Gao Zhan's stoic expression faltered briefly at Jian Xiaolou's insult.
His brows knitted as he replied earnestly, "My maternal grandmother passed away 9,560 years ago. Such jokes are inappropriate."
"Who's joking with you?" Jian Xiaolou was speechless. "If you're sick, go take your medicine!"
"Amitabha," Gao Zhan—or whoever was controlling him—intoned, pressing his palms together solemnly. "I have practiced demonic cultivation for 3,000 years and Zen for 5,000. Now I have achieved the indestructible golden body, transcending worldly afflictions and the cycle of karma."
His tone turned resolute. "Moreover, I am of the Zen sect and do not take Daoist elixirs."
"..."
Was Gao Zhan some sort of part-time lunatic?
Watching his serious demeanor, Jian Xiaolou grew increasingly uneasy. One moment he was speaking rationally, and the next, spouting nonsense. The abrupt shifts were too much—was he possessed?
If something could seize a person's mind so quickly, what kind of monstrous being could it be?
A chill ran down her spine as the thought took hold. Her eyes darted around, scanning for help, but they were in a desolate mountain pass between the outer and inner sects. Not even a guard was nearby. If he devoured her here, no one would know.
Without a word, Jian Xiaolou turned to leave, walking at first but breaking into a run.
Behind her, "Gao Zhan" followed with hurried but unruffled steps. "Why are you running, my disciple? My words are not yet finished. My heavenly soul has left my body, and while possessing another, I cannot use my powers or stray far from the Wind-Fire Fan…"
The Wind-Fire Fan?
Jian Xiaolou stopped dead, lightning striking her brain. So the entity possessing Gao Zhan had come from the fan?
"You're the strange monk who gave me that fan at dusk!"
"The one who gifted you the fan was Fazhen, the 19th-generation disciple of Kasyapa Temple sent to find you. By seniority, you should address me as your Grandmaster Uncle..." He paused. "Ah, I forgot to introduce myself. My Dharma name is Zen—"
"Zen your granny! Go to hell, you old monster!"
Realizing he truly had no powers in his current state, Jian Xiaolou slapped a Swift Travel Talisman onto her leg and leaped over several boulders. Retrieving the fan from her storage bag, she swung her arm like a discus thrower and hurled it over the cliff.
The possession paused for the first time, a rare flicker of astonishment crossing "Gao Zhan's" face. "You…"
In a flash, a streak of white light emerged from Gao Zhan's spiritual platform and was sucked back into the falling Wind-Fire Fan.
Gao Zhan shuddered and regained consciousness, his voice trembling with confusion. "Junior Sister Jian, what just happened?!"
Jian Xiaolou had no intention of explaining and, with an icy glare, turned back to her peak.
Back at her private quarters on Tianbao Peak, Jian Xiaolou found her accommodations greatly improved compared to her time in the outer sect. Yet that night, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Would that old monster come looking for her again?
The name Kasyapa Temple and its association with a "half-step golden body" haunted her thoughts.
No way. He was clearly a ghost cultivator!
High-level cultivators could detach their souls, yes, but only ghost cultivators could possess others without a formal body-snatching ritual.
Her mind drifted to a childhood memory: at five years old, she had once encountered a female ghost cultivator who inhabited a toilet and nearly possessed her.
The trauma left a lasting impression. To her, ghost cultivators were terrifying and tenacious—nothing like the noble remnants of great masters sealed in artifacts, as described in novels.
Three months passed without any sign of the ghost monk, and Jian Xiaolou began to relax.
As for Li Jianzhao, Jian Xiaolou taught him forging techniques diligently, hoping to rid herself of him as soon as possible.
Though prone to bursts of temper, the bully surprisingly took his studies seriously. Unfortunately, he had zero talent for artifact refining. Watching him repeatedly cause explosions while melting iron was an eye-opener for her.
Her greatest gain, however, was from working under Yue Ze. His mentorship allowed her to learn invaluable skills, and with his deliberate guidance, her progress was remarkable.
Gradually, Jian Xiaolou noticed her treatment within the sect polarizing. Some showered her with flattery, while others—mostly female cultivators—began to sabotage her, treating her as a romantic rival.
