Chapter 527: Bald Monk

Su Lin sighed, not particularly interested in dealing with that pig demon, though he had noticed the nine-tined rake the creature used to comb its hair.

He was now thinking of other things, like which female guests to invite for Kleine's tomorrow-night "Non-Date" event.

"A token in exchange—would the Night Realm agree?"

"General Bingshan seems to like Gelmann."

"Forsyth is too salty—wastes money."

Muttering, Su Lin conjured an umbrella for shade and a beach chair to lie on; heaven knew why the Golden Crow on the neighboring tower glowed and radiated heat twenty-four hours a day—don't you clock out?

Putting on sunglasses, Su Lin began observing this sector of Tiancheng.

There wasn't much to see—just a Daoist Priest with a single straight eyebrow performing rites before an old television and a VHS tape with strong Eastern aesthetics.

"So terrifying."

The Daoist Priest's apprentice carried in a pile of inflatable dolls covered in talismans, evidently used as sealing artifacts, then shut the door, blocking Su Lin's view of the interior like a roadside vendor.

Too bad.

Su Lin turned his gaze to a young man selling water at the opposite stall, "Xia Dongqing Water Stand," wearing a modern shirt, short hair, radiating a pure, uncorrupted beauty, his eyes filled with simplicity.

"One bowl of mung bean soup," Su Lin waved.

"Got it!" The young man briskly ran over and handed him a chilled mung bean dessert.

The bowl was small, made of fired pottery, but the dark emerald mung bean paste was much deeper in color than what one normally saw on the street—visually appetizing.

Raising it to his lips, Su Lin downed it in two gulps.

Not too sweet, but with a faint, clean fragrance; after swallowing, an aroma rose between his mouth and internal organs.

"Tastes good. Two more bowls—how much total?"

"Thirty-five Tiancheng coins per bowl; three bowls, I'll take a hundred."

The young man beamed, his tone shifting instantly from weary to energetic.

Holy shit.

If he remembered correctly, the previous price list showed one Tiancheng coin could be exchanged for: one cubic meter of concentrated Qi, a low-grade martial technique, or a Qi-enchanted weapon.

One hundred coins could buy a Huang-grade cultivation scripture from the Heaven-Earth-Xuan-Huang tiers, or even a high-level martial art like "Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms" with change left over.

Su Lin's hand froze as he reached for red bills: "Is this water made of gold or silver?"

"Sir! This is mung bean dessert brewed with pure water from Kunlun and snow lotus from Tian Shan—it prolongs life and enhances health!" The young man frantically pulled out his identity card, bearing the characters Xia Dongqing.

"I've been selling water here for over half a year—honestly, ask any neighbor if I've ever cheated anyone; this price is fair!"

But I felt no effect at all?

Prolong life—to what year, what month?

Seeing Su Lin's skeptical gaze, Xia Dongqing hurriedly added:

"It cures anything—whether bitten by a zombie, possessed by a ghost, or even damaged at the root. Even Master Qianhe used it and said it was great—Master Qianhe."

He turned around and found the usual Daoist Priest's stall empty.

"A female disciple named Ma Xiaoling hired people to hunt zombies—he went out to take a job."

A monk with a tiger-like back, riding a bicycle, said: "If you want me to hunt zombies, it's twenty coins. He went and hired someone charging thirty—what zombie's worth thirty coins?"

"Impressive."

Su Lin twitched his lips.

Hearing the sound, Xia Dongqing turned back, embarrassed: "How about you pay for just one bowl? I'll take thirty—that's my lowest price."

"I thought you never said this was a healing potion?" Su Lin sighed, picking up an AK-47 from the ground.

"You didn't ask!" The sudden move made Xia Dongqing step back, holding the empty bowl: "Calm down, let's talk reasonably!"

"Take it."

"What?"

"Barter."

Su Lin aimed the rifle's stock at him: "One fifty. And four more bowls—packaged."

It's all surplus—better to sell cheap.

That was Su Lin's thought, but the other clearly suspected Su Lin was scamming him; it wasn't a laser gun—this kind of firearm wasn't worth much.

