Without fate, there’s no gathering?

Everyone in the room was shocked, gazes all turning in unison toward the person in the coffin, each secretly asking themselves:

Did I come to form ties with her, or to conclude ties with her?

After a long while, Xie Zhifei, gripping a palm full of cold sweat, asked: “Master, returning to the original topic—how could she walk and jump, eat and drink like a living person?”

Li Buyan: “Did you use some kind of spell?”

Pei Xiao: “Was it borrowing a corpse to return the soul?”

The old monk’s face had been quite calm, but upon hearing the four words “borrowing a corpse to return the soul,” it visibly cracked apart.

He covered his eyes, seemingly not wanting to see certain stupid humans.

At this moment, Xuyun passed over the tea cup again.

The old monk accepted it, drank half the cup, then set it down.

“Disciple, you explain to them one by one for your master.”

“Yes!”

Xuyun stepped forward, standing steadily beside the old monk.

“My master borrowed ten years of life to her, which allowed Miss Yan to bounce around like a normal person.”

What?

What?

What?

Everyone’s eyes widened bit by bit, wider and wider, finally widening until their eyeballs nearly burst out.

Each character of this sentence was comprehensible, but strung together—what did it mean?

Suddenly, Xie Zhifei gripped the armrests and stood up, walking step by step to the old monk’s side, slowly crouching down.

“Master Xuyun’s meaning is that you… you loaned ten years of your lifespan to Yan Sanhe, letting her live bouncing around for ten years?”

The old monk lifted his eyelids, meeting Xie Zhifei’s eyes. “Otherwise?”

In a lifetime, how many ten-year periods can one have?

Xie Zhifei’s heart palpitated to the extreme, even his lips trembling. “Ten years of life—were you willing? Did you accept it?”

“Still just a common mortal!”

The old monk sighed and shook his head, pointing at his own body.

“What is this? Just a skin, an empty shell, false, illusory.

What is lifespan? Just numbers, also empty, false, illusory.

Clinging to the physical shell, trapped by the physical shell; clinging to lifespan, trapped by lifespan—how can there be freedom?

I said before, my lifelong pursuit was to suppress my innate demonic nature and cultivate into Buddha.

I cultivated for many, many years, yet the demonic nature remained. I couldn’t understand it at all.

But when I decided to loan life to Yan Sanhe, not only did my heart hold not the slightest reluctance, it felt joyful and free instead. The demonic nature vanished at once.

Only then did I understand: circumstances have no good or bad—good and bad arise from the heart. Actually, this world has neither Buddha nor demon—Buddha and demon are both conjured by one’s own heart.

I finally achieved true great freedom, great perfection.”

A gentle smile slowly bloomed on his withered face.

“Child, saving others is saving oneself; saving oneself is also saving others.

I loaned her ten years of life, letting her resolve her own heart demons. She helped me attain true freedom and perfection.

In the end, I gained the advantage. Moreover…”

The old monk’s voice was unspeakably calm: “If I don’t enter hell, who will?”

This time, Xie Zhifei’s tears truly surged out. Without another word, he knelt and knocked his head three times—bang, bang, bang.

He was just a common mortal. He didn’t understand what freedom was, what perfection was. But he understood one thing—

Without Master Changyue’s intervention, Yan Sanhe wouldn’t have had these ten years of life, nor could she possibly have resolved her own heart demons.

“Master, now that the one hundred eighty wronged souls have dispersed, even Old General Zheng’s cause of death has been thoroughly investigated—by rights, Yan Sanhe’s two ethereal souls and six corporeal souls should return, making her a normal person.”

Xie Zhifei: “Why did she suddenly die again?”

“Right, right, right.”

Li Buyan was most concerned: “What does that incense stick mean?”

Young Master Pei: “Could there still be some grievance in the Zheng family case?”

The old monk glanced at Xuyun beside him. Xuyun continued:

“That incense stick was counting down—counting the final moments of Yan Sanhe’s borrowed life. From the fifteenth day of the seventh month of Yonghe Year Eight until early this morning—exactly ten years.”

This single sentence completely stopped everyone’s breathing in the room.

“That day my master was meditating when his heart suddenly ached. He calculated with his fingers and discovered that incense was still burning down.”

Xuyun glanced at Xie Zhifei: “By rights, once the Zheng family matter concluded, that incense should have extinguished.”

Xie Zhifei’s body suddenly straightened. “What was the reason?”

Xuyun: “My master also found it strange, so he divined her fortune and calamity for her, discovering it was great calamity. So he hurriedly descended the mountain and rushed straight to the capital.”

Pei Xiao immediately interjected: “Didn’t you say dead people can’t have fortune and calamity divined?”

“Dead people can’t have fortune and calamity divined, but…”

Xuyun: “These ten years of lifespan were loaned to her by my master. My master divining his own fortune and calamity—naturally accurate every time.”

Pei Xiao: “…”

Fine, whatever you say goes. Anyway, this young master is confused again.

“Then…”

Xie Zhifei looked at the old monk with trepidation: “Master, you hurried down the mountain for Yan Sanhe. So far, have you found the true reason?”

The old monk: “Didn’t you all just see it?”

Xie Zhifei froze: “See what?”

Done for—just like Lord Pei, also become not so sharp.

He’d said it before, hadn’t he?

Where were their brains?

Or was it that the impact of event after event was too great, shocking them all into stupidity?

The old monk said helplessly: “First, her coffin won’t close. Second, when I reached into the coffin, another layer of black energy surged up…”

“Besides those one hundred eighty wronged souls, she has another heart demon?” Xie Zhifei blurted out.

“What is her heart demon?” Li Buyan and Young Master Pei blurted out simultaneously.

Zhu Qing, Ding Yi, and Huang Qi looked at each other. The three nervously clenched their fists one by one.

Xie Zhifei reached out his hand, gripping Master Changyue’s arm tightly, asking nervously:

“Master, when the black fog rose just now, what did you see inside it? You must have seen something, right?”

“I smelled it.”

“Smelled?”

Xie Zhifei froze. “What did you smell?”

The old monk closed his eyes, seemingly savoring the scent he’d just detected.

After a long while, he said softly: “A fragrance of osmanthus flowers.”

Yan Sanhe’s heart demon was a fragrance of osmanthus flowers?

Li Buyan looked at Pei Xiao.

Pei Xiao, face deathly pale, thought: Why are you looking at me, lady? Right now my brain is stuffed with a huge ball of cotton—I’m completely confused.

Li Buyan looked at Xie Zhifei.

Xie Zhifei stared blankly for quite a while, thinking: Haitang Courtyard only had crabapple trees, no osmanthus. How could her heart demon be an osmanthus fragrance?

Seeing neither of them responding, Li Buyan simply squeezed out a dry smile at the old monk.

“Master, great master, immortal…”

She took a deep breath, deciding to shamelessly copy Young Master Pei’s approach.

“Since you’ve discerned her heart demon, couldn’t you conveniently help resolve it for her?”

The old monk raised an eyebrow, widened his eyes, then looked up at his own disciple with an expression of utmost grievance.

Indeed, utterly shameless!

The disciple coughed once, saying steadily: “My master said before—Buddhist practitioners don’t interfere with others’ causes and effects.”

Li Buyan: “Then who will help her resolve it?”

Xuyun’s gaze swept over Li Buyan, swept over Pei Xiao, swept over Xie Zhifei, finally bringing his hands together.

“Amitabha!”

What did he mean?

The three looked at each other, finally simultaneously forming the same thought in their minds—

We resolve it???