Southern Shaolin.
Xuanjie stood before Abbot Xuanci, his face filled with righteous indignation. "Abbot, these rumors are growing worse and worse. Many people from the Jianghu have come. You must explain yourself publicly, or it won't just affect your good name, but Southern Shaolin as well."
Xuanci listened in silence as his junior brother Xuanjie repeated the rumors circulating in the Jianghu.
Many people might have thought those reports were slander and rumors, but he knew they were true.
"Amitabha. This is my karma. I should go before the Buddha to atone for my sins, lest Southern Shaolin's thousand-year reputation be ruined at my hands."
Although Xuzhu was extraordinarily ugly, having inherited all the shortcomings of both him and Ye Erniang, there was still a trace of resemblance around his eyes and brows.
Last night, he had actually slipped out of Southern Shaolin to meet Ye Erniang and learned of the marks on his son's body: twenty-seven incense scars across his buttocks and back.
Ye Erniang wanted to shoulder everything herself, but this time, she could not bear the burden.
Someone in the Jianghu was clearly fanning the flames. They wanted to destroy not only his reputation, but Southern Shaolin's as well.
That single lapse in judgment all those years ago had, in the end, been his mistake.
"Junior brother, summon Xuzhu. I wish to question him personally about Chessboard Mountain."
An hour later, Xuzhu's heart-rending cry suddenly rang out from Xuanci's room. "Abbot! Someone, come quickly! Save the Abbot!"
Xuanci had killed himself, plunging a candlestick into his own heart.
But as he fell, his eyes remained fixed on Xuzhu.
Hopefully, after receiving all the true qi I passed on to him, this child can escape this calamity. It can count as compensation from a father to his son.