"Twenty-five—that's my bottom price," Xia Dongqing tried negotiating.

"I had this blessed in a church—it works better than talismans. You can't get this price even in a store."

Su Lin handed over the gun: "If you're not used to it, you can swap for an ACP, a revolver, grenades, or high-enchanted weapons that deal critical damage to demons, devils, zombies."

"Let me call and ask," Xia Dongqing picked up a flip phone.

Zhao Li, the Underworld spirit officer, and Wang Xiaoya had said: if someone eats for free or causes trouble, call their number.

Small stalls can't follow formal transaction procedures.

Beep—beep—

No one answered. No idea why. Xia Dongqing just wanted to keep calm this man—wearing modern clothes, sporting an ancient hairstyle, holding firearms with sunglasses on.

Thump. Crack.

A lighter sparked, igniting a slightly crumpled cigarette.

"How much?"

A tall man with jet-black hair, deep blue eyes, wearing a trench coat and tie, inhaled deeply on the cigarette, exhaling smoke as he pointed at the stall's weapons: "All of this—packaged. Do you accept barter?"

There's still someone with taste.

Su Lin smiled faintly, his gaze returning from the silver lighter engraved with a cross in the man's bag: "All of it? I've got landmines, RPGs, Barretts too."

Before Su Lin finished, the weathered man interrupted and repeated his earlier words.

"All of it. Packaged. I assume there's no language barrier here."

"I'll give you a 70% discount—7,777 universal currency units. I like this number."

"Damn it, why don't you just rob someone?!"

"If you have no money, why are you even talking to me?!"

Su Lin raised an eyebrow. The man in front of him smoked heavily—each drag was a deathly inhale, and the secondhand smoke made him nauseated. Next time, he'd add a new rule to his personal Bible: no smoking.

"6,666," the man countered. "I like this number."

He retracted his earlier stereotype of Tiancheng—everyone here was a talent.

"How about 666? If you're this good at haggling, you might as well worship the devil."

"Don't speak nonsense. Four sixes mean I'm deeply devout."

Unfazed by Su Lin's teasing, he transferred 6,666 currency units via a metal token: "All I have left is devotion. If this thing doesn't work, I'll send you to hell. Understood?"

The man tapped his eye, then pointed at Su Lin again, signaling he was watching him.

"Well, thank you then." Su Lin had been worrying—he was missing one last piece of the divine puzzle.

Watching the man pack every box into a magically enchanted leather wallet, then walk away with effortless flair.

"I've got a blessed nuclear reactor too—come find me if it works well." Su Lin waved.

The man's cigarette slipped from his lips and fell to the ground. He stared at Su Lin in surprise, then crushed the butt underfoot and left.

"Total lack of manners," Su Lin sneered.

He approached Xia Dongqing, took out one hundred, and planned to buy a bowl to drink now and another to take back for Weigong Shilang to decipher.

【Dongqing, speak up! Are you mute?!】

"I'll take this gun!"

Xia Dongqing ignored the shouting on the other end of the call, hung up immediately, and neatly packed several bowls of water into plastic containers: "I'll throw in two extra bowls—papaya stew with ice and double-layered milk pudding. Made by me!"

"Why the change of heart?" Su Lin asked. "Do you know that rude, despicable bastard?"

"How do you know he's despicable? His character is indeed poor—but he's famous! I've read his comics and seen his movies." Xia Dongqing stowed the assault rifle, then placed the water bags into a sack and handed them over. "He's been here less than two months, and he's already a hotshot exorcist."

Exorcist? With comics and movies?

"Who's he?"

"John Constantine."

So it was that Constantine from the D-line—no wonder he was so dark.

But this wasn't the blond version—it was the one Keanu Reeves portrayed.

Wait, why is he buying so much weaponry?

". " Su Lin thought for a moment, made the sign of the cross over his chest, then turned and walked away from the place. "Not my problem."

All items sold are final—no returns or refunds.

Finally got rid of that pile of stuff that was useless to eat but too bad to throw away.

A while later

"Where's that bald monk who sold guns?!"

