After the ghost-hunting master descended the mountain, his fame spread throughout the capital.

Immediately following, another voice, much calmer in comparison, with the peaceful tone characteristic of Buddhists, spoke in a completely incongruous manner, its tone filled with frustration:

"Amitabha Buddha, forgive me, forgive me. You stinking Taoist! How dare you say that who was it that couldn't resist the aroma of roast chicken on the way, drooling for days, and insisted on grabbing my robe and forcing me to buy it?"

"How dare you make a highly virtuous monk like me go out and buy roast chicken in broad daylight?! Ah... Buddha, please forgive me, this humble monk has broken his vow of silence again and has become angry."

Jiang Dusheng: "..."

The last vestige of clarity in his mind was shaken to the brink by the two arguing voices.

She wanted to roll her eyes, but she didn't even have the strength for that.

Darkness completely engulfed her.

After an unknown amount of time, consciousness slowly surfaced like a sunken ship.

Jiang Dusheng's eyelashes trembled as he struggled to open his heavy eyelids.

As the blurry vision gradually focused, the first thing that came into view was Abbot Hong'an's magnified face, covered in wrinkles yet trying to make a tearful expression.

He was lying on the headboard, looking at her expectantly.

Jiang Dusheng: "..."

She took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to smash the face in front of her, and squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth:

"Wang Dazhuang! Do you want your soul to be scattered and destroyed?"

Wang Dazhuang, who was now in Hong An's body, trembled at the murderous tone. He quickly sat up and, using Hong An's aged and deep voice, cried out in a pitiful, aggrieved tone:

"Master! Please don't be angry. It's all because this old monk is too ugly! Not only is his bald head shiny, but the wrinkles on his face could trap a mosquito! Even when Miss Ruan came to see you just now, she secretly covered her mouth and laughed at me!"

"I don't want to stay in there anymore, it's too torturous for ghosts! Please, please cast a spell to let me out, I want to go back to my paper doll body, even if it's just Scarface!"

Just then, the door was pushed open, and Huiming walked in carrying a bowl of medicine.

He still had that kind and benevolent look.

Hearing Wang Dazhuang's complaint, Huiming chuckled, placed the medicine bowl on the table, and slowly said:

"You little brat, you really don't know what's good for you. This is the body of that old man Hong'an... cough cough, this is the body that the abbot of Huguo Temple has nurtured for decades using Buddhist secret methods. Although his soul has scattered now, his essence is still there. Ordinary wandering ghosts would feel like they were being pricked by needles if they even got within three feet of him, let alone crawl in."

"If it weren't for the unusual compatibility between your birth chart and his, and the fact that his soul had left his body and his physical defenses were at their weakest at the time, with your meager cultivation, you wouldn't have been able to get in. Not even a chance."

Huiming paused, a hint of regret flashing in his eyes, "If I weren't still alive, I would have liked to borrow it to play with... uh, to study it."

Upon hearing this, Wang Dazhuang curled his lip and muttered under his breath, "You're just kidding. What's so great about this hard, cold shell? I wouldn't take it even if it were free."

Despite saying that, under Huiming's seemingly gentle but actually intimidating gaze, he obediently moved aside to make room for Huiming.

Huiming walked to the bedside, placed his hand on Jiang Dusheng's wrist to check his pulse, examined him carefully for a moment, and then a satisfied smile appeared on his face:

"Yes, although the pulse is weak, the foundation is not flawed, and this misfortune may actually bring good fortune."

He withdrew his hand, looked at Jiang Dusheng, and explained, "The tear of soul that Hong'an forced out before his death condensed a portion of his Buddhist power and his lifelong cultivation insights. By accepting that memory, you have also unconsciously absorbed and integrated this power."

Huiming stroked his beard, his tone tinged with a hint of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a complex emotion encompassing both admiration and regret): "Although it won't grant you his full cultivation level overnight, this power, when integrated with your own foundation, will bring immeasurable benefits over time."

"When you practice Buddhist techniques in the future, you will definitely achieve twice the results with half the effort, and you will be able to master many key points without a teacher. This is equivalent to getting half of his life's worth of skills for free, saving you at least ten years of arduous practice."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Dusheng's eyes widened in disbelief.

Then, a smile appeared on her pale face: "Master, so does that mean you can't beat me now?"

Upon hearing this, Huiming's smile froze instantly, and she immediately raised her hand and slapped Jiang Dusheng on the back of the head.

"You brat! You just woke up and you're already trying to betray your master and ancestors?" He glared, puffing out his beard. "Don't even mention you're as weak as a chick right now. Even if you really absorbed all of Hong An's family's wealth, this old monk wouldn't need to use a single bit of my magic power; this slap alone would be enough to make you obedient! You think you can turn the world upside down?"

Jiang Dusheng cried out "Ouch!", clutching the back of his head, wincing in pain, and muttered:

"You're really rude, it was just a joke, why did you hit so hard?"

As she rubbed the back of her head, her gaze couldn't help but sweep across the room. Not seeing that familiar, tall figure, her heart tightened slightly, and she couldn't help but ask, "Where's Xie Jinchen?"

Huiming snorted, his tone softening somewhat, and said with a hint of admiration:

"That kid, he's been through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, he's got a solid foundation."

"After suffering such severe internal and external injuries, drinking my special herbal medicine, and meditating for several hours, I am now able to get out of bed and walk around."

He gestured with his lip towards a certain direction outside the door, "Look, I'm going to the front to discuss with the Crown Prince how to force him to abdicate..."

Seemingly realizing he had misused the words, Huiming coughed lightly and corrected himself, "Pah, it's about discussing the important matter of how to purge the court of corrupt officials and rectify the government."

When the topic turned to business, a hint of seriousness flashed across Huiming's face, but she quickly leaned closer to Jiang Dusheng, lowered her voice, and gave him a slightly ingratiating smile:

"My dear disciple, you see... when the Crown Prince, or rather, the new Emperor, ascends the throne and rewards are distributed, could you talk to him about upgrading our Nanchan Temple to a National Protection Temple as well?"

Jiang Dusheng: "..."

She looked at her master's expectant face, remained silent for a few seconds, then solemnly clasped her hands together and recited in a clear and resonant voice:

"Amitabha."

She raised her eyes and looked at Huiming with clear eyes: "Master, all forms are illusions. Whether a temple is called Nanchan Temple or Huguo Temple is just a name, all empty illusions."

"One should cultivate the mind without dwelling on anything. The essence of cultivation lies in the mind, not in external fame. Attachment to the name of Huguo Temple is clinging to appearances, giving rise to a clinging and discriminating mind, which contradicts the pure essence of Buddhism and may create afflictions and obstacles."

She paused, then asked softly, her tone so sincere it seemed she was truly seeking guidance: "Master, you agree, right?"

Huiming was rendered speechless by his disciple's righteous and stern words. After a long pause, he glanced at Jiang Dusheng with disdain and muttered:

"You little brat, you've grown wings and started using grand principles to shut your master up."

He stroked his beard, his eyes darting around, and slowly said, "My disciple, you're always spouting scriptures and lecturing. What exactly does that Xie family brat like about you?"

Jiang Dusheng was secretly pleased that he had choked his master, but upon hearing this, his eyes widened suddenly, and he opened his mouth to retort.

"Master, I love the way she chants scriptures so earnestly."

A cheerful voice came from the doorway, picking up where Huiming left off.