"Ghosts!"
Inside Shansheng Hall, a scream echoed.
Monk Qingyu, clutching his badly gashed head, ran out.
Behind him, the Ancient Bronze Sword closely followed, thrusting and chopping, aiming straight for his bald pate.
Outside Shansheng Hall, the pilgrims were also frightened out of their wits, scurrying away with hands over their heads.
"Soone, co quick!"
Monk Qingyu sprinted frantically.
"Keep shouting, tear your throat out if you have to, might as well call over the several thousand pilgrims outside and everyone else from the temple."
A light, floating voice ca from the side.
Monk Qingyu startled, turned his head, and saw that young girl from earlier squatting nearby, looking utterly relaxed, watching him being chased all over by the bronze sword.
It was thanks to this young girl’s reminder that Monk Qingyu suddenly ca back to his senses.
He exploited the incense-burning days, filled his own pockets, and under the guise of transcendence, extorted and defrauded the town’s citizens—all unbeknownst to Minister of Imperial Sacrificial Worship and his colleagues in the temple.
Before, he had only been performing normal Buddhist ceremonies and never encountered any trouble. Who would have thought that today he would co across such a haunted, broken sword.
During this mont of hesitation, the sword whooshed past, closely shaving a piece of skin from the monk’s forehead.
"Leave, leave! This has nothing to do with you!"
Monk Qingyu, holding his forehead, signaled the martial monks who had co in response to retreat.
He bore the pain bravely.
"Little benefactor, this poor monk is incompetent. I cannot transcend this sword. Please seek soone more skilled. Here, take back these nine thousand taels."
Saying so, and with a pained expression, he returned the silver note that he had gotten his hands on.
"Nine thousand taels? We clearly gave you eighteen thousand taels."
Xin Lin did not take the silver note, but glanced at Monk Qingyu.
Her money wasn’t easy to take.
She knew the size of one’s capabilities should match the size of their claims.
The nine Yin Sha spirits within the Ancient Bronze Sword were not to be trifled with.
Xin Lin had dealt with them and knew their temperants well.
In front of the Pride Corpse, they acted as docile as sons, but in front of anyone else, they were as imperious as emperors.
Monk Qingyu, at first glance, was nothing but a swindling, deceitful monk. Xin Lin was sure that the Yin Sha wouldn’t let him off.
And as expected, he received his couppance.
The corners of Monk Qingyu’s eyes twitched.
"The little benefactor is right, I rembered it wrong."
With great reluctance visible on his face, he counted out another nine silver notes, totaling eighteen thousand taels to Xin Lin.
Xin Lin, without any hesitation, returned nine thousand taels to Ma Jingtian.
Ma Jingtian looked equally terrified. Through this transaction, without even lifting a finger, the amount of money had doubled just within the ti it took to drink a cup of tea!
Little Boss is truly a divine being!
However, even as Xin Lin claid the silver, the Ancient Bronze Sword continued to dart about, whooshing over Monk Qingyu’s forehead. He pleaded,
"Little benefactor, what about the sword?"
Xin Lin raised a hand, and the Ancient Sword landed in her grasp.
Monk Qingyu had just breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet, he felt a chill on his neck; Xin Lin swung the sword in reverse, and the blade rested against his throat.
"Swords know no rcy. I may have spared you, but the Yin Sha on this sword hasn’t agreed to let you go. If you want to save your life, tell , who within Taichang Temple can transcend the Yin Sha?"
Xin Lin asked coldly.
She couldn’t be bothered to investigate further; she simply went straight to the source to find out who had the ability.
"This poor monk does not possess such skills, but Lord Taichang can transcend them! Lord Taichang hails from the Taichang Holy Institute and is extraordinarily powerful. His residence is at Zhongji Courtyard, towards the southeast."
Monk Qingyu shivered in fear, spilling everything.
User Comments
0 comments from readers