On the dark forest path, Li Huowang carried a torch, leading the group forward.
The sky was still pitch black, but the harrowing events earlier had left them wide awake—nobody could even think of sleeping after such a fright.
The donkey cart creaked as it carried several pieces of horse meat carved from the bandits' mounts. Aside from a few scattered silver pieces taken from the bandits' corpses, this was the only loot Li Huowang had salvaged.
"We'll stop here until sunrise. It's not safe to travel at night," Li Huowang ordered. Soon, the torches were stacked together, igniting a new campfire.
"If you can't sleep, at least try to rest. We have a long journey tomorrow. I'll take the first watch."
As the sound of donkey hooves and footsteps faded, the dirt road fell silent once again.
Li Huowang sat by the fire, gazing back at the dark path they had come from. It was completely black—there was no sign of the old beggar, who was likely still burying the dead.
Reflecting on what had just happened, Li Huowang couldn't help but sigh. This place was truly chaotic.
With all the otherworldly dangers already lurking around, humans still found time to harm one another. No camaraderie, no solidarity—just violence and greed.
He used his sword to stir the fading fire, tossing more wood into the flames.
As time crept by, scattered survivors who had fled during the bandit attack began to trickle back toward Li Huowang's campfire. Soon, several smaller fires sprang up nearby.
Among the returnees, however, there was no sign of Lü's troupe. But Li Huowang wasn't worried—they had been the first to flee when the bandits appeared.
Lü Zhuangyuan, a seasoned traveler, clearly knew what he was doing. No wonder he was so stingy—choosing horses for his carts wasn't just for show; he had clearly prepared for such emergencies.
The hours dragged on, and dawn broke. As the others began to wake, they started roasting horse meat for breakfast, preparing for the journey ahead.
Regardless of whether the horse meat was tasty, it was meat—enough to replenish their strength.
Just as they were tearing into their meal, a trembling figure emerged from the path behind them.
Recognizing the person's appearance, Li Huowang relaxed his guard slightly—it was the old beggar. He looked as though he had spent the entire night burying the dead.
Morning dew clung to his ragged monk's robes, leaving him shivering. He shuffled closer to the fire and squatted down, curling up for warmth.
Seeing Li Huowang looking at him, the beggar gave a toothless, sheepish grin.
Remembering the beggar's selfless act of saving someone during the bandit attack, Li Huowang's hostility softened considerably.
Though he doubted the old man's chances of survival in such a dangerous world with his overly kind heart, who would refuse the company of someone genuinely good?
Li Huowang handed him a steamed bun, which the beggar quickly took, mumbling through mouthfuls, "May the Buddha bless you."
Hearing this, Li Huowang's curiosity was piqued. "Which Buddha are you referring to?"
"Huh? Buddha is just Buddha, isn't he? Are there different ones?" The old beggar's face showed genuine confusion.
"Eat your bun. People like you are rare in this world. I just hope you're not lying to me."
"Lie? How could I lie? I'm a monk—monks don't lie!" the beggar declared earnestly.
"All you can chant is 'Amitabha,' and you don't even know which Buddha you believe in. What kind of monk are you?"
"Sun Xiucai said monks are bald, so I shaved my head. Wang the tailor said monks can't marry, so I never married! Liu the shopkeeper said monks can't eat meat, so I don't eat meat! And I saw other monks chanting 'Amitabha,' so I chanted 'Amitabha!' I've done everything right, so why can't I be a monk?"
The old beggar's stubborn insistence on his monkhood was almost endearing.
Hearing this, Li Huowang couldn't help but laugh. "That doesn't necessarily make you a monk."
The beggar paused, carefully holding the half-eaten bun, and looked at Li Huowang. "Then tell me—what does it take to be a monk?"
Under the beggar's gaze, Li Huowang opened his mouth but found himself unable to answer. Strangely, there was a profound truth hidden within the man's seemingly foolish words.
For reasons he couldn't explain, Li Huowang saw a shadow of Dan Yangzi in this man—an ignorant, yet determined persistence.
"You're illiterate, aren't you?"
"How did you know? Are all Daoists as clairvoyant as you?"
"Heh."
"Why are you so determined to be a monk, anyway?"
"A monk saved my life. If not for him, I'd have died long ago. From that day on, I swore I'd become a monk—a good monk!"
As they spoke, Li Huowang noticed Lü Zhuangyuan's troupe approaching in the distance. Patting the dust off his robes, he stood up and walked toward them.
The rest of the journey was uneventful. The old beggar continued to follow them, occasionally foraging for wild vegetables when he was too hungry. Sometimes, Li Huowang would toss him an extra bun.
After more than ten days of travel, they finally reached a city far grander than Jianye—Xijing.
Stretching out before them were towering walls of gray brick, impressive in both height and scale. Standing at the city gates, Li Huowang looked up, feeling the oppressive weight of its grandeur.
"Finally here?" he murmured, a sense of relief washing over him. After days of tension, he was grateful the nightmares he had feared hadn't materialized.
"Daoist, don't just wander into any inn in Xijing—they'll fleece you dry. Let me take you to a good, affordable one," Lü Zhuangyuan offered, stepping toward the towering gate.
But Li Huowang stopped him. "Wait. Where's the temple you mentioned earlier?"
Eager to find answers, Li Huowang followed Lü Zhuangyuan through the bustling streets toward Zhengde Temple, the most renowned and prosperous temple in Xijing.
The faint scent of sandalwood wafted through the air long before they reached the temple. As they approached, the wide streets grew increasingly crowded.
Old men, women, adults, and children—all kinds of people jostled past, many carrying bundles of incense.
Seeing their fervor, Li Huowang immediately understood they were pilgrims coming to pay their respects.
"Has this temple always been so popular?" Li Huowang asked Lü Zhuangyuan.
Before Lü could answer, a nearby worshiper interjected, "Of course! The bodhisattvas at Zhengde Temple are incredibly effective! My daughter-in-law conceived after just one prayer here."
"And the monks here are so compassionate. They distribute porridge to the poor every few days," another added.
"Yes, yes! Having such a wonderful temple in Xijing is truly a blessing," someone else chimed in.
Cultural Annotations
"Amitabha" Chant:
Annotation: "Amitabha" refers to the Buddha of Infinite Light in Mahayana Buddhism, central to the Pure Land tradition. Many laypeople and monks chant "Amitabha" as a prayer for rebirth in the Pure Land, a Buddhist paradise. However, the beggar's superficial understanding shows his lack of formal religious training.
Bodhisattva and Fertility Worship:
Annotation: Temples in Chinese culture often serve practical purposes for believers, such as praying for fertility, health, or success. The comment about a daughter-in-law conceiving highlights how temples function as centers of both spiritual and practical hope.
Temple Charity:
Annotation: The distribution of porridge (or other food) by temples reflects the Buddhist principle of compassion and care for the less fortunate. Acts like this bolster a temple's reputation and reinforce its role as a community hub.