My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

The chill was biting, as if it didn't come from the outside, but rather emanated from the depths of the body's depleted bone marrow.

Ye Qingfeng regained consciousness amidst a violent dizziness and a burning pain in his stomach.

His eyelids felt as heavy as iron, and he struggled to open them, only to be met with a dilapidated dome covered in cobwebs.

And a statue of a god, lying askew in the shadows, its gold plating peeling away to reveal its dark clay body.

The face of the statue appeared blurry and eerie in the dim light, carrying a kind of indifferent compassion.

Memory is a jumble of fragments, the neon lights of skyscrapers and the sounds of bustling traffic.

The scene, a chaotic mix of desolation and death, finally came to a standstill.

He transmigrated and possessed the body of a young beggar who had collapsed and died of hunger and cold in this desolate mountain temple.

"Uh..." He tried to move, but his limbs felt stiff and sluggish, as if they were rusty, and he felt weak to the bone.

Hunger, like an invisible hand, gripped his stomach tightly, almost wringing it dry.

My throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire, and every breath I took was a hoarse, broken bellows-like sound.

He knew that the original owner of this body was dead.

As for himself, if it weren't for some unknown force brought by the transmigration supporting his broken body, he probably would have followed it immediately.

But this amount of energy is negligible; an hour, or perhaps less, will be insufficient if no food can be found.

Ye Qingfeng will have to experience death twice in this other world.

Driven by his survival instinct, he used all his strength, groping around on his hands and feet behind the statue's base, under the altar, and in corners piled with fallen leaves.

Food... even just a little bit of something to fill your stomach...

No, there was nothing at all. Only cold dust and rotting sawdust.

Just as despair began to grip him, his fingers touched a coarse cloth bundle in a hidden recess behind the base of the statue.

With a slight urge, he laboriously dragged it out.

Unknot the knot to reveal three sets of folded old clothes.

A faded, patched gray monk's robe.

A scholar's robe with stiffened hair and a worn collar.

There was also a grayish-blue Taoist robe, which was also old, with obvious signs of wear on the cuffs and hem.

But in comparison, it is quite complete.

It's strange, why are there three pieces of clothing here?

It was cold, so cold. The chill seeped in through every crack, penetrating the thin beggar's clothes and reaching straight to the bone.

The choice was almost instinctive.

He reached out and grabbed the gray-blue Taoist robe.

The fabric is rough and slightly heavy, carrying a scent of aged incense and dust.

He struggled to wrap the large Taoist robe around himself, tied it with a matching belt, and the wide sleeves almost reached the ground.

Although it still couldn't completely block out the cold, at least there was an extra layer of insulation, and it seemed to provide some psychological support.

The daylight was rapidly fading through the crooked cracks of the temple gate, and as dusk settled, the temple became increasingly dark and gloomy.

We have to get out of here; we need to find something to eat no matter what.

He braced himself against the cold edge of the offering table, about to take a difficult step, when he heard hurried footsteps and hushed conversations coming from outside the temple gate, growing louder as they approached.

"Boss, there's a temple over here; we can rest here!"

"It's so run-down, I wonder if anyone owns it..."

With a creaking sound, the decaying temple door was pushed open.

Seven or eight strong men filed in, bringing with them a gust of cold wind and a strong sense of江湖 (jianghu, the martial arts world).

They were dressed in uniform dark blue outfits, with weapons at their waists, looking travel-worn, their eyes alert and sharp.

The leader was a dark-skinned man in his forties, with a rugged face and piercing eyes that swept across the empty, dilapidated temple in an instant.

The final image focuses on Ye Qingfeng, dressed in a Taoist robe, in the center of the hall.

Ye Qingfeng's heart skipped a beat.

This situation...

The dark-faced man indeed clasped his hands in a fist salute, his voice loud yet carrying a hint of politeness.

"We apologize for disturbing your meditation, Daoist. We are from the Weiyuan Escort Agency and are simply passing through this auspicious place."

It's getting late, and I'd like to ask to stay the night at Bao Guan. This small donation is just a token of my appreciation; I hope the Taoist priest will be so kind as to grant me this favor.

As he spoke, he took out a few loose silver coins from his pocket and handed them over.

The silver gleamed alluringly in the dim light.

