Everyone listened with hearts trembling in fear, not daring to breathe too loudly or blink, all gazes fixed on the old monk alone.
“The moment I examined this girl’s bones, she was eight years old. Old General Zheng’s children would certainly have lived in the capital.”
The old monk paused for quite a while.
“In these past ten-plus years, people who could perform the Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles—as far as I know in all of Hua Kingdom—numbered only a sparse two. In the capital, there was only one: Shen Duruo. It must have been Shen Duruo who performed the needles on her.”
Miraculous!
Miraculous!
Xie Zhifei blurted out: “Shen Duruo was her biological mother. Yan Sanhe was born without breath—it was Shen Duruo who used the Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles to save her and bring her back.”
The old monk’s eyes suddenly widened: “Shen Duruo truly was her biological mother?”
Xie Zhifei: “Absolutely certain.”
The old monk murmured: “No wonder, no wonder…”
Xie Zhifei asked urgently: “Master, no wonder what?”
“No wonder she still carried an extremely rare yang energy. No wonder when she knelt before me, my body felt as if countless fine needles were simultaneously piercing into me—unbearably painful.”
The old monk looked at the person in the coffin, murmuring softly: “Child, the one who truly saved your life was your mother, Shen Duruo!”
Hearing this, Xie Zhifei could no longer maintain his kneeling position. He scrambled to his feet and walked before the old monk.
“Master, please explain to us in detail—what exactly is going on?”
“What’s called yang energy is the energy of the living.”
The old monk looked up at Xie Zhifei: “Child, I ask you—where does the energy of the living come from?”
Xie Zhifei: “Naturally from living people.”
The old monk: “I ask you again—what constitutes a living person?”
Xie Zhifei hesitated. “Someone who can eat and drink, walk and sleep, full of life and vigor—such a person is called living.”
The old monk: “What did Shen Duruo do?”
Xie Zhifei: “She was a traveling physician, a doctor who treated people’s illnesses and saved lives.”
The old monk: “Treating illnesses and saving lives—isn’t that making people able to eat and drink, walk and sleep, full of life and vigor?”
“Your meaning is…”
Xie Zhifei spoke somewhat hesitatingly: “Through treating illnesses and saving lives, she accumulated countless amounts of living people’s energy…”
“It can also be called merit.”
The old monk slowly continued the thought. “Saving one life is better than building a seven-story pagoda. She practiced medicine her entire life and could perform the Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles. Calculate for yourself—how many lives did she save in her lifetime? How much merit did she accumulate?”
Speaking to here, the old monk smiled lightly and casually.
“Child, the merit she accumulated has already extended to you. Otherwise…” would you even exist?
Xie Zhifei listened in a daze, listened in shock.
All these years he never understood why, when all the Zheng family died, his soul alone fell into Third Master Xie’s body.
Was it only because he and Third Master were both ghost fetuses?
Turns out, no.
It was Shen Duruo.
That supremely intelligent woman, obsessed with medicine, aloof and proud—she used the deep merit accumulated from a lifetime of practicing medicine to exchange for him a chance to be reborn as a human.
“The girl’s body carries yin energy, yang energy, and heavenly energy. Yin can form things, yang can give birth to things, heaven can nourish things. As the saying goes: yin alone cannot give birth, yang alone cannot give birth, heaven alone cannot give birth—only the union of three can create life.”
His hand fell on the coffin, rubbing it forcefully.
“This is also the true reason why the girl still has a trace of weak pulse.”
The old monk turned around. Seeing everyone’s faces still completely blank, he simply continued:
“To put it plainly, the girl’s father, the girl’s mother, and all the merit her parents accumulated in their lifetimes—all fell upon her alone.
Especially her mother Shen Duruo, who saved countless people throughout her life. This merit is something I, this old monk, couldn’t match even cultivating another hundred years. Therefore, I couldn’t receive the girl’s bow.
It so happened the girl was also a child saved by the Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles, so this child received protection from the three spirits of heaven, earth, and ghosts.
Humans have three ethereal souls and seven corporeal souls. The three spirits of heaven, earth, and ghosts joined forces to protect one soul and one corporeal soul of this child, preserving for her a thread of life.”
The old monk snorted: “Did you all understand?”
They all understood.
And all were shocked senseless.
Silence.
A silence that weighed heavily on everyone’s hearts.
This silence wasn’t for Yan Sanhe’s miraculous background and experiences, but only for that Shen Duruo who wandered outside for half her life and finally died under the Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles.
Shen Duruo kept her promise, using her entire life to atone for herself, to pray for blessings for her child, to pray for blessings for the Zheng family who raised the child.
Xie Zhifei felt his tears about to surge out uncontrollably again.
“The name Sanhe—Master, you helped choose it, didn’t you?”
“It was chosen by Yan Xing.”
The old monk: “Yan Xing said since she received protection from the three spirits of heaven, earth, and ghosts, let’s call her Sanhe. From now on, she’ll be my child.
I calculated with my fingers—this name is unprecedentedly good.
Among the myriad people in this world, only she can bear the weight of this name, and only this name can continuously nourish her like heaven, earth, and all things.”
Another long silence.
Not one person dared to speak. Everyone’s gaze fixed on that coffin. Between each breath in and out, only one thought remained in their minds:
So she truly is different from us ordinary people—even her name has profound meaning.
“This is the answer to the second question: why Yan Sanhe still retains a trace of weak pulse.”
Having finished speaking, the old monk sat back in his chair, picked up the tea cup, and drank it down in one gulp.
Xuyun received the empty tea cup, refilled it with hot water, and placed it by the old monk’s hand.
The old monk tapped his pipe on the edge of the table, knocking out the ash residue inside. “Lord Pei, what’s the next question?”
Lord Pei’s mind was completely blank. He squeezed out a smile uglier than crying.
“Master, don’t rush—let us catch our breath first.”
Ordinary people’s lives consisted of eating, drinking, defecating, sleeping, marrying, having children, sending off the old, raising the young.
An experience as magnificent and turbulent as Yan Sanhe’s—few could listen without their hearts pounding.
“You need to catch your breath already?”
The old monk curved his lips in a smile. “Lord Pei, we’ve barely scratched the surface!”
Aiya, mother of mine!
Pei Xiao wailed inwardly, cleared his throat, and said:
“The next question is: Yan Sanhe is clearly already a dead person, so why could she still live like a normal person—able to walk and run, eat and sleep, living in this mortal world?”
“This matter is also a long story. We must return to the ninth day of the ninth month.”
The old monk: “That day, when I discovered three streams of energy surrounding Yan Sanhe’s body, I asked Yan Xing how he knew to come find me.
Yan Xing said he didn’t think at all—my image just floated into his mind. Without wasting a moment, he rushed straight here.
I asked him again if he’d thought about whether I would or wouldn’t help save her.
Yan Xing said he hadn’t thought about it at all. In his heart, he just had a feeling that if this child reached my hands, she would live.”
Finishing these words, the old monk looked up at Pei Xiao: “Lord Pei, what does this indicate?”
Lord Pei felt he was about to go mad again. With so many people in this room, why pick on him alone?
He shook his head. “Don’t know.”
“I know.”
Xie Zhifei: “You said before that you secretly calculated a divination for Yan Xing—he came to help you achieve perfect merit?”
The old monk’s eyes instantly brightened.