The sect's fixation on Yue Ze's popularity puzzled her. If anyone deserved their jealousy, shouldn't it be Jin He, Yue Ze's apprentice of five years?
"You're daydreaming again," Yue Ze's reprimand broke her thoughts. His displeased gaze bore into her. "Artifact refinement requires undivided focus."
Jian Xiaolou lowered her head. "It won't happen again."
Yue Ze sighed and flicked his sleeves. "In four months, the triennial artifact refiners' ranking exam will take place. I've entered your name."
Jian Xiaolou froze. "Understood."
"You'd better not embarrass me." Yue Ze cast her a sidelong glance, irritation simmering beneath his calm demeanor. "I've also entered that wretch Li Jianzhao. He'll surely make a scene. If you fail too, my reputation as an artifact prodigy will become the laughingstock of all Eastern Immortal Continent."
"Li Gongzi isn't even from our sect. Why is he participating in a sect exam?"
"You've been here nearly a year and still don't know this?" Yue Ze seemed surprised, then explained, "The ranking exam is open to all, including rogue cultivators. Our sect merely administers the tests for the Yunzhou region."
Jian Xiaolou listened attentively—it was news to her.
Just then, Jin He entered, reporting with a chuckle, "Senior Brother Yue, something strange happened this morning. Li Gongzi went to investigate."
"What happened?" Yue Ze asked, intrigued.
Jin He replied, "At the bottom of the Thousand-Fathom Cliff, there's a stream where a herd of silly deer-like beasts lives. This morning, one of them climbed up from the cliff, its claws mangled and bloody, barely alive. It was carrying a low-grade Wind-Fire Fan in its mouth…"
Boom!
Jian Xiaolou froze, struck by a thunderclap. He made it back up?!
Yue Ze, intrigued, asked, "Where is the beast now? Bring it here."
Jin He shook her head. "Li Gongzi took it, saying he'd cook it for soup."
Yue Ze's face darkened immediately.
Meanwhile, Jian Xiaolou's heart pounded like a drum. She hesitated before blurting out, "Senior Brother Yue, where is Kasyapa Temple?"
Yue Ze blinked, surprised by the abrupt change in topic. "It's the foremost Zen temple of the Southern Spirit Continent, near the Chaos Sea in the far south."
"Does Kasyapa Temple have a monk who practiced demonic cultivation for 3,000 years, Zen for 5,000, and achieved the golden body?"
Yue Ze's expression turned serious. "Are you referring to the Zen Sword Buddha?"
Jian Xiaolou whispered, "The Zen Sword Buddha?"
Yue Ze nodded slowly. "A legendary figure. Once one of the Four Demon Generals under the Demon Saint of the Mad Demon Island, he was unmatched with his broken sword. He was eventually captured by Zen Master Liaoyuan and imprisoned for 300 years in the Subduing Demon Pagoda. After his enlightenment, he abandoned the demonic path for Zen."
Jin He interjected, "Is he stronger than our Heavenly Alliance Leader?"
Yue Ze smirked faintly. "They're not even in the same league."
Jian Xiaolou's thoughts swirled. If the erratic monk truly was the Zen Sword Buddha, his abilities to possess others made a twisted sort of sense. But why would someone of his stature leave his temple to take her as a disciple?
That night, Jian Xiaolou locked herself in her room and activated protective wards. But at midnight, she heard a feeble voice outside her door.
"Disciple, open the door. It is I, your master."
Her legs gave out as she nearly sobbed, "Master, I beg you, please go back to wherever you came from. I'll burn incense for you on holidays, I swear!"
Ignoring her plea, "Gao Zhan" took out a jade token, dispelled her wards, and entered uninvited. Closing the door behind him, he sat cross-legged on her meditation mat without a word.
Jian Xiaolou cowered in the corner, trembling.
"My Dharma name is Chan Lingzi," he began. "Perhaps you know me better as the Zen Sword Buddha."
"You're really…"
"Yes."
Chan Lingzi, learning from his earlier mistake, preempted her. "You must wonder why I insist on