Chapter 11: Unexpected Windfall

In the black night, moonlight shone before the abandoned temple gate.

Crash!

A thunderous bang of the door crashing open echoed through the mountains, startling countless birds into flight.

Several figures dashed out of the abandoned temple one after another.

The county constables surrounding the temple erupted into chaos; the lead man slashed one constable down with his blade, broke through the encirclement, and sprinted straight down the mountain.

Han Qin and the other three Huaqing Sect disciples followed closely behind.

“Chase!”

Only then did Chief Liu cry out sharply.

The constables scrambled to draw their waist swords and chased after them down the mountain.

Soon, silence returned to the front of the abandoned temple.

Li Rui narrowed his eyes slightly, recalling the expression on the man’s face as he fled amid the pursuit.

“Injured a fellow disciple. Stole Elder Ma’s secret technique.”

The boy Zhou Hu’s words echoed in his ears.

Something’s hidden inside the temple!

That Huaqing Sect defector stole the technique—if it were him, he’d never carry it on his person. The best way would be to hide it somewhere secret.

His gaze fell upon the abandoned temple.

The temple was the perfect place to hide treasure—wait until the storm passed, then come back and retrieve it.

Li Rui’s heart stirred; he gritted his teeth and stepped out from the thicket.

Soon, he entered the abandoned temple.

Desolate, ruined, overgrown with weeds—a sense of eerie loneliness washed over him; no wonder the nearby villagers said the place was unclean.

The Buddha statue lay toppled.

The Bodhisattva’s stone head was half-buried in earth.

Li Rui wasn’t alarmed at all, for before this temple became abandoned, he had come here to burn incense—it was then called Lingkong Temple.

Later, he heard the abbot had fled with the county magistrate’s younger sister; the temple’s reputation was ruined, and it gradually fell into decay.

But those who remembered that history were mostly dead by now, and the tale grew ever more fantastical with retelling.

Precisely because he’d experienced so much, Li Rui approached all sorts of ghostly legends with skepticism.

Li Rui shook out his robe.

A small cloth bag fell into his hand.

He untied the string securing the bag, revealing a pouch of white powder—this substance was called Ehui .

In his past life, it had another scientific name—lime.

He was a stablehand; carrying a bit of lime on him was perfectly normal, wasn’t it?

Li Rui scooped up a handful of lime and scattered it on the ground.

Soon, footprints that had been invisible now grew clearly visible.

“There’s something here!”

Li Rui’s eyes lit up.

Master math, physics, and chemistry, and you’ll fear nothing under heaven—the ancients didn’t lie to me!

He followed the direction of the footprints, scattering lime as he went, until he reached a secluded side hall—this was not the main Buddha hall, but a side pavilion.

There were no signs of a struggle.

Clearly, the Huaqing Sect disciple hadn’t been fighting in the main hall all along—he’d come here first.

Why come to the side hall?

First, rule out offering incense to the Child-Granting Guanyin. The only possible reason? Hiding treasure!

Instantly,

Li Rui’s heart pounded hard.

He’d only come here hoping for luck—yet he’d actually struck gold!

He searched frantically through the side hall.

Finally,

He reached into a small hole beneath the Child-Granting Guanyin statue and pulled out an object wrapped in oil paper.

Li Rui’s pupils widened slightly.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this must be the secret technique the Huaqing Sect disciples had mentioned.

He had no time to examine it further; he hastily tucked the oil-paper bundle into his robe, then snapped off a twig and swept away all the lime he’d scattered, erasing every trace—only then did he leave, satisfied.

“Damn it, that bastard still got away.”

In the valley,

Zhu Yue grimaced, clutching his abdomen.

Han Qin and the others’ faces were grim too—even with the Divine Weapon Talisman, Xu Hua had still escaped.

At that moment,

Li Rui emerged from the woods, leading four blood-sweating steeds.

Zhu Yue, seeing Li Rui unharmed, was surprised: “Old Li, where were you just now?”

Li Rui: “Young master, I heard the fighting and took the horses to a hidden spot.”

“You’re clever.”

Zhu Yue nodded: “If you hadn’t moved the horses, the Ghost Ming Sect might’ve seen them—and lost them all.”

Ghost Ming Sect?!

Hearing those three words, Li Rui felt a chill of dread.

If he hadn’t been cautious and hidden the horses, he’d have been in serious trouble.

Zhou Hu also looked furious: “Xu Hua colluded with the Ghost Ming Sect—how despicable! If not for their backup, Jiang’s Divine Weapon Talisman would’ve already captured him.”

Compared to Zhu Yue and Zhou Hu, Han Qin and Jiang Yan were far calmer.

Han Qin still smiled: “We should report this to the Elder immediately. The Ghost Ming Sect is too powerful for just the four of us to handle.”

“Han brother is right.”

Zhou Hu now fully respected Han Qin.

Previously, the Huaqing Sect had spread rumors that this Han brother was timid and cowardly—his nickname, “Fist of the Weak and Elderly Han,” was infamous; he’d only take missions against opponents one level below him.

Yet today, Han Qin used his Falling Petals Sword to hold Xu Hua at bay—if not for Han Qin’s intervention, even the Divine Weapon Talisman would’ve had no chance to be used.

“Han brother seems far stronger than the rumors suggested.”

Even Jiang Yan, with her high standards, now regarded Han Qin with new respect.

After cultivating demonic arts, his combat power far surpassed ordinary martial masters; Han Qin’s ability to match Xu Hua evenly proves his strength—he’s among the top of Huaqing Sect’s disciples.

The four Huaqing Sect disciples were discussing sending for reinforcements.

Li Rui’s thoughts drifted back fifty years.

Back then, his former self had fled to Qinghe, sold himself into servitude to the Zhu family, and knew the only path to escape his lowly status was to join the Ghost Ming Sect.

At that time, the Ghost Ming Sect wasn’t called that—it was called the Equal Society.

Its doctrine was deeply heretical.

It didn’t worship gods or immortals—it worshipped the self.

Based on his past-life experience, Li Rui judged: “Three generations of pyramid schemes? Better to sell yourself into slavery than join the Equal Society.”

As for why the imperial court labeled it a heretical sect and renamed it Ghost Ming Sect,

it was because the Equal Society had been the state religion of the previous dynasty.

But that dynasty had fallen a thousand years ago.

Unless the Equal Society’s leader was surnamed Murong and had a beautiful cousin surnamed Wang, no one in their right mind would still dream of restoring the old regime.

Over time, the Ghost Ming Sect faded from official attention, surviving only in secret underground activity.

As for why Li Rui considered the Ghost Ming Sect dangerous,

it wasn’t because its members were truly demon-faced yecha as legends claimed—but rather, from some unknown point onward, all Ghost Ming Sect members had begun cultivating demonic arts.

“Demonic” meant “deviant”—not walking the righteous path.

The righteous path was called righteous precisely because it was safe, stable, and proven by countless generations of ancestors.

The deviant path might be faster, but its risks were immense—many practitioners went into qi deviation and ended up as madmen roaming the streets, hacking people to death.

Though this world punished the mentally ill, Li Rui had no intention of testing his own life on that gamble.

As his thoughts drifted,

Han Qin and the others had finished their discussion.

Zhu Yue ordered him: “Old Li, return to the mansion.”

(End of Chapter)