Kong Hou wanted to say she wasn’t, so that once this matter was resolved, she could quietly leave. However, the woman’s eyes were so bright—bright like a moth drawn to flame, desperately grasping at the last thread of hope. Kong Hou thought that if she shook her head at this moment, she would become the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

She sighed softly and nodded gently. “I am.”

“It’s Princess Her Highness, it’s Immortal Fairy Kong Hou, she’s come to save us!” In the crowd, someone shouted loudly. This shout was like tinder igniting dry wood, causing those who had been dull and numb to slowly awaken.

“The fairy has come to save us?”

“I… I’m saved?”

A burly man rushed home crying and roaring, embracing his two children as he wept. After waiting so long, hoping for so long, Immortal Fairy Kong Hou had finally heard their prayers and descended from the heavens to save them.

Watching the people cry and laugh simultaneously, Huan Zong discovered that the malevolent energy in the sky seemed to have thinned slightly. Although it wasn’t very obvious, with his cultivation level, he could clearly sense it.

These mortals were clearly surrounded by the terror and resentment of death—why was it that when given a sliver of hope for life, they could burst forth with such powerful strength? Were mortals truly so resilient and unyielding, able to survive simply by grasping onto hope?

The Ten Thousand Bones Array used human resentment and unwillingness as its catalyst, with mountains and rivers as its formation corners—such an array was indeed indestructible. If it had been him ten years ago…

Huan Zong lowered his eyelids. In the past, he had felt that whether his spiritual platform could be restored should be left to fate, but Kong Hou’s years still stretched so long ahead—what about his own?

“Huan Zong.” Kong Hou tugged at his sleeve. “I’ll draw that small formation inside the formation eye for you to see.”

“Good.” Facing Kong Hou who trusted him wholeheartedly, the corners of Huan Zong’s eyes and brows were filled with tenderness.

As a beginner who had just started learning various formations, Kong Hou’s advantage was her excellent memory. This was a talent she’d had since birth—she had learned characters faster than others since childhood, and after a teacher lectured once, she could recite most of it.

She quickly drew a simple formation on paper for Huan Zong. “What is this?”

“It’s a Soul-Capturing Array.” Huan Zong’s expression became extremely ugly. These evil cultivators not only used human resentment as a catalyst but were also collecting their souls entirely—did they want to use their souls to refine magical artifacts?

Humans needed their souls to reincarnate. If after death their souls were taken and refined into evil artifacts that harmed others, they would never be able to achieve rebirth.

Kong Hou roughly guessed the evil cultivators’ intentions. Her chest tightened, and her internal injuries that hadn’t fully healed were aggravated by this surge of emotion, causing her to cough up a mouthful of blood.

Warm, comfortable spiritual energy soothed the stagnant qi at her heart, and a warm palm pressed against her back like the most powerful support.

“Wipe it off.” Huan Zong handed a handkerchief to Kong Hou. Kong Hou took the handkerchief Huan Zong gave her and wiped clean the corners of her mouth, then turned to see that although the common people stood in the distance, none of them had left.

Kong Hou wiped the corners of her mouth. Huan Zong sighed, took the handkerchief from her hand, and went to wipe her cheeks. The moment the handkerchief reached Huan Zong’s hand, it seemed to absorb moisture, becoming somewhat cool and somewhat moist. But Huan Zong’s movements were very gentle, and Kong Hou felt her face was both cool and ticklish.

She twisted her face. Huan Zong smiled and said, “Don’t move.”

“Oh.” Kong Hou puffed out her cheeks and turned her face toward Huan Zong, making it easier for him to wipe.

Looking so obedient, one couldn’t tell at all that just moments ago she had dared to break into the formation alone, bring out the Longyin Sword, and even use it. A sword cultivator’s natal sword belonged uniquely to that cultivator. No matter how powerful a sword was, in someone else’s hands it was no different from a vegetable cleaver. He had seen the golden dragon phantom in the formation, which meant Kong Hou had not only wielded this sword but had even unleashed its power. A natal sword that had awakened its spiritual intelligence shouldn’t behave this way.