A greasy-faced pig demon approached with a snarling monkey, asking Xia Dongqing at his stall: "Have you seen him?!"

"That gun-selling Mr. isn't bald! Over there, over there!"

Seeing the monkey's menacing posture, ready to swing his staff, Xia Dongqing instantly pointed silently toward Qiongqi Tower: "He went that way."

"Brother Monkey, no need!" the pig demon cooed in a voice that raised goosebumps. "That bald monk's definitely gone to the newly opened Zhutian Tower. Let's go—we'll catch him."

The monkey grinned wickedly, slung his iron rod over his shoulder, and dashed off with the pig demon in pursuit.

"What are Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie up to?"

Xia Dongqing shook his head. "Ruined my childhood."

"John, you bastard, where'd you go?!"

"Took a bath, got a full-body massage, and restocked supplies."

John Constantine spoke nonsense as he tossed an assault rifle to the woman before him.

"What's a full-body massage?"

"Eastern term. Means a really good massage. I'll take you next time."

He ejected the bullets from the magazine, held the metal rounds beneath his nostrils, and inhaled deeply, his expression one of rapture:

"This batch must've soaked in holy water for ages—I bet they even used holy relics. Damn luxurious. But now, I can shove those bastards back into hell's ass."

"Angela, I hope you've handled more guns than just your police-issue pistol."

Is 7,777 points expensive?

No—it's no different from buying a hot dog on the street in a slum, but it saves you money to spend elsewhere.

Thank God, even though life is as shitty as dog crap, at least that guy is a real "good person."

The two carried their weapons into an elevator in a skyscraper, openly unzipping their duffel bags and pulling out their arms.

"Ready?" John said. "I'll count down from ten."

"How do you know the demon's here?" Angela asked as the elevator numbers climbed. "It feels like you know everything."

Constantine chambered a round and disengaged the safety: "Close enough. A little spoiler. Sadly, I can't save your sister—but since I know their plan, they know I'm coming. Sounds convoluted, right? Okay. 3... 2... 1!"

Ding!

The elevator doors opened on the 66th floor. Constantine stormed in and aimed at a white-collar woman in an office.

"John Constantine~" she greeted softly, though her eyes glowed brighter with red light. "He waits for you in hell—and has prepared a paradise for you."

Bang!

The moment the trigger was pulled, the hammer struck the primer, and the bullet shot out, piercing the woman's skull.

From the wound, no blood flowed—only ash, charred and spreading outward, the normal result when a demon's human vessel is destroyed.

"We'll meet in hell."

The demon left behind its final sweet words.

"You probably won't see me again."

After firing one more shot, he pulled a miniature submachine gun from his coat and raised its muzzle toward the group of demons approaching him—dressed in suits and ties, resembling urban elites.

Without hesitation, he walked straight toward the surging demons.

"What did you do?"

"What?"

Constantine frowned; the demons' expressions were strange—they had just surrounded him, then stopped and retreated, their eyes filled with something Constantine had never seen before.

Fear?

Watching the demons begin to flee, Constantine, who had planned a bullet storm, narrowed his eyes—this was deeply wrong.

Did he see human fear in these damned demons?!

This weapon was effective, but it shouldn't make demons whose true forms weren't even on Earth feel fear.

"What did you do, John?" A stunningly beautiful demon asked.

She was a succubus; Constantine knew her well, and before this incident, they had maintained a long-term purely physical relationship.

"Eli, what are you talking about?" Constantine stayed alert, raising his weapon and advancing step by step.

At that moment, he noticed a glimmer from the demons' perspective—not aimed at him, but at himself.

"Look ahead!"

He shouted at Angela, spun around instantly, and pulled the trigger—bullets poured out.

But—

Holy wings unfolded from the corpses of the fallen demons, blocking the barrage of bullets; the suspended rounds rippled like they'd plunged into water, gradually being swallowed by the wings.

"Jesus Christ!"

Constantine slowly lowered the muzzle of his submachine gun, staring dumbfounded at the scene.

