Five li beyond the southern gate of Xuzhou City lay a stretch of lush, verdant land teeming with life. The terrain rose gently, and a stream wound its way through the woods. Every spring, both young and old from the city would come to enjoy the greenery.
It was not the season for spring outings, yet the path remained bustling with people.
The reason was simple: nestled within the ancient, century-old forest was a temple called Infant’s Cry Temple.
Those coming and going were all there to burn incense, pray to Buddha, and beseech for children.
Infant’s Cry Temple had a long history. One story said that several hundred years ago, when heaven and earth were in turmoil and demons and monsters ran rampant, Immortals and cultivators descended from their mountains to save the mortal realm. A Devil Chief, the leader of all Devil Cultivators under heaven, had his Malevolent Will take form. Hunted by the Immortals, he fled here.
At that time, Xuzhou was not yet the number one city of the West Ruins it is today; it was just an ordinary small town.
The Malevolent Will was savage. Wherever it passed, not a blade of grass grew. The entire small town was slaughtered to the last—men, women, elderly, and children. No one survived. The scene, for a time, became difficult to censor.
After the righteous cultivators arrived, they found it hard to distinguish the Devil Qi traces of the Malevolent Will amidst the massive death aura. They assumed it had, as usual, killed the inhabitants of this place and intended to continue fleeing south.
Snow blanketed the ground, corpses mostly hidden beneath it, with only heads and feet exposed. To bury everyone in this town one by one would inevitably take much time. By then, the Devil Chief’s delaying tactic would succeed, allowing him to escape to the Central Plains, which would likely be another catastrophic disaster.
They were about to leave and continue their southern pursuit when, from within the wind-swept, snow-buried dead city, the sound of a baby’s cry suddenly rang out.
It was this infant’s cry that made everyone turn back. Only then did they discover the cunning Devil Chief feigning death, hidden among the corpses, using the death aura to mask his own presence.
The Devil Chief used the infant as a hostage but was still no match for the combined forces’ siege. In the end, he paid a terrible price, sacrificing part of his Soul Spirit to self-destruct, allowing his main body to flee south in a panic.
Though they failed to capture the Malevolent Will, they at least heavily wounded the Devil Chief.
Without this success, they might not have been able to force him into the Southern Miasma Sea later.
The stories that followed were also part of common folklore—
The Three Great Immortal Sects joined forces. The Devil Chief was vanquished, and the demons and monsters were dealt a devastating blow. They retreated one after another, vanishing without a trace. Over a hundred years, the land’s vitality was restored, returning to an era of peaceful and prosperous times.
The Ten Thousand Buddhas Temple built a monastery here to perform rites for the lost souls. Because of that incident, they named it Infant’s Cry.
With this Buddhist temple, more and more people came, drawn by its fame, seeking peace and happiness. This place soon flourished and gradually transformed into the current number one city of Xuzhou.
Fu Mingxia had heard all this history from a traveling merchant on her way here.
The massacre at the City Lord Mansion had spread throughout Xuzhou days ago. For a time, panic gripped everyone. Even the Magistrate claimed illness and went into hiding. The first thought of ordinary folk was, naturally, to go to Infant’s Cry Temple to burn incense and pray for protection.
More visitors meant better business. The merchant, carrying his wares, planned to make some money here. He noticed Fu Mingxia’s extraordinary demeanor; the material of her dress was valuable, clearly from a wealthy family.
But she had no maids or servants following her, which was a bit strange. Although the merchant had his doubts, he answered all her questions readily. If the young lady was in a good mood, she might buy a few things from him.
Though Fu Mingxia was a cultivator, she had descended the mountain before and knew the ways of the mortal world. She promptly took out a string of cash and casually picked a red woven button from the top of his cargo box. “Thank you, big brother. I’ll buy a little trinket.”
The merchant was initially hesitant. “My wife made this. It’s not worth this much money. Ten copper coins will do. But, this Peace Knot you picked… you have a good eye. She designed it herself; you can’t buy it anywhere else!”
When he spoke of his wife, the merchant’s face lit up with a happy, proud smile. “Giving it to a loved one or friend is sending peace. It’s excellent for personal use too! Not to brag about my own goods, but you can ask around for the name Zhang Laoqi. The things I sell are absolutely good quality and cheap! Right, this Peace Button—if you take it to the Eminent Monk beside Infant’s Cry Temple for a blessing, it won’t just grant peace, it’ll also ward off evil spirits and repel Devils!”
