Everyone walked to the nunnery gate. Old Nun Huiru had been waiting for some time.

“Distinguished guests, vegetarian meals have long been prepared, though they cannot compare to the fine dishes in the capital—just ordinary food.”

“We’re not particular about such things.”

Yan Sanhe interrupted her. “When was Water Moon Nunnery built, and what was it originally?”

Huiru hadn’t expected her to suddenly ask this. She hurried to reply, “Water Moon Nunnery existed during the previous dynasty. When built, it was already a nunnery—through wind and rain for hundreds of years, it’s never changed.”

Yan Sanhe surveyed the walls and roof tiles. “It seems to have been renovated?”

Huiru confirmed, “To be honest, Miss, it was indeed refurbished. It was truly too dilapidated—when rain fell from the sky, it also fell indoors. Uninhabitable.”

Yan Sanhe asked, “How many nuns live here?”

Huiru replied, “Water Moon Nunnery doesn’t have many nuns—fewer than forty.”

Yan Sanhe was somewhat surprised. “So few?”

“Miss may not know—the capital has several nunneries, all built beside temples. Their incense offerings are all better than ours. Many people prefer to become nuns there.”

“Why?”

“Actually, I’ve seen too many cases like Fourth Madam. Suffering some shock, they want to become nuns—claiming to seek refuge, but their hearts remain in the mortal world, unable to quiet down.”

Yan Sanhe thought of how the Ji family insisted on sending Fourth Madam here, understanding somewhat.

In this world, there were true monks and false monks; true nuns and false nuns.

False nuns couldn’t endure hardship or tolerate poverty, naturally all rushing toward places with flourishing incense offerings.

“So those who can stay at Water Moon Nunnery are all truly those who’ve seen through the mortal world?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did Jingchen before death still dress herself up?”

Yan Sanhe suddenly asked, “Someone who’s seen through the mortal world shouldn’t be like that!”

Huiru choked, her face turning slightly ashen.

Yan Sanhe looked at her coldly, though her tone was quite gentle. “No rush—you can slowly tell me the answer later.”

Huiru was silent briefly, then nodded.

The two in front stopped talking. The two behind connected through eye contact.

Pei Xiao: Xie Wushi, have you noticed—the spirit medium Yan is completely different with men versus women.

Xie Zhifei: Mm!

Pei Xiao: Back then with my uncle, she showed no pleasant expression.

Xie Zhifei: Oh!

Pei Xiao: Tell me—could she dislike men and prefer women?

—

Xie Zhifei: Ah?

Pei Xiao: Ah what? Be serious—this concerns my lifelong matters!

Xie Zhifei’s patience had reached its limit. He hooked his arm around Pei Xiao’s neck, voice low.

“Pei Mingting, I’m telling you very seriously—I left a pile of business to run to Water Moon Nunnery, not to hear your nonsense. Watch the person properly.”

The person meant Yan Sanhe.

Xu Sheng, that grandson, repeatedly tried to move against Yan Sanhe because he was fixated.

Men’s thoughts—men understand. The more unobtainable, the more it weighs on one’s mind.

Moreover, that grandson became a eunuch because of Yan Sanhe. This fixation had probably long since transformed into bone-deep hatred.

Pei Xiao silently rolled his eyes at him.

Nonsense!

If not for his wife’s safety, would he come to this cursed place to suffer!

He, Lord Pei, hated eating vegetarian meals most in this lifetime.

…

The vegetarian meal was indeed very simple—four vegetable dishes, one bowl of thin congee, two steamed buns per person.

After eating, Huiru spoke a few words to the young nun beside her, then picked up a white lantern and led everyone from Water Moon Nunnery’s back gate.

“The burial ground is halfway up the mountain. Water Moon Nunnery’s deceased nuns are all buried there—convenient for Qingming grave visits and Zhongyuan paper burning.”

Yan Sanhe asked, “Do their family members come to visit graves?”

Huiru choked again. She discovered this Miss Yan’s questions were all beyond expectation yet within reason.

“They won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Some lived alone their whole lives; some severed ties with family; some were abandoned by family…”

Huiru sighed. “Miss Yan, this humble nun’s words about all being women of bitter fate weren’t false. Without encountering unbearably painful matters, how could one achieve great enlightenment and enter Buddhist gates?”

From this, Jingchen’s heart demon should lie in the mortal world—Yan Sanhe made this judgment based on these few sentences.

Half an hour later, Water Moon Nunnery’s burial ground appeared before everyone.

This time, not only did Pei Xiao feel his scalp tingle, even the usually bold Xie Zhifei broke out in goosebumps—

Half the entire mountain slope was filled with nun graves, one after another.

Amitabha!

Pei Xiao clutched Xie Zhifei’s arm tightly.

Fortunately today I brought Five Emperor Coins, Diamond Sutra, and ghost-repelling talismans all together. Otherwise, with my pure yang body, I couldn’t suppress this evil at all.

Among numerous old graves, one new grave appeared extremely conspicuous.

Yan Sanhe pointed. “Is it that one?”

Huiru confirmed, “Yes.”

Yan Sanhe and Li Buyan exchanged a glance. Li Buyan blew out the lantern in her hand with one breath, then tossed it toward Xie Zhifei.

“Third Master, catch.”

As Xie Zhifei caught the lantern, a certain pure yang lord had already jumped onto his back.

With this cowardly behavior, still wanting to match Yan Sanhe?

A mischievous smile curved Xie Zhifei’s lips as he thought: Brother, I’m not competing with you—realize the difficulty and retreat yourself!

“Miss, I’ll go down first.”

Li Buyan leaped down, exerting force with her hands to simply pry open the coffin lid that hadn’t been closed to begin with.

Jingchen’s corpse lay exposed beneath the pale moonlight, her gray nun’s robe glowing eerily in the wan moonlight.

Her face was covered with a layer of something like black fog yet not quite fog, black smoke yet not quite smoke. Her appearance in life couldn’t be discerned at all.

My Guanyin Bodhisattva!

My Tathagata Buddha!

My Bodhi Great Immortal!

Pei Xiao no longer dared look, only calling out to various deities in his heart.

But Xie Zhifei’s eyes stared unblinkingly at that mass of black fog.

Not because he was bold—having followed Yan Sanhe twice to resolve obsessions and dispel demons, he suddenly felt that sometimes ghosts were kinder than humans, at least they wouldn’t harm people.

“Miss!” Li Buyan extended her hand.

Yan Sanhe grasped it, borrowing the force from her hand to lightly jump.

Landing steadily, she rolled up her sleeves and reached her hand into the coffin.

The black fog originally coiled on Jingchen’s face suddenly wrapped around Yan Sanhe’s forearm.

Unlike Old Lady Ji’s black fog, Jingchen’s seemed gentler, gradually enveloping Yan Sanhe bit by bit.

Ice-cold blood rushed straight to Xie Zhifei’s brain.

Last time he and Pei Mingting hid far away, only seeing a general outline. This time being so close, that mass of black fog appeared to his eyes as dragging Yan Sanhe into endless hell.

He clenched his fist hard, restraining himself from crying out in alarm.

“Jingchen, don’t be afraid—it’s me.”

Yan Sanhe’s voice was gentle as water, like lovers’ murmurs. “Come, tell me what you still cannot let go!”

She covered her hand over Jingchen’s eyes, slowly closing her own.

Everyone held their breath hard, not daring to exhale, gazes fixed deadly on Yan Sanhe.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

Yan Sanhe’s originally relaxed brow furrowed tighter and tighter. As her brow furrowed, an extremely strange expression appeared on her face.