Yin Bansi was finally completely trapped in the memories of the past.
He still remembered his experiences over the next decade or so, but those bland memories were like a play or a picture album, flowing through his mind like running water, without causing him any more fluctuations or memories.
If he endures for one, two, or three years, he will eventually be saved, and decent people will eradicate this sect full of beasts in a few years.
The leader, on the high platform, used his own spirit to ignite a dark blue flame. Even before the last wisp of his soul was extinguished, his exaggerated laughter echoed throughout the pavilion. What was infuriating was that this madman never realized he had done anything wrong until his death.
When Yin Bansi was released from the heavily confined room, he happened to pass by the head of the middle-aged monk who presided over the ceremony. He paused for a moment, then used all his strength to kick the head several feet away.
This sect, which advocated for "nature," even had its members wearing linen robes and straw sandals. A Saint whose daily role was to maintain freshness and be slaughtered at any moment certainly didn't receive much good treatment. At least when Yin Bansi was released from his room, Zhengdao still thought he was just an ordinary child with a burn on his face.
They planned to send all the injured mortals back to the human world, give them some extra silver, and try to prevent them from being greatly affected by the affairs of the cultivation world so that they could return to live a good life. Yin Bansi had already infiltrated the mortal group, but just as he was about to make his move, he was recognized by a cult member who had stayed behind to serve as a spy.
It was too easy to recognize Yin Bansi. He had such a distinctive appearance, his vitality was so tenacious, and his flesh and blood were as inexhaustible as a stream. It was difficult to find a monk in the sect who had not received his "favor".
Just before stepping onto the teleportation array to the human world, Yin Bansi was pulled out by the arm.
The grip of these righteous individuals was quite strong, and it didn't seem as if they were any less gentle due to their reputation as a reputable sect. Yin Bansi heard two consecutive cracking sounds from his arm, the sound of his shoulder dislocating and then automatically healing.
In short, it took some time for the decent people to figure out that this seemingly shabby young boy "Holy Son" was also a victim, not some scheming conspirator. But given Yin Bansi's special experience and special functions, they felt that Yin Bansi was too hot to handle.
A child carrying gold through the market would face this embarrassing situation, not to mention that Yin Bansi himself is much more valuable than gold.
Finally, it was the Buddhist Zen Master Jingci who took over Yin Bansi's care. He tried to influence Yin Bansi with Buddhist teachings, and recited the Heart Sutra to Yin Bansi continuously for eighteen days.
Rumor has it that Master Jingci, who has practiced silent meditation for many years, has profound Buddhist knowledge. The last time he opened his mouth to chant was fifty years ago. Not only did he avert a major war, but because it was summer at the time, all the mosquitoes on the battlefield grew golden wings and turned to a vegetarian diet, refusing to touch meat or blood.
His scriptures could even change the color and living habits of mosquitoes, but they couldn't shake Yin Bansi.
Master Jingci sat cross-legged before Yin Bansi, his hands clasped before his chest, his eyelids drooping. Beneath these drooping lids, his gaze held a glint of compassion. He was such a kind and amiable man, his kindness emanating from nearly every pore of this master. Someone once threw themselves at his feet and burst into tears upon meeting him for the first time, but the young Yin Bansi only responded with a sinister stare.
"So, what's the market price you're going to sell me for?"
Jingci said slowly: "Little Tanyue..."
"Are you going to tell me again about sacrificing yourself to feed a tiger or cutting off your flesh to feed an eagle?" Yin Bansi asked coldly, warily, and sarcastically, "The buyer has gone from being a human to an animal. Will my value drop so much in the future?"
Master Jingci was not the kind of monk who was good at arguing about Buddhist teachings or making witty remarks. He was choked twice by Yin Bansi and finally became speechless.
Years later, Yin Bansi was able to disorient Luo Jiujiang, a former crosstalk artist, with a single sentence, proving his prowess was as strong as ever. The bloody and muddy experiences of his childhood had ultimately fermented into a tangled mess within him, and who knew what they were.
Master Jingci finally declared that he was powerless against Yin Bandi, but he rejected the suggestion of everyone to press Yin Bandi into the nine-story pagoda for purification and suppression, and instead entrusted him to Gong Yizhu.
Yin Bansi still remembered that day, standing in a corner with his arms folded, silently awaiting the outcome of his trial. His eyes swept calmly across the faces of everyone present, making sure he memorized every one—just as he had memorized the faces of every believer in previous sacrifices.
No one noticed Yin Bansi's thoughts. Even when he recalled it many years later, he had forgotten the meaning of his actions. However, he was at least certain that his original purpose of remembering people's faces was not with any good intentions.
As the saying goes, "A red rose becomes redder, a black rose becomes blacker." From the ashes, only debris can be found. The inky black sea roams filled with misshapen, distorted creatures, so ugly they hurt the eyes. Don't you see, even after thousands of years, the only symbol of purity, the lotus flower, remains untainted by the muddy waters. Yin Bansi didn't harm anyone back then simply because he lacked the status and ability, not because he was a good person.
In short, the ghostly Yin Bansi finally waited for a man, a man in blue clothes who was extremely handsome and whom he had never seen before and could not even imagine in his poor life experience.
Everything in this madman's sect was simple, and Master Jingci, a highly accomplished monk, always disdained fine robes. This directly led to the fact that when Yin Bansi and Gong Yizhu met eyes, he was still wearing the wrinkled and torn dusty linen robe stained with black and smelly blood.
My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It will be even more exciting later!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com