Warding off evil spirits and repelling Devils—perfectly timely. He was a master of sales.
Fu Mingxia examined the red woven Peace Button carefully. The knotting technique was indeed different from ordinary buttons: small, tight, and compact. It felt smooth and comfortable to the touch. She put it away. “Thank you. But, why is this Eminent Monk beside Infant’s Cry Temple, not inside it?”
Zhang Qi tucked the money into his shirt. “Ah, you don’t know. If you have money and want to burn incense and pray to Buddha, you have to go into the temple. But that trip costs a lot of silver. The incense sticks are divided into six grades and nine types. For whatever you wish, you burn a specific incense and pray to a specific Buddha. And then there are the candles, lamp oil, gold foil… ordinary people can’t afford it. Those with little money but who still want to beseech the Bodhisattva only have one place to go—the Eminent Monk Mingwu.”
He lowered his voice: “I’m only telling you this because you seem kind-hearted. But—”
Zhang Qi smiled, “Looking at your clothes, you probably don’t lack a few taels of silver for incense. If you’re not interested, pretend I never mentioned it.”
Fu Mingxia was certainly interested. “Besides this Eminent Monk Mingwu you mentioned, are there any other monks among the people with equal virtue and high prestige who are also called Eminent Monk?”
Zhang Qi walked and thought. “There are many monks in the temple. Though this Buddhist temple was built by Immortals and Buddhas, I’ve grown up in Xuzhou and know the Immortals left long ago. The abbot has profound Buddhist wisdom, but if you say the two words ‘Eminent Monk,’ it has to be Mingwu.”
As they talked, they had already entered the woods. Here, the trees were lush with branches and leaves, bamboo stalks shot straight into the sky, and many hundred-year-old trees blocked light and wind with ease. Pedestrians walking this forest path felt very cool; insects and birds sang, full of vitality.
Looking at the vibrant scene before her, who could imagine that eight hundred years ago, in the harsh winter, this place was also littered with corpses, scarred and devastated, overrun by demons and monsters—a hell on earth.
Fu Mingxia asked again, “I’m rather interested in this Eminent Monk. Could you point the way, big brother?”
Zhang Qi looked up at the road ahead, freeing a hand to wipe the light sweat from his face. “You’re too kind, miss. I’m heading there too. Lots of people, good for business. Just follow me. We’ll be there in about half a quarter of an hour.”
Probably due to the goodwill bought by that string of cash, Zhang Qi was proactive and accommodating towards her.
In the end, the poor still made up the majority of this city.
In the distance, corners of the Buddhist temple’s brick and tile roofs were faintly visible. But beside the main road, a small path branched off, leading into the unknown depths of the woods. More people were taking this side path, all dressed in coarse cloth and hemp garments.
Fu Mingxia recalled the several taels of silver Lady Wu had given to the “Eminent Monk.” That was no small amount, more than enough to burn incense in the temple. If she were after a bargain, she shouldn’t have sought out a wild recruiter doing business outside.
She asked, “Does this Eminent Monk… charge for his services?”
Zhang Qi replied, “You can’t say that. The Eminent Monk doesn’t take money. Otherwise, would so many people go to him?”
This didn’t match what Lady Wu had said. Fu Mingxia asked again, “But I have a friend. His elderly mother came to see the Eminent Monk to pray for her children’s safety. The monk took three taels for divination and another tael to ward off evil. Could she have met a fake?”
Zhang Qi laughed. “Your friend’s family must be very rich, throwing away several taels of silver like that without any regret. But an Eminent Monk is an Eminent Monk; there’s no such thing as a real monk versus a fake one.”
After laughing, Zhang Qi thought again and said, “Look, what you said and what you asked aren’t the same thing.”
“Hmm?”
“The Eminent Monk doesn’t charge us poor folks for his work. The thing that takes the money is—it.”
The merchant pointed a finger towards the sky.
Fu Mingxia: “Is it the heavens?”
Zhang Qi: “It’s fate.”
