Chapter Sixty-Seven: He Went Out to Seek Alms

Li Changqing: "..."

This guy is just too unreliable.

Li Changqing's face darkened as he asked, "Guess where I am?"

"Um..."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, then a somewhat uncertain voice asked, "At the detective agency?"

This bastard really is spot on. Forget it, everything is over now—no point in arguing with Hu Xiong about this any further.

He said, "Today, Shen Qingdai and I have already been to the abandoned factory."

Li Changqing told Hu Xiong a rough account of what had happened at the abandoned factory.

After hearing it, Hu Xiong showed no significant shock, nor did he show any interest in the corpse king.

This only made Li Changqing more certain about some of his guesses.

Li Changqing went straight to the point: "When Baichuan got that purple handkerchief last time, you all already knew what kind of evil thing was inside, didn't you?"

"What exactly is going on in there?"

Hu Xiong hesitated on the phone for a while before finally saying, "Li Changqing, this matter is more complicated than you think. As for the abandoned factory, without authorization, I'm not allowed to tell you anything."

"I'm a probationary member of Bureau Thirty-Six, and I still can't know?"

Li Changqing wanted to get to the bottom of what was happening in the factory.

"Sorry, for this, you need authorization from the director, or you need to be a full member of Bureau Thirty-Six," Hu Xiong paused. "You should try to stay away from that abandoned factory from now on."

Li Changqing didn't get what he wanted from Hu Xiong. After exchanging a few more casual words, he hung up.

"Hiss—"

Just then, a tearing pain shot through his chest, drawing a cold sweat to Li Changqing's forehead.

He took off his shirt and looked at his chest. The source of the pain was, once again, the black, worm-like mark.

Only this time, it had grown much longer.

What caught Li Changqing's attention was that it seemed to be creeping up toward his neck.

What on earth was this thing?

Standing before the mirror, staring at the mark, Li Changqing felt a vague sense of foreboding. He needed to find a place to investigate and see if he could dig up any clues about it.

He quickly thought of a good place to start.

...

On the riverside dock, in a refined office, Shen Qingdai sat on the sofa, a nameless fury smoldering in her heart.

"Fifth Miss, that's always been the master's way. Any explanation for failure is just seen as an excuse," Uncle Yun said as he slowly handed her a cup of tea.

As soon as they had returned in the afternoon, the two of them had reported the situation at the abandoned factory to the master by phone.

But the master paid no attention to whether there was a corpse king or any other factors at the factory.

In his mind, if the task wasn't accomplished, just admit it—don't make excuses.

This port under Huang Chao's management held no small secrets; at the very least, his life and whether the secrets had been leaked had to be determined.

The master's impression of Shen Qingdai's progress in Nanlin City was less than satisfactory, and now he used the abandoned factory as a reason to say he didn't want the investigation to continue.

"Hmph."

Shen Qingdai's eyes were cold. "It's fine if he doesn't want me to investigate anymore, but why send Fourth Brother here? That brainless fool is bound to go into the factory and get himself killed."

Though Shen Qingdai complained about her fourth brother, Uncle Yun didn't dare to chime in. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "When Young Master Four arrives, I'll stop him. I won't let him go in."

"With his brains, do you think you can stop him?"

...

The next morning, the sun shone brightly and the breeze was gentle.

Carrying some gifts, Li Changqing made his way to Tongxin Temple after asking directions from passersby.

Tongxin Temple sat on the hillside of a city park in Nanlin City. Built against the mountain, the scenery was unique, and at dawn and dusk, the paths bustled with people jogging and strolling.

Within the Vermilion Bird Federation, many people followed Buddhism; by rights, the incense at Tongxin Temple should have been thriving.

But, on the contrary, the temple was nearly deserted.

Tongxin Temple was small, with only six buildings: the main hall for the Buddha statue, the scripture storeroom, the abbot’s quarters, the monks’ dormitory, a kitchen, and a latrine.

Its outer walls were painted red, and a display board hung outside introducing the monks.

Abbot: Master Tongdeng, participant in the Federation’s Grand Buddhist Assembly...

A photo of an elderly monk in his seventies, seated cross-legged, looking every bit the accomplished master, hung above.

Beside him were profiles of the other monks, all devoted to Buddhism from a young age, aspiring to spread the Dharma.

Li Changqing even spotted a picture of Monk Jinghui, though it looked so retouched he barely recognized him.

"What a lucrative place," Li Changqing couldn't help but muse.

This was much more profitable than slaving away as a detective.

Those who worship Buddha, whether rich or poor, couldn't be stingy in front of the Enlightened One, could they?

Besides, the temple business was virtually foolproof.

What did most Buddhists seek? Health, promotion, wealth, or spiritual comfort.

While chanting sutras, the monks would throw out a few incomprehensible Buddhist aphorisms, elevating the atmosphere. People would feel enlightened, as if they had become one with Buddha, their spiritual needs wholly satisfied.

In this sense, temples were not unlike psychotherapists.

But whether it truly brought health or wealth—did that matter?

If someone was promoted or became rich after praying, it was a sign of Buddha’s blessing, and they’d donate generously in gratitude.

If someone’s family was ruined or their fortune blocked, they’d be told: everything is karma, fate is preordained. Only by enduring hardship and cultivating in this life could one escape the cycle of reincarnation in the next.

Believers would simply think they hadn’t been devout enough.

No matter how you looked at it, the temple always had a reason.

Such a good business.

The temple gates were open, and Li Changqing walked straight in. From the direction of the main hall came the rhythmic beat of a wooden fish and the chanting of many monks.

He reached the entrance and saw only a sea of shiny, bald heads—every one of them reflecting the light.

Li Changqing couldn’t tell which was Jinghui.

Not wanting to disturb the monks’ chanting, he waited quietly outside.

After a while, the chanting ended.

The old monk in the front slowly opened his eyes.

Dressed in a red kasaya and holding brown prayer beads, he was none other than Master Tongdeng from the introduction outside.

Seeing Li Changqing scanning the monks, Master Tongdeng asked gently, "Are you here to see someone?"

Li Changqing pressed his palms together in greeting. "May I ask if Little Master Jinghui is here?"

The old monk waved his hand, and the monks inside dispersed. They were all young—the eldest about thirty, the youngest only fifteen.

There were eight in total, each returning to their duties: fetching water, cooking, cleaning...

"Jinghui?" Tongdeng rose and walked over, smiling. "He’s out collecting alms. Are you a friend of his?"