“Lin Hu.” After wiping Kong Hou’s face clean, Huan Zong said, “Take out the golden kāśyapa that Monk Fatan gave me.”

“Young Master, what is your intention?” Lin Hu didn’t understand—weren’t they preparing to break the formation? Why were they summoning monks now?

“Deliverance.” Huan Zong looked up at the black energy filling the sky, his expression blank. “The dead carry unwillingness and resentment. What if all of that were gone?”

“Monk Fatan’s Buddhist teachings are boundless, and he can naturally deliver people and souls. However, the cities affected by this formation are not limited to just this one. I’m afraid he alone won’t be able to manage it all.” Lin Hu said, “Should we invite several more?”

Lin Hu hesitated for a moment. “Very well.”

Lingyou Realm, Qingjing Temple.

Although it was also one of the ten great sects of Lingyou Realm, Qingjing Temple rarely participated in Lingyou Realm affairs. Though this group of monks always chanted about how there were wrathful vajra guardians before Buddha, cultivators born in Lingyou Realm in the past two hundred years had never seen these monks raise their hands to strike anyone.

Qingjing Temple was extremely quiet, just like its name—isolated from the world, pure and carefree.

The cry of a crane cut through the vast sky. Some monks curiously looked up—why had a crane flown to their place? Dao cultivators favored cranes; their Buddhist cultivators didn’t venerate cranes as celestial creatures.

The crane traced an arc through the air and flew directly into the abbot’s courtyard.

Meditating, Monk Fatan heard the sound of the crane flapping its wings. He opened his eyes and spread his palm, and a golden kāśyapa fell into his hand. In nearly five hundred years, he had given away five golden kāśyapas, and the other four had long since returned to his hand.

He had originally thought this golden kāśyapa would never be used, but unexpectedly it had ultimately returned to his hand.

“So be it.” He straightened his monk’s robe, took his prayer beads and staff, and said to the disciple outside the door, “Have the martial brothers of the Xuan generation come with me.”

“Yes.”

In the Mortal Realm, the evil cultivator formation master hidden in the shadows saw that the power of the Ten Thousand Bones Array had weakened slightly and frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Venerable One, the emperor of the Mortal Realm has invited cultivators.” The evil cultivator who had gone out to gather information said, “It should be that cultivator who has taken action.”

“A cultivator?” The formation master was somewhat puzzled. “Those righteous sect cultivators emphasize natural cycles and won’t easily interfere in Mortal Realm affairs. Moreover, before I came, you said there were no righteous sect cultivators stationed in this realm. How long has it been, and cultivators have already arrived?”

“It’s said that a former princess of this realm became a disciple of Yunhua Sect. Perhaps unable to bear seeing the common people suffer, she took it upon herself to come to Lingyou Realm.” The evil cultivator who responded hadn’t expected a former princess who was still cultivating would run out. He said in a low voice, “This princess has only been in Lingyou Realm for seven or eight years. Her cultivation isn’t profound. Wanting to break the formation you’ve set up, Venerable One, is undoubtedly a fool’s dream.”

“Overestimating her abilities.” The formation master sneered coldly. “She’s just a little princess who doesn’t know the immensity of heaven and earth. Since she wants to meddle in other people’s business, let her die together with these common people—at least she won’t be lonely in the future.”

“One hundred thousand resentful souls—how many more are needed?”

“Two thousand.”

“Very soon.” The formation master looked up at the sky, his eyes full of mockery. “I want to see what kind of ugly behavior those sanctimonious famous sect cultivators will display before this magical artifact.”

The news that Princess Kong Hou had returned from the heavens to save the common people quickly spread to several nearby cities, and countless common folk wept with their heads in their hands, crying that they were finally saved.

In their view, immortals were omnipotent.