The demons, meant to return to dust, burst forth like silkworms breaking from cocoons—unfurling another pair of holy wings, their souls both grotesque and gentle, their phantom faces filled with terror, struggle, and madness.

"Stop!!!"

The demons began to shriek, but more light spilled from their wings; she was sinking like into quicksand, her demonic face slowly consumed by brilliant radiance.

"Seek your footsteps. Walk in your kingdom."

A glorious hymn of praise, majestic and soul-shaking, echoed through Los Angeles, this major city on America's West Coast, amid the adoration of countless beings.

Beneath the setting sun, demons, angels, devils, half-angels, and sorcerers hidden within the human city all paused their tasks, stepping onto the streets or to windows, staring dumbfounded at the heavens.

"Constantine! Please, I don't want to go to heaven—!!!"

The demon's voice pleaded; its withered, tree-like arms and wings reached toward Constantine through the blazing, wind-wracked light: "You broke the rules! Stop! I'll agree to any condition!"

Constantine watched the demon's soul burn within the light, reforged by it, gradually shedding its original form, yet its demonic power still violently reacted against the endless radiance.

The two forces clashed, burned, and suppressed each other endlessly.

"Who cares?!"

Constantine grabbed Angela's wrist and began retreating slowly with the demons.

The day blazed fiercely, warm as fire, with rolling thunder echoing in the distance.

From behind the demon now undergoing angelic transformation, an eternal, indestructible, uncorruptible foundation of Heaven tore through space, pouring down guiding light.

"Damn it."

Constantine's eyes trembled, but the next instant, a blinding white lightning bolt shot from the demon now turned sun, a beam of light wrapping around his submachine gun and snatching it away.

As if reaching a critical threshold,

Beneath Heaven, the angelic demon's face became utterly divine; she smiled, yet golden tears began to fall.

"Lord, praise you."

"Thank you, John."

She cradled a pile of human souls, lifting them upward with outstretched arms.

Four wings wrapped around her; her flawless angelic body cracked open, and terrifying holy light began radiating outward from her center, devouring all tangible things.

"For my countless past sins, Lord, allow me to exchange today's glory for a future free of sin in this place."

A prayer rose; the evening bell of Heaven rang loud.

"Run!"

As Constantine dragged Angela away, he also seized his old lover Eli's hand and pulled a fragment of Jesus' burial cloth from his coat.

But everything seemed to slow; he turned his head.

Hum—!!!

A holy light, stretching from earth to heaven, engulfed all of Los Angeles; shadows flickered, light waxed and waned, yet only the divine blessing lingered.

Tonight, a demon atoned for its past sins, an angel returned to Heaven through the glory of sacrifice, and an exorcist shattered the rule preventing angels from truly descending to Earth—

sending every demon in the city back to hell.

"On the way back, I saw a place called Ju Xia Lou—let me treat you, let's go eat?"

Su Lin tossed up Heaven Coins and said to the group gathered on the tower's peak: "Sold out. There are still plenty of rich guys here."

"Already? Let's talk about it later." Ye Fan suddenly felt this place still had great development potential.

Originally, he hadn't expected much, but now a quarter of the listed items had already sold.

Mainly, as Su Lin said, rich guys were bulk-buying.

"Who the hell is Emperor Xian of Han?" Xiao Yan walked in with a strange expression: "Bought all my pills—including that Soul-Tian Di Pill—trying to restore the Han dynasty?!"

Ye Fan shook his head, glanced at the group message, and gave orders to the attendant nearby.

"Business hours are over. Please escort all guests out of the tower, and give each attendee a Foundation Establishment-level defensive artifact."

Soon, various complaints and uneasy murmurs arose within Qiongqi Tower.

Some had just arrived in Tiancheng and rushed here the moment they heard the news, only to find they hadn't even seen the goods.

Yet Ye Fan's show of wealth and power silenced many voices.

"I've invited Confused Siming, Xianzhou, and cultivators from Song Shuhang's world." Ye Fan looked at Su Lin and asked, "Can Li Changshou bring your heavenly court deities here?"

He roughly understood what Ye Fan intended: to publicly open this place as a resource exchange hub among the top powers of multiple worlds—but unfortunately, the other outer regions had not yet been secured.