But Ye Qingfeng was suffering from stomach cramps at the moment, and knew that money, though good, could not save him from his immediate crisis.

He tried to imitate the other person's mannerisms, his voice low and hoarse from weakness.

"You're too kind, everyone. This is a remote temple in the mountains, hardly a place for quiet contemplation. You can stay here without any problem. However..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the bags carried by the group.

"This donation is fine. If any of you have extra dry food, please share some to satisfy your hunger. We would be extremely grateful."

His voice was gentle, carrying a natural weariness, which was complemented by his old but clean Taoist robe, which now appeared even more loose and sparse.

In this dilapidated temple shrouded in twilight, the image of a down-and-out hermit was strangely fitting.

The dark-faced man was slightly taken aback. He looked him over carefully and saw that he was pale and had no color in his lips, which was indeed the sign of famine. He then laughed heartily.

"The Taoist priest is a highly accomplished person, indifferent to fame and fortune. Fifth brother, share some of our dry rations and dried meat with the Taoist priest, and also fetch a water bag."

The man under his command, known as Fifth Brother, responded and quickly presented Ye Qingfeng with a pile of flatbreads, dried meat, and a leather water pouch.

Ye Qingfeng thanked him and, without thinking twice, sat down on the haystack in the corner and began to eat quickly in small bites.

He didn't correct the other person's statement. Being a newcomer, having the identity of a Taoist priest seemed pretty good, better than being a beggar.

The food was coarse, but at that moment it was better than any delicacy. As it warmed up and went down, the agonizing emptiness and cramps were slightly relieved.

The bodyguards were clearly seasoned travelers, as they quickly cleared a space.

They gathered dry branches from inside and around the temple to start a bonfire, and then took out their own wine bag.

The flickering flames from the disc player dispelled the chill and darkness of the temple, bringing a touch of warmth and life.

After a few sips of strong liquor, the fatigue of the night journey was dispelled, and the bodyguards gradually started to talk.

They chatted about all sorts of things, and their initial wariness of Ye Qingfeng, this "Taoist priest," lessened.

Ye Qingfeng was delighted.

He ate slowly, replenishing his strength, and occasionally chimed in with a word or two when the bodyguards talked about their experiences in the martial world and the local customs.

He possessed insights and perspectives far beyond his time, though he spoke little and in a calm tone.

But whenever he speaks, he can either pinpoint the key point or draw analogies.

His words revealed a unique clarity, which drew nods and exclamations of surprise from the bodyguards.

Although the "Master Ye" I met by chance was dressed in tattered clothes, he was really approachable and had a wealth of knowledge that was unlike that of an ordinary Taoist priest.

At some point, a young bodyguard steered the conversation toward gods and Buddhas.

"...If we're talking about the most mysterious things in the world, we have to talk about the stories of gods and Buddhas."

"Boss, you've traveled all over the country, have you ever heard of any tales of divine intervention?"

The dark-faced head镖师 took a sip of wine and shook his head.

"True immortals are not so easy to meet. Instead, we hear all sorts of rumors about mountain spirits, monsters, and wandering ghosts. We're tired of hearing them."

Ye Qingfeng's heart stirred, recalling that magnificent masterpiece from his previous life.

He swallowed the biscuit in his mouth, wiped his hands, and said slowly.

"Speaking of gods and Buddhas, I am reminded of a widely circulated tale of the strange and supernatural."

It tells the story of a stone monkey born from heaven who stirs up trouble in the heavenly court and calls himself the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

Later, there were anecdotes about how he protected a high-ranking monk on his journey to the West to obtain Buddhist scriptures, subduing demons and monsters along the way.

"Stone Monkey? The Great Sage Equal to Heaven?" The镖师 (bodyguards/escorts) were immediately intrigued by this novel title. "Taoist Master, tell us more!"

Ye Qingfeng then selected some of the most popular passages from "Journey to the West".

It briefly talks about Sun Wukong's birth, his raid on the Dragon Palace to steal treasures, and his havoc in the Heavenly Palace.

Then, when he was pressed under the Five Finger Mountain, he vividly described the magnificent scene of the Heavenly Palace, the immortals and gods, and the magical treasures and powers in his words.

Although not all the details are described, the grand scale and wonderful imagination are far beyond what ordinary rural tales can be compared to.