With virtue

Master Yuanmeng stared at him, his gaze carrying an indescribable weight.

Zhao Yunshu didn't flinch, but looked back at him openly and even smiled at him.

The two stared at each other for a moment.

The only sound in the valley was the rustling of the pine trees, and no one looked away.

Then, Master Yuanmeng suddenly laughed, put his hands together, bowed slightly, and said, "That was a slip of the tongue."

After saying this, he turned and strolled away along the mountain path. His robe fluttered among the pine trees, and after a few turns, he disappeared at the end of the mountain path.

As soon as the figure of the Dream-Fulfilling Master disappeared at the end of the mountain path, the smile on Zhao Yunshu's face vanished instantly.

He frowned sharply, reached into his robes, and pulled out the yellowed book.

He flipped through the pages with a whoosh, only stopping at the very end. He looked down, his pupils shrinking sharply—there, a brand new page had appeared.

The figure drawn on the page was none other than Master Yuanmeng, who had just spoken to him face to face.

Wearing a sandalwood kasaya and a plain white monk's robe, his hands are clasped together, and his face is as serene as a full moon. However, this portrait is completely different from the other ghost and monster illustrations in the book. The lines are weak and broken, the ink is uneven, and the patterns on the kasaya are only half drawn before abruptly ending, as if the painter's brush was suddenly taken away at this point.

Below the portrait, there should have been textual annotations about his life, origins, supernatural powers, and weaknesses, but at this moment, it was blank, with only a few ink marks of varying depths.

It's probably because I didn't absorb enough energy, so I didn't finish the painting.

Damn it, this monk isn't human!

The Yellow Book only records demons and monsters, but never people!

He tucked the yellow book into his pocket, quickened his pace, and almost jogged down the mountain path, heading straight for the kiln.

I hurried to the kiln site and saw a large crowd gathered in the open space outside the gate, more than twice as many as yesterday.

Yesterday, the porridge stall consisted of just one pot, but today three large pots have been set up, with long queues in front of each pot. The queues are mostly made up of emaciated refugees, the elderly, women, children, and even quite a few young adults, all holding broken bowls and craning their necks to look ahead.

Several kiln workers were busy around the pot, sweating profusely. One of them was shouting at the top of his lungs to maintain order, his voice cracking from shouting.

Normally, Zhao Yunshu would stop to take a look, or even lend a hand.

But he didn't stop walking. He quickly scanned the crowd and left. After asking someone a couple of questions, he went straight to the back of the porridge stall.

He was looking for Chen Wanchuan.

After asking around, Chen Wanchuan was indeed there, sleeves rolled up, holding a large wooden ladle, arguing with a kiln worker.

It was an old man with a high-pitched voice. He pointed at Chen Wanchuan's nose and said, "Didn't I teach you? First, scoop out most of a bowl of rice porridge, then scoop out the rice! Understand? You come up here with a solid ladleful. These peasants don't even eat this thick at home!"

Chen Wanchuan, however, didn't buy it. While ladling porridge, he replied without looking up, "Brother, since it's grain from the official treasury, it should be used for the disaster victims. It's not your money, so why are you so stingy?"

The kiln worker was taken aback by his words, his face flushed with anger, and he kicked out!

However, Chen Wanchuan was strong and had practiced martial arts. The kick actually made him feel pain. After finally regaining his balance, he looked at Chen Wanchuan with some fear.

Chen Wanchuan still had a grin on his face.

Just then, a hand reached in from outside the crowd and precisely grabbed Chen Wanchuan's wrist.

Chen Wanchuan turned his head and saw Zhao Yunshu's solemn face. His smile immediately vanished. He had never seen the young Taoist priest with such an expression before.

"Brother Chen," Zhao Yunshu lowered his voice, speaking a few seconds faster than usual, "pack your things, let's take the baby and leave Dingyao first."

Without a word, Chen Wanchuan put the wooden spoon into the pot, wiped his hands on his clothes, and asked in a low voice, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"The child is still at the charred site, let's talk as we walk." Zhao Yun loosened his wrist, glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, and then added in a low voice, "That monk isn't human."

Chen Wanchuan's expression changed drastically, but he didn't ask any more questions and simply nodded.

Now that we've decided what to do, there's no need to delay any longer.

The two hurried to the char-making site, where the charred pits were still burning smolderingly, and thick smoke billowed out from the openings of the pits, shrouding half of the hillside in a hazy smog.

Several kiln workers were squatting by the pit, watching the fire in the coke oven, their coughs mingling with the sounds of their work.

Zhao Yunshu's gaze swept quickly across the scorched earth—Wang Haiting was nowhere to be seen, nor were the two children.

Only a few unfamiliar kiln workers were working diligently.

What about people?

Wang Haiting doesn't seem like the type to slack off; this kid is actually quite perceptive.

Chen Wanchuan grabbed a kiln worker carrying coke and gestured, asking where the children were.

The kiln worker shook his head blankly and said, "I was working, how could I pay attention to so many things? I saw three children picking up coke over there in the yard a quarter of an hour ago, I don't know where they've run off to now."

Just as Chen Wanchuan was about to ask another question, he saw Sun Shouxin walk down the slope, as if he had been guarding the place all along.

Upon seeing the Taoist priest and the peddler, he walked over to them.

Behind him followed two burly men with long swords at their waists. They were the guards who had driven away the refugees with their sword sheaths at the entrance of the kiln yesterday. The two men stood on either side of Sun Shouxin, without saying a word.

"Chief Sun," Zhao Yunshu composed himself and stepped forward, "regarding the Dream-Fulfilling Master—"

"Master Yuanmeng sent me to find you." Sun Shouxin greeted him with a smile before he could finish speaking. "I just came down from the mountain and received his message. The Master said you shouldn't rush off, but go see him first. He's at the kiln."

Zhao Yunshu's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

After parting ways with Monk Yuanmeng in the mountain valley, he hurried back to the kiln without delay.

But Sun Shouxin said that Master Yuanmeng's news arrived before his? Master Yuanmeng took the mountain path, and so did he. After they parted ways, he practically ran down the mountain—this monk's pace was far too fast.

"Does the Master have anything else to say?" Zhao Yunshu asked calmly.

"That's all," Sun Shouxin shook his head. "I just asked you to come over, Daoist Master. How could you leave without even saying goodbye? That's not polite."

He spoke politely, but his feet remained firmly planted in front of Zhao Yunshu.

Chen Wanchuan, who was behind, saw everything clearly and frowned as he was about to step forward to speak.

Zhao Yunshu stopped him, and only asked Sun Shouxin, "Where are the three children?"

Sun Shouxin still had a smiling expression. "Don't worry, Daoist Master, the children are fine. They're with the Master. You can take them away when you return from seeing the Master."