The merchant, likely a regular on this route, had developed some insights. “I’ve heard the Eminent Monk say it too: everyone has their own fate. Having a wish means not accepting your fate, wanting to change it. Naturally, that comes at a cost. If you want a talisman to change your fate, don’t you have to pay for the materials to draw it? Pay a bit more to bribe the heavens above, so they turn a blind eye to your fate? In the end, not a cent of this money goes into the Eminent Monk’s pocket!”
Fu Mingxia was amazed. “I thought you were the most eloquent, the best at doing business. I didn’t expect the real best businessman is someone else.”
So “no fees” just meant no service charges.
Zhang Qi was puzzled. “Who is the young lady talking about?”
Fu Mingxia smiled faintly. “It’s nothing. That pavilion ahead, is that the Eminent Monk?”
On a slope not far ahead stood an elegant little pavilion, a red wooden plaque hanging on it with three words in gold lacquer: “Pure Heart Pavilion.” Inside, a bald monk with a white beard and yellow robes sat at a table. A woman sat facing him on the other side of the table. The two were talking. Outside the pavilion, several people waited in line.
It had to be said, Mingwu’s business was indeed good.
Zhang Qi also put down his cargo box and started setting up. “That’s right, miss, go ahead. Remember, if you can get Master Mingwu to bless that Peace Button and then wear it on you, the effect will be a hundred times better!”
Fu Mingxia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I know.”
She walked up the stone steps, drawing sideways glances from the surrounding crowd. After all, whether by appearance or attire, she shouldn’t have been there.
“Many thanks, Master! Many thanks, Master!”
The woman put down a string of cash, tucked away a triangular paper talisman pouch from the table, and after thanking him, got up and left. The next person wanted to come over, but Fu Mingxia had taken the spot. They didn’t know which noble family’s daughter she was and dared not rush forward rashly.
The old monk seemed to be around sixty or seventy, with a clean-shaven head and a white beard. He bowed his head, counting the copper coins, seemingly very satisfied. Then he started counting again from the beginning, verifying the amount several times.
Fu Mingxia: “You are Master Mingwu?”
Mingwu, still counting money with his head down, replied, “Patron, line up. There are three people before you.”
As he spoke, he reached under the adjacent fortune-telling cylinder, fished out a wooden tag with the character “Nine” (Nine) written on it, and tossed it onto the table. “Here, take your number and go line up.”
Professional. This was what you called professional.
Doing business here, you even had to take a number.
But Fu Mingxia didn’t pick up the tag. She only smiled and said, “I’m not here to pray to Buddha. I’m here to investigate a case.”
Mingwu finally raised his head. His eyes weren’t particularly bright, tinged with a hint of cloudiness. He squinted, pointing at the people behind Fu Mingxia. “No matter who you are, since you’ve come to my place, you can’t escape three words—”
His aged voice enunciated each word: “A. Wish. Made.”
After speaking, Mingwu pushed the tag further towards her. “Whatever case you’re working on, if you’ve sought out this old monk today, it means you have a wish for this old monk. If you have a wish, you must line up and wait for your number to be called. Understand, little Mingxia.”
Fu Mingxia’s smile vanished.
Because he had called her by name.
She abruptly stood up, picked up the wooden tag from the table, fished out another string of cash, and exchanged the tag and cash for a “Six” (Six) tag with the man behind her. Then she returned to her seat at the table, flashing the number. “Now I am Number Six. May I?”
She didn’t think the monk before her was some attained master. He seemed both ordinary and extraordinary.
Ordinary because there wasn’t a trace of Spiritual Power on him that a cultivator should have. Extraordinary because no proper monk would sit there fondling a string of cash, happily counting it three times.
Like all occult peddlers, he’d used some method to deduce the visitor’s identity, seemingly casually uttering her name to instantly shatter any doubt she had towards him, then guiding the target into full-fledged trust induction.
Determining her identity was simple.
The name “Goddess Mingxia” was a household name here.
The Immortals of Fuxi Mountain had come to assist the Government Office in apprehending the Devil Cultivator committing crimes here—this news had long spread through every street and alley. It just wasn’t the first thing everyone would think of.
“Alright, alright.”
Mingwu carefully tucked the copper coins inside his monk’s robe. “You little girl are quite impatient. Tell me, what’s the matter?”
Fu Mingxia: “Aren’t you a master of fortune-telling? Why don’t you calculate why I’ve sought you out?”
