The monk lowered his eyes and carefully stepped over the shattered stones and tiles on the ground, making his way toward that remaining half of a side wing. As he stepped forward, his fingers, concealed within his sleeves, absentmindedly brushed against the coins at his waist. A moment later, frowning, he let them go.
Stuck as a clump of moss, Jiang Shining stared at the monk’s shoes, afraid the monk might accidentally tread on Jiang Shining’s paper body as he moved about. In contrast, Xue Xian remained at ease, perceiving the monk as no threat whatsoever.
As expected, the side wing was so small, one could scan its contents with one look. In fact, the monk didn’t even step inside. He merely paused at the doorway for a moment before turning to leave.
Xue Xian couldn’t help silently sneering once more—but he found his mirth cut short when the monk came back. This time, he held a piece of white hemp cloth in his hand. Judging from its size, the scrap had probably been torn from his robe. He used the clean fabric to hold a piece of copper he had discovered in the courtyard. With a cold expression, he approached Xue Xian, squatted with a rustle of his robe, and scooped Moss Xue right off the ground.
Xue Xian remained furiously silent. While scooping him up, the monk had wrinkled his brow for a brief moment. If Xue Xian wasn’t mistaken, it was a look of disgust.
This bald donkey bastard thinks I’m dirty! Me?!
Xue Xian, who’d once prided himself on—as it was said—being able to pierce the heavens above and shake the earth below, now found himself at the mercy of a monk who possessed nothing beyond his good looks. And the act had cost the monk only a scrap of worn copper…
After being scooped up, the two clumps of moss quickly revealed their true forms, transforming into two small humanoid figures made of paper. The monk cast a cursory glance at the faces of the paper figures, then folded them up and tucked them inside a hidden pouch at his waist.
Xue Xian’s heart raged like a tsunami, but before he could unleash his fury on this bald donkey, he found himself pressed flat against the monk’s side, not a sliver of space separating them.
If pure frustration could kill a man, Xue Xian would have perished more than two hundred times in the time it took for him to be shoved into the pouch. With his arrogant nature, he liked humiliating others but could not accept others doing the same to him. This wise one was brazen and unreasonable, and this time, he’d carelessly struck his foot against a pebble and stubbed his toe. He was hopping mad. The inciting incident no longer mattered: From this point forward, the insolent monk was his nemesis.
Xue Xian was the type who refused to bend. He could be persuaded into things, but never forced into action. If he had a knife in his hand, he would have plunged it right into the monk’s lower back without a second thought. Unfortunately, he never carried weapons.
Though this monk was the perfect image of a frozen statue, emotionless and unresponsive, his body was still warm to the touch. Faint body heat suffused through the thin white hemp of his clothing, permeating the paper doll bit by bit. In no time at all, Paper Xue found himself thoroughly warmed.
Damn it!
It was truly vexing. For someone in poor health, a touch of warmth on a cold winter day could easily undermine their fighting spirit—especially for Xue Xian, who had been paralyzed for six months. His meridians were blocked and his circulation poor. His body struggled to retain warmth; he’d practically been frozen all winter. As the heat enveloped him, his body disobeyed his mind, and a sense of lethargy washed over him, leaving him reluctant to move.
Folded in half, Xue Xian lay there like a paper craft for a moment before he shook off his body’s indolence and quietly began to explore the pouch.
He still did not know what to make of this young monk. If he was truly the real deal, what kind of exorcist would tear his robe to pick up some moss? Even a toddler who only knew how to make messes could manage that without using a cloth. Those truly capable could raise a patch of ground with the twitch of a finger. In fact, if they wanted to, they could uproot the entire courtyard! Why would they need to grab some copper scraps to pick up a bit of dirt?
But if this monk wasn’t the real deal, how had he seen through the web of Xue Xian’s illusions so quickly?
At first, Xue Xian moved cautiously, careful not to make any noise. Using the thinness of his paper body, he navigated the space undetected. However, his caution soon dissipated because, before long, the monk stopped having the luxury to pay attention to him. A jumble of voices from beyond the courtyard filtered in through the white hemp fabric and the pouch. It seemed like a crowd had gathered, though Xue Xian didn’t know why.
“Hey, why are you hitting my face?!” Jiang Shining’s voice was low, his words uttered through clenched teeth. It sounded like he’d reached the end of his patience with Xue Xian after the latter had accidentally patted the wrong thing in his exploration of the pouch. Xue Xian had neither the time nor the mood to explain himself to Jiang Shining, so he hushed him, warning the bookworm not to make any noise.
In the past half year, Xue Xian’s movements had been terribly restricted. Any time he wished to do something or go somewhere, he was forced to wait for a lucky break. This time, he’d been fortunate enough to come across a charlatan monk. Even if he was a fraud, he was sure to have a tool or two that he’d use for tricking others. Xue Xian hoped to snatch a useful item from the pouch before escaping amid the chaos.
While Xue Xian was occupied, the young monk who’d seized him made his way to the entrance of the Jiang family clinic. The once-sturdy gates were no longer whole, their copper fittings warped and misshapen. The double doors failed to close properly, leaving a sizeable gap where they met.
Pausing by the entrance, the monk gazed ahead. Through that space between the doors, reminiscent of a toothy grin, he could clearly make out the silhouettes of people outside. With the clinic long reduced to ruins, there were no lanterns hanging at the entrance. Even if there had been, there was no one left to light them. Instead, the group of men past the door were holding a string of paper lanterns, the hazy white glow casting an air of menacing severity over them. It was clear they weren’t there for a friendly visit; they’d either come to hunt ghosts or to seize someone.
Most people would feel a sense of apprehension when confronted with an oppressive sight like this. But the young monk only shot them a glance before looking away. He pushed open the courtyard door, ignoring the newcomers, and stepped forward to leave as if they weren’t there at all.
The crowd gathered at the entrance of the Jiang family clinic wasn’t just any group. They numbered around ten, each dressed in the county office’s smoke-blue uniform and carrying a slender, two-foot-long saber at their waist. Seeing that the monk was preparing to depart, they swiftly gripped their sabers, encircling him and cutting off his escape route.
The monk stopped, frowning as he scanned the people in front of him, confused as to what they wanted from him.