Chapter 580

“Jie… Jiege.”

Zhang Jie and Feng Baobao waited a long while before Zhang Chulan finally arrived.

Seeing his trembling limbs, Zhang Jie now confirmed it for sure.

This kid Zhang Chulan isn’t pretending to be weak—he’s genuinely afraid of heights.

“Let’s go inside.”

Zhang Jie said nothing more and led the way, Feng Baobao following close behind.

Here, there was already a path, so Zhang Chulan didn’t need to act as the vanguard.

Soon, the group arrived at the main venue of the Luotian Da Jiao.

On a vast open field stood a building resembling a stadium.

But unlike a stadium, it had no dome—it was open-air.

Its area was also much larger than a regular stadium; though not as big as a soccer field, it was close.

After all, cultivators, once activating their true Qi, move at speeds exceeding ten meters per second—little superhumans.

A too-small arena would inevitably restrict their performance.

“Brother Wang…”

“Brother Chen…”

“Miss Lan…”

At this moment, many cultivators had already gathered, forming small circles according to closeness of relationship, exchanging words.

“Come on, don’t miss this chance…”

“Specialty of the Western witch world—no 998, only 99.8!”

“Only 99.8—take home a specialty of the Western witch world!”

“Blessed prayer beads, infused with Buddhist true Qi—nourish the spirit and strengthen the body!”

Many clever cultivators seized this rare opportunity to run small businesses.

Zhang Chulan, who had been trembling moments ago, was now eagerly examining his surroundings.

He had never seen so many cultivators before.

“Baobei-jie…”

Zhang Jie glanced a few times, then called out to Feng Baobao.

There were too many people here, a mix of good and bad—given Baobei-jie’s simple, clueless nature, she might get tricked.

“Jiege, Baobei-jie is gone!”

Zhang Chulan felt the sky had fallen.

“Hm?”

Zhang Jie turned his head—and sure enough, Feng Baobao had vanished without a trace.

“Don’t panic—I’ll find her.”

Zhang Jie halted Zhang Chulan’s panic, unleashing his boundless, formless spiritual sense from his center.

It swept across the entire venue: those chatting, those glaring at each other, those haggling,

those catching up, those maintaining order—all movements of every cultivator were seen by his “eyes.”

The heart’s eye is still an eye.

Though he could lock onto Zhang Chulan’s and Feng Baobao’s positions at any moment,

even monitor their every move, Zhang Jie did not—after all, he wasn’t a peeping tom.

“Found her.”

The next second, he spotted Feng Baobao—she was chatting enthusiastically with a large monk.

………

“Unbelievable, unbelievable—a divine light has surged from the crown of your head,

this is the aura of an immortal, an Arhat, a Bodhisattva!”

A large monk, draped in a golden-trimmed crimson cassock, with a plump face and earlobes reaching his shoulders,

looked at Feng Baobao with an expression of utter awe,

as if he had seen an Arhat or Bodhisattva enshrined by his Buddhist sect.

Feng Baobao tilted her head, staring at him with a vacant, innocent expression, seemingly not understanding his words.

『Is this guy actually a seasoned veteran?』

Seeing Feng Baobao unmoved, the monk felt uncertain inside.

Yet his face remained solemn and dignified, radiating the aura of an enlightened master,

only occasional flashes of cunning in his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

He reached into his cassock and pulled out a string of glistening,

ruby-red glass beads that shimmered in the sunlight:

“These beads were left behind by my ancestral master, Chan Master Duoxin.

He once encountered a legendary beast—a ten-thousand-year fire qilin—in the mountains,

and after more than eighty thousand rounds of mortal combat, finally slew it with his staff.

My ancestor extracted the qilin’s spiritual core and, pouring his heart and soul into it, crafted this string of ruby-red glass beads.

The effort drained him so severely that, immediately after completing them, he passed away, ascending to the Western Pure Land.”

As he spoke, his tone grew mournful.

As he spoke, his tone also grew melancholy.

This fantastical, exaggerated tale struck exactly the right chord with Feng Baobao’s interest in the strange tales of the cultivator world.

“Amitabha. A monk never lies.”

The monk resumed his solemn, dignified demeanor:

“This item was originally meant to be the heirloom of my lineage.

But sacred treasures possess spirit—they can only be claimed and used by those destined for them.

I’ve been heartbroken over this. Today, I came to Longhu Mountain

not to participate in the Luotian Da Jiao, but to find a destined one for this treasure.”

Then his eyes locked onto Feng Baobao: “I’ve searched nearly every cultivator,

yet none were deemed worthy—until you appeared.

This treasure has finally found its destined one—you are that person!”

“Destined one? Me?”

Feng Baobao pointed at her own nose, uncertain.

『So she’s just a rookie—earlier she just didn’t understand.』

The monk’s smile widened, answering firmly:

“This destined one is none other than you, young master.”

“Is this thing made just for me?”

The monk repeatedly emphasized “destined for you” and “this treasure has finally found its destined one,”

which made Feng Baobao, who had long sought her own origins and past,

easily fall into the illusion that “this item was made specifically for me.”

Once this illusion took root, Feng Baobao reached out to take the ruby-red glass beads.

After this illusion arose, Feng Baobao reached out to take the “Spotted Red Liuli String.”

The monk dodged swiftly, causing Feng Baobao’s hand to grasp nothing.

“Master, what are you doing?”

Feng Baobao was confused—if it was destined for her, why wouldn’t he give it?

Feng Baobao was puzzled: if it was destined for her, why not give it to her?

The monk chanted a Buddhist mantra: “Young master, though this item is destined for you,

My lineage has also invested tremendous effort—no merit, but plenty of hard work. What do you say?

But my lineage has also contributed greatly to this—we may have no merit, yet we have endured hardship; don’t you think?

Feng Baobao finally understood the monk’s implication, nodding vigorously:

“Master, how much should I pay you to repay you and your ancestral master for your hard work?”

Zhang Jie, who had observed all this from the side, couldn’t help but smile.

You say Baobei-jie has common sense—she gets tricked so easily.

You say she lacks common sense—she instantly grasps the monk’s hint about payment.

Does Baobei-jie have common sense?

She does.

The monk still didn’t realize he’d been exposed—he clasped his hands together:

“No need for 9998—only 998, and these ruby-red glass beads are yours, young master.”

“No, not 9998—only 998. This Spotted Red Liuli String is yours, benefactor.”

Feng Baobao felt she’d gotten a huge bargain, pulled out her wallet, and took out a stack of Mao bills to pay.

Feng Baobao felt she had gotten the better deal, pulled out her wallet, and took out a stack of Mao bills to pay.

Although she was somewhat clueless, Feng Baobao never lacked money thanks to the Xu family’s care.

Moreover, as a temporary worker in the North China region, her salary was quite substantial.

After all, although the company’s upper management always viewed temporary workers as enforcers, not decision-makers,

how could anyone expect a horse to run without feeding it?

Swish.

Feng Baobao smoothly counted out ten bills of Ma Yeye and handed them to the big monk, saying generously:

“Big Monk, you and I are destined to meet—keep those two yuan, no need to return them.”

“Amitabha, my blade was not sharp enough!”

But the big monk paid no attention to the two yuan; he stared at the stack in Feng Baobao’s hand—

at least five times thicker than a thousand yuan in soft currency—and felt his heart ache.

Here was such a fat sheep right before him, yet he had only plucked a few strands of wool,

instead of slashing her deep—he was committing a sin!