However, the omnipotent fairy in their hearts was currently sitting on a cloud, her face full of disbelief.

“So, I just faced all those common people with a dirty face?” Kong Hou looked at herself in the mirror for quite a while. Huan Zong had already helped her wipe her face clean, but thinking about how she had unknowingly embarrassed herself just now, she felt dejected.

She didn’t want centuries from now for the Mortal Realm, when mentioning her as a princess who had already “become an immortal,” to remember her as a fairy with red marks on her face who wasn’t pretty enough.

“It’s fine. Once the formation is broken, you can dress up beautifully and leave before their eyes.” Huan Zong smiled. All young ladies loved beauty, but even when Kong Hou loved beauty, she was adorably charming.

“Then that’s all I can do.” Before the formation was even broken, Kong Hou had already started thinking about what clothes to wear when leaving, what kind of hairstyle to arrange, to ensure that centuries from now, when the common people of the Mortal Realm mentioned her, they would still praise how beautiful she was.

Huan Zong smiled and turned his head to look west, standing up from the cloud. “They’re here.”

“What’s here?” Kong Hou also stood up. She hadn’t seen anyone.

Before long, a brilliant cloud appeared in the western sky. Within the splendid clouds, several bald monks came treading on lotus platforms. The leading monk had kind eyebrows and gentle eyes, wearing only a simple blue robe, but the staff in his hand radiated waves of Buddhist light, looking very much like it could strike one who came alone or two who came together.

“Zhong…”

“Monk Fatan, I’ve come at my Young Master Huan Zong’s command to trouble you with this journey. Many thanks.” Lin Hu flashed before Fatan, pressing his palms together. “Please.”

“Please.” Fatan smiled and walked through the air to stand before Huan Zong. “Not having seen you in many years, young friend, have you changed your mind?”

Kong Hou looked at the monk’s smooth bald head, then looked at Huan Zong with confusion. Changed what mind?

“Thank you for your regard, Master, but I feel Liuguang Sect is quite good.” Huan Zong’s expression didn’t change.

“What a pity, what a pity.” Fatan shook his head and sighed. “Young friend has excellent spiritual roots and an affinity with Buddha. Why must you be a sword cultivator engaged in fighting and killing?”

Kong Hou watched, dumbstruck. In broad daylight, she truly hadn’t expected that this great monk, who appeared to have kind eyebrows and gentle eyes, was actually trying to recruit people away from Liuguang Sect!

“Buddha is merciful. This young friend has fine features.” Fatan bowed to Kong Hou, who hastily returned a deep bow. “Master flatters me too much.”

“This poor monk never speaks falsely. I observe that young friend has clear eyes and refined features, with a face showing compassion and benevolence. Why not enter our Buddhist order and attain the fruit of Bodhisattva?” Fatan hadn’t expected to encounter another Buddhist cultivation prospect again. “What does young friend think?”

Kong Hou: “…”

Was the situation for Buddhist cultivators in Lingyou Realm very difficult? Why were they poaching talent from other sects everywhere?

“Thank you, Master, but this junior has already become a disciple of Yunhua Sect. In this life, I’m unwilling to betray my sect. I ask for Master’s understanding.”

Becoming a monk was impossible—she would never consider such a possibility in this lifetime, not when it meant shaving her head bald.

“Then this poor monk can only ask again next time.” Fatan lifted his blue robe and sat down, tossing his staff into the air. The entire sky was illuminated.

The other disciples sat cross-legged one after another and began their dharma protection.

Kong Hou didn’t understand Buddhism, but when Monk Fatan spoke the first Buddhist phrase, she felt the entire world quiet down. The sky was so vast, the earth so broad—what couldn’t be let go of?

She turned her head to look at Huan Zong and immediately became clearheaded.

Buddha spoke of beauty as withered bones—she probably couldn’t comprehend this in this lifetime.

Clearly, she had no affinity with Buddha.