Zhongli actually raised his teacup, his wide sleeves hiding the emotions in his eyes.
"If there is no shortage, why would I come to you in advance?"
Yikong was clear-eyed and calm, and knew that there was a reason for everything. He did not ask any further questions and refilled the empty teacup with hot tea.
"Don't blame me, sir. I thought you had improved your cultivation skills and picked one just to test yourself."
Zhongli actually put down his teacup, his lips curled up slightly: "You are a cultivator, how can you speak so sarcastically?"
Yikong clasped his hands together, his eyes clear and harmless. "It seems that I haven't learned the Chizhou dialect well yet, so I caused you to misunderstand me."
This is the jackal versus the fox. When it comes to talking back at people, they are always evenly matched.
The two looked at each other for a moment, then looked away tacitly, as if nothing had happened.
"It's getting late, let's get started."
Yikong said no more, took out a bundle of torn scriptures wrapped in red cloth from the box, took the butter lamp beside it and placed it on the small table, then spread out the scriptures.
On the palm leaves were ancient characters as small as a fly's head, which were the original language of Buddhism. Wrapped in this long scroll was another object, a black metal pestle with many evil spirits and Yamas carved on it, which looked a bit scary.
Zhongli actually took a look at the pitch-black magic weapon. Although he saw it every time, he still felt a little awkward.
"Do you really have to put a murder weapon next to me to scare me?"
Yikong smiled and placed the demon-subduing pestle close at hand where he could reach it at any time: "I have seen your ability, young master. Although there has been no mistakes before, it is better to be on the safe side."
The man was silent for a moment, and surprisingly, he didn't say anything else. He took off the Buddhist beads from his wrist and placed them on the table in front of him.
Yikong flipped open the first chapter of the sutra and said slowly, "Before we begin, I'd like to bother you with a few words. You've worn those twenty-one relics for years, and now that one is missing, it will be somewhat affected."
The man closed his eyes and said, "I'm in control of my own situation."
Yikong placed his hand on the man's head in front of him: "I am just reminding you. Whether your heart is still at peace, only you know it."
The low sound of chanting rang out, and the ancient Buddhist scriptures echoed, swirled, and rose in the hall, and finally floated into the dark night sky through the small window.
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