Stolen Fortune

The kasaya was placed on a high shelf, Jingshui, wearing only a thin white monk's robe, quietly turned the pages of the scripture in his hands.

During this time, an elder from Buddha Sound Temple came to talk to him for a while, offering words of encouragement such as "Do your best in tomorrow's final" and "It doesn't matter if you lose."

As the elder prepared to take his leave, he concluded his speech.

Jingshui suddenly asked, "Elder, do you know whose fortune is as crimson as blood, and also carries a strong sense of malevolence?"

This was something that had troubled Jingshui for many days, and he finally couldn't help but ask about it today.

He thought it was just a simple question, but the elder in front of him instantly changed his expression. "Where did you see such a thing?!"

Jingshui's eyelashes fluttered, and she memorized the word "thing": "This disciple has only seen it in a book, and asked this question because I was puzzled."

As he answered, he silently berated himself. A Buddhist should not lie, but for some reason, he didn't want to say it aloud.

He felt that exposing the matter prematurely would bring even greater trouble to Buddha Sound Temple.

Fortunately, the elder did not investigate further. He always trusted this disciple. "This is not good fortune, but nothing but karmic retribution! Someone used tricks to steal the fortune of others, causing the fortune that represents the blessings of Heavenly Dao to be tainted with evil and become like that."

The elder sighed, his expression growing increasingly serious. "Jingshui, you must remember this: fortune is fleeting and unpredictable. We cultivators only need to focus on our practice and must never get involved with such things. What you gain through your own efforts is far more reliable than relying on illusory fortune."

This has nothing to do with Buddhist teachings; it's simply a matter of one's own mind.

He didn't want to see this Buddhist disciple, who had been waiting for so long, destroyed by such a thing, which is why he gave such earnest instructions.

Jingshui suppressed her surprise and doubt and earnestly agreed to the elder's words.

After seeing the elder off, Jingshui couldn't help but recall the scene of Sang Ying's battle with Su Fuyun that day.

After the veiled white-robed female cultivator was trapped in the ice, he personally witnessed several wisps of crimson-red aura emerging from her mind, breaking through the thick ice bit by bit, and even helping her escape from the female sword cultivator's grasp.

And those energies were all grotesque and bizarre, even carrying Sha Qi.

Jingshui closed her eyes and softly recited a Buddhist chant.

This competition is probably not going to be peaceful at all. He thought to himself.

Casting aside all distractions, Jingshui quickly entered a state of cultivation. After all, if she wasn't strong enough, she probably wouldn't be able to escape unscathed from this competition.

Meanwhile, some trouble also broke out in the courtyard where the Mara Gate disciples were staying.

Because their courtyard wasn't big enough and they had brought a large number of disciples, at least three or four people had to be crammed into each room.

However, when there are many people, conflicts are more likely to arise.

The same applies to the room where Jing He is. However, this conflict is not directed at anyone else, but solely at him.

The story begins with a bottle of top-grade pills, which his mother went to great lengths to buy from a high-level Alchemist. It was said to have the effect of healing Spirit Root.

Jing He treasured the pills dearly, carrying them with him all day long, even sleeping with them by his side. But even so, the pills still disappeared.

He hadn't suspected his roommate at first, just thinking he'd dropped it somewhere. But after searching around, he found the empty bottle under the bed opposite his.

Naturally, Jing He couldn't hold back his temper and started arguing with his fellow disciples.

This argument instantly shattered the facade of peace that had been maintained among them.

"So what if I took the pills? What would a cripple like you do with such precious pills? You couldn't even win the preliminary rounds of the individual competition, while the rest of us made it to the finals!"

"Instead of leaving top-grade pills to a piece of trash like you, it's better to give them to us disciples who can bring benefits to the sect."

"You still want to inform the elders? Do you think they'll help you? A Foundation Establishment Realm waste who was abandoned by Ten Thousand Daos Born and almost couldn't even enter a sect?"

The sarcastic yet genuine remarks instantly extinguished Jing He's initial rage.

Yes, how could he forget that his Spirit Root was abnormal, and his cultivation level had long since dropped from the Golden Core stage to the Foundation Establishment, and he probably wouldn't make any further progress in this lifetime.

Jing He was also unclear about when the problem arose with his Spirit Root. Back then, he Ten Thousand Daos Born, which had ruined the plans of the Mara Gate.

His family went to great lengths to barely get him accepted, because after that incident, no other major sect besides the Mara Gate would take him in.

Jing He originally thought that once he entered the Mara Gate, everything would be over.

But soon, the sect leader summoned him and took him to see the sect's holy maiden.

He had a lukewarm impression of the saintess; the aloofness she subtly exuded made him uncomfortable.

However, he never expected that the seemingly arrogant saintess would give him Law Artifact.

But later, after careful reflection, Jing He realized that all his misfortunes seemed to have started from obtaining that Law Artifact.

First, during the inner sect competition, his natal magic Law Artifact suddenly broke, causing him to lose the competition and get injured.

Not long after, he noticed something was wrong with his Spirit Root. Not only did his cultivation level plummet, but he was also diagnosed as never being able to escape the Foundation Establishment Realm his lifetime.

"What, judging from your expression, you're still resentful?" The person who had taken the Jing He Elixir looked down at him condescendingly, as if he were a dog.

Jing He wiped the blood from his lips, endured the pain, and got up from the ground.

Looking at the arrogance on his fellow disciples' faces, Jing He seemed to see his former self.

"I have no resentment, and I won't go to the elders." After being reminded by the other party, Jing He also realized that the other party was a genius with Single Spirit Root, and their future was no different from his own in the past.

He could guess how much mistreatment he would suffer now based on the amount of preferential treatment he had received in the past.

Although he didn't know where the leader of the Mara Gate had found this group of Single Spirit Root of varying quality, Jing He was very clear that with this group of exceptionally talented young cultivators, the future of the Immortal Spirit Realm would definitely belong to the Mara Gate.

He couldn't afford to anger Mara Gate, even if the elixir the other party took might be his only hope, even if that bottle of elixir might have been bought with all of his parents' savings.

Seeing that Jing He had finally given in, the leading disciple calmed down.

"That's right, what are you messing around with? Only when we're doing well will you have a good life, right?" The male cultivator raised his hand and patted Jing He's face, seemingly enjoying the feeling of trampling this former prodigy under his feet.

Jing He closed his eyes to suppress his anger; he could almost hear the sound of his pride breaking inch by inch.

"Alright, we're going to sleep now. Go and tidy up the bed. Look at the mess you've made of the room!" the male cultivator said.

Jing He pursed his lips, but in the end he still bent down and picked up the other person's bedding, even though they had messed it up themselves, he still did as they asked.

At that moment, Jing He knew clearly that he had lost something very important, and that thing might never be returned.

A note from the author:

I, the sparrow who gets up at midnight every day, am back again!

Love you all, see you tomorrow~