Mingwu frowned. “Who said I can calculate fortunes?”
Fu Mingxia: “Before I even revealed my identity, you called me by name. Doesn’t that count?”
The old monk shook his head. “Little Mingxia, you’re mistaken there. I knew your name not because I’m so capable, but because I’ve seen you before.”
He gave a kindly smile. “The last time I saw your parents bringing you here, you were just a little doll. I can’t believe you’ve grown so big in the blink of an eye. I’ve grown old too. Time really spares no one. I shouldn’t blink so casually anymore.”
All elders in the world like to say something like this when meeting a younger generation, but it rarely backfires.
Clearly, Mingwu’s had backfired.
Fu Mingxia: “My mother hasn’t descended the mountain in a hundred years, since my father died. What year did you see the two of them, exactly?”
Mingwu’s smile froze on his face.
“Quick! The old swindler is over there!”
A shout suddenly rang out from the distance. “Don’t let him run away again!”
“How dare he still come to our Infant’s Cry Temple!”
“Seize him! We must send him to the Disciplinary Hall! Setting up a private donation stand, he’s finished this time!”
Fu Mingxia and the waiting commoners all looked towards the source of the sound. Several young monks, armed with sticks and clubs, were charging from the distance towards the pavilion.
Mingwu, who had been leisurely stroking his beard, heard this. Instantly, with lightning speed, he swept everything on the table into a wooden chest beside him. He rolled up the tablecloth and draped it over himself, pulled a headscarf from the upper layer of the chest to cover his conspicuous bald head. After completing this set of fluid motions, he hoisted the chest onto his back and dashed out of the pavilion.
Hearing the commotion, Fu Mingxia turned her head, just in time to see his fleeing back.
She’d just woken up, and had witnessed a sexagenarian perform a vanishing act with the nimble speed of a hundred-meter sprinter, his reaction time surpassing ninety-nine percent of vendors who saw the city inspectors coming.
By the time the nearby monks rushed to the pavilion, there was no trace of Mingwu. They hadn’t even gotten a number tag from him.
The monks had no choice but to turn to the people outside the pavilion. “How many times have we told you? If you want to pray to deities and Buddha, just go to the temple! Here, at this swindler’s stall, if you get swindled out of your money, who can stand up for you?”
“That old swindler runs so fast.”
“Escaped again! Forget it, next time we must be more cautious. Surround him before we grab him!”
“Right, we can’t alert the snake again.”
Seeing this, Zhang Qi also started packing up his cargo box, planning to move his stall to the temple entrance. Like the dispersed commoners, he didn’t believe these Infant’s Cry Temple monks.
From his business mindset, Master Mingwu came to Infant’s Cry Temple for the same reason he did—lots of people came here to pray to Buddha!
Why were the monks at Infant’s Cry Temple meddling in this? No victims had complained to the temple or the Government Office. They were so kindly coming out because the Eminent Monk here was stealing their incense offerings, weren’t they?
If the common people could resolve their issues here for a little money, or even for free, who would go to the temple to burn incense?
As for whether Master Mingwu was a swindler?
That was like asking Zhang Qi whether the Peace Button truly guaranteed peace!
With the crowd dispersed, deep in the woods over there, a disguised Mingwu, carrying his wooden chest and draped in a tablecloth, was sitting on the branch of a great hundred-year-old tree, massaging his legs and catching his breath.
“This old life of mine is really going to be the death of me.”
He occasionally looked up toward the direction he’d come from. Only when he was sure no one had followed did he sigh in relief. “Living to old age, just trying to earn a living… it truly isn’t easy.”
“Earning so much money every day, and it’s still not enough for you to earn a meal?”
A young girl’s voice suddenly appeared.
“Hmm?”
Mingwu tensed, looking around but seeing no one. Remembering something, he looked up. The Teal-Robed Maiden sat among the slanting branches, sunlight dappling her through the green leaves. She was beautiful beyond the mortal realm.
Mingwu furrowed his pale brow. “Why is it you again, little girl? Those missing people have nothing to do with me. Following me won’t get you anything.”
“Your information is quite current, knowing what I’m here for.”
Fu Mingxia jumped down. “Don’t worry, I won’t haul you off to the Disciplinary Hall. I’m just here on behalf of Lady Wu to ask: to save her son, how much more money will it take?”