Even so, it was already terrifying.

"No problem. Just tell him." Su Lin nodded. "Interesting."

Thus, everyone—whether family or close friends—could bring them here without needing to hide.

Soon, the first guest arrived.

"Me?! I thought you were aliens, but you're interdimensional people?!" Huang Tao stepped out with Kleine, spinning in place and scanning the surroundings.

Next came Li Huowang, entering with Yi Donglai, Zhao Shuangdian, Wu Qi, and others, followed by several Bodhisattvas and Buddhas.

Su Lin saw a group of monks surrounding him: "What are you doing?! I'm not giving a sermon today!"

"Master Tianfo, we just finished the Ullambana Festival back home," Wu Qi whispered, leaning close. "I'm too lazy to preach—I brought them for team building."

Team building? Then it's fine.

Su Lin sighed in relief. Then Li Changshou and Tai Bai Jin Xing arrived with the heavenly court's deities, along with wandering immortals from the Three Teachings.

"Your Great Celestial Lord hasn't arrived yet, go—"

Fortunately, the grand hall was gradually clearing out.

Fortunately, the interior space of Qiongqi Tower could expand at Ye Fan's will—even growing to the scale of an entire universe—and could accommodate any number of people.

"Prepare to close." Ye Fan said to the guard at the door.

After a guest, accompanied by attendants laden with packages, stepped out, the ancient stone door of Qiongqi Tower slowly closed.

Ye Fan smiled and said, "Everyone, wait a moment."

"Baldy~~! Donkey~~~! How long are you going to stay in there?"

"Good monk, something good's waiting for you~ Oh, these girls are so lovely!"

An unpleasant, oily voice echoed.

Everyone turned to the door and saw a pig demon bursting through the crack, clutching a guard.

He shoved the guard to the ground and wildly licked his face, soaking his uniform in saliva.

But within seconds, as if struck by immense force, a golden figure slammed into the pig demon from behind, hurling him from the doorway straight to the center of the trading zone.

Slap! Slap!

A furry palm struck the pig demon's face with a sharp crack.

The pig demon instantly reverted to the appearance of a pale-faced, oiled-haired scholar. Behind him stepped a short, ugly monkey.

"What are you hiding for?! Come out! Your Sun Grandpa's brought you a stroke of fortune!"

Sun Wukong bared his teeth, his expression fierce: "Strong smell of bald monk."

"Master! Monkey Brother and I came to fetch you!" Zhu Bajie called out, then whispered low: "Monkey Brother, what if the bald monk won't come out?"

Sun Wukong struck Zhu Bajie on the head with his staff and jerked his chin left: "Move aside."

He closed his eyes, tilted his head, inhaled deeply, then opened them again—his eyes glowed crimson with Jin Guang. In one motion, he swung the Ruyi Jingu Bang toward a spot in the misty northwest interior of the tower.

Ding!

Su Lin caught the Ruyi Jingu Bang aimed straight at his face, wearing a stiff smile as he stepped out from the mist.

"Monkey Brother, Monkey Brother, it's him!" Zhu Bajie patted the monkey's shoulder.

"You've got some skill. Come with us." Sun Wukong retracted his staff, squinted, turned—and with a flick of the rod, sent Zhu Bajie tumbling to the ground. He pointed his thumb toward the door: "Let's go. Got something to discuss."

Sun Wukong blinked—then realized the door was already shut.

"Bald monk, don't make us beg you to drink the wine—you'll have to drink the punishment," Zhu Bajie stood up, but then felt something was off.

He looked up—the mist separating the tower's inner zones rapidly dissipated.

Jin Guang shimmered; auspicious clouds swirled. Immortals, gods, and Buddhas stood in midair, each holding ritual artifacts or forming seals, clad in radiant divine robes.

Heavenly soldiers and generals, Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, mighty divine sages—three-pronged two-bladed spears, Qiankun Rings, Jade Pure Vases.

Their identities and origins were obvious.

"What a coincidence," Zhu Bajie choked out. "Everyone's here?"

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