearing even brighter than they had just a moment ago.

It seemed the art of life-borrowing had also taken a significant toll on Master Minghui.

"The Borjigin Clan has sat upon the world for ninety years, enjoying the wealth and glory of five full generations—is that not enough?"

Amidst the candlelight, Master Minghui sat upon his lotus throne and spoke in a haunting tone.