"I have a good friend named Guang Yin, a counterfeit monk who indulges in eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling. Whenever someone in the city dies, he slips on his monk's robe, chants sutras, and prays in front of their house to earn some merit money. With his glib tongue, he sometimes even manages to perform funerary services, living quite comfortably.
"But half a month ago, he went mad for some reason and ran off to Crouching Tiger Hill to conduct a ceremony for a gang of bandits and hasn't come back since. I wonder if you two masters could help me look for him; if he's alive, I'd be troubled if you brought him back to the city, but if he's dead, please just send me a message."
"Crouching Tiger Hill?" Gu Qingyi was taken aback upon hearing this and was about to accept the request outright.
Unexpectedly, Ma Lu next to her interrupted first, "Crouching Tiger Hill is a den of bandits, you know. I heard there are several gangs there."
