Chapter 100: Temple Trickery (Requesting Moon Tickets)

Lin Jue suddenly woke up, not knowing how long he had slept.

Outside was dim and dark; the room was pitch black, and he didn’t know what time it was, but it was chillingly cold, with an unusual frosty sensation.

This chill seemed to come from the next room.

Amid the chill, Lin Jue also sensed a trace of yin energy.

“Snap…”

A tiny speck of light flickered to life in the room.

Lin Jue had intended to light the way and check for anomalies, but saw his third master, who should have been asleep, already sitting cross-legged with eyes wide open, staring at the next room.

Their fox was also awake, sitting upright on the mat beneath the bed, gazing in that direction.

At the sight of the light, both man and fox turned their heads.

As if to say—

You’re awake too?

So I’m the only one who slept like a log?

Lin Jue couldn’t help thinking.

“You’re awake too?” His third master, having the advantage of speech, spoke first. “Did you feel something off in that room?”

“The yin energy is heavy,” Lin Jue nodded. “When did you wake up?”

“Just now. I drank wine last night and got up to relieve myself, only to see Fuyao sitting perfectly still, staring at that room.” The third master scratched his head. “Before waking, I just felt cold, but it didn’t bother me much. Now that I’m awake, I can’t sleep.”

“I see.”

Lin Jue exhaled in relief—he’d feared he was the least alert.

“What time is it?”

“It’s still not dawn.”

“So you mean—”

“After waking, I carefully sensed it. Besides the yin energy, there’s something familiar about that room,” the third master said. “I don’t mean to meddle, but I can’t sleep. I want to go take a look, but they kindly took us in and locked the door—it wouldn’t be proper to act rudely.”

“What kind of familiar feeling?” Lin Jue asked.

“Obsession, resentment, malevolence, blood qi,” the third master listed several terms, and Lin Jue understood his meaning.

“Could it be an evil ghost or a vengeful spirit?”

“Not likely,” the third master waved his hand. “If it were truly an evil ghost or vengeful spirit, we wouldn’t just feel cold. Besides, the yin and ghostly energy there isn’t strong.”

“That’s simple. Leave it to me.”

“You’re going?”

“I’m curious too.”

“That’s fine,” the third master nodded. “If it’s truly like the lingering souls of those heroes I knew, you’ll find the spirit of the Bean Soldier.”

“So that’s how it is…”

Lin Jue nodded, gazing at the next room.

Since sleep was impossible tonight, he got up, put on his shoes, strapped his firewood axe and throwing darts to his body, picked up the lantern, and pushed open the door.

The fox naturally followed him.

First, he went to the outhouse.

After returning, he stood right before the next room’s door.

Lin Jue examined it closely—it was just an ordinary wooden door, no talismanic array. He leaned closer to peer inside, but saw only darkness, nothing at all.

There was indeed yin energy inside.

But it wasn’t strong.

Lin Jue blew out the lantern and placed it on the ground, then crept cautiously toward the door, inching forward carefully.

His face slowly passed through the doorway.

“Puff…”

He exhaled a tiny spark of flame, which in an instant illuminated the room’s interior.

The room’s size and furnishings were nearly identical to his own, but under the flickering light, several indistinct black shadows flitted wildly, crashing about the room.

Sensing the flame, one shadow immediately lunged at him.

Without the slightest hesitation—

It vaguely resembled a martial artist, wielding an unrecognizable long blade, face twisted in fury, leaping forward with a slash aimed straight at Lin Jue’s face.

Lin Jue instinctively stepped back out of the room.

The blade’s tip seemed to pierce through the doorframe, grazing his nose as it slashed downward.

“….”

Lin Jue’s eyes flickered, then he stepped forward again.

This time, he fully entered the room.

He raised his hand, a tiny flame glowing at his fingertip.

From outside, the flame clearly cast the Daoist’s silhouette on the door and window, but also revealed several more indistinct black shadows—two on either side, several above—all clawing and waving blurred swords and knives, leaping at the Daoist.

Lin Jue remained utterly unmoved.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Several blades cut through his body.

Lin Jue remained unharmed; at most, the cuts brought a chill, but his fiery spiritual energy instantly filled the gaps.

Yet the shadows kept attacking, mindless and tireless, tearing and slashing at him, each face twisted in rage, as if they bore a deep, bitter grudge against him.

Lin Jue merely observed them closely, memorizing this sensation.

“Is this obsession and resentment?”

But these shadows weren’t even ghosts—just residual souls born of obsession, lacking full consciousness, unable to communicate. Correspondingly, they had little power.

A common person might still be affected.

But Lin Jue paid them no mind, letting them strike him, studying them under the flame, his eyes filled with thought.

Where did these warriors come from?

What had happened here?

As Lin Jue pondered, he suddenly noticed the sky outside gradually brightening, as if alight with fiery clouds, and heard the chanting of monks—he realized something was wrong and hurried out.

The fox sat patiently waiting for him at the door.

Lin Jue glanced around—no one had seen him.

But then he realized: it wasn’t dawn.

The light he saw was the Buddha’s radiance emanating from the temple’s main hall; the chanting didn’t come from the monks’ rooms, but from the open main hall, which stood empty.

No wonder dawn seemed to arrive so suddenly.

“Creak…”

A pilgrim, hearing the noise, rushed out still half-dressed.

Seeing the Bodhisattva had truly manifested, the pilgrims erupted in excitement, shouting for others. Soon, more pilgrims, still in their robes, poured out to gaze at the main hall.

The junior sister’s room opened too.

First came the female companion of the Wang pilgrim, then the junior sister, holding her long sword.

The third master emerged as well.

Everyone gathered at the main hall’s entrance; some hadn’t even reached it before kneeling down, praying and weeping, convinced their silver had not been wasted.

Lin Jue and his two companions stood together, watching.

The hall was indeed empty—no monks inside—but the statue of the Bodhisattva glowed golden, illuminating the entire temple, while faint, indistinct chanting drifted from within.

“The Bodhisattva has manifested!”

“The Bodhisattva blesses us!”

“Truly the Bodhisattva!”

A sea of pilgrims knelt before the hall’s entrance.

Only then did the monks emerge from their rooms, still dressed, yawning and drowsy, their expressions casual as they chatted among themselves:

“Why has the Bodhisattva manifested again?”

“I don’t know…”

“Dear laypeople, the ground is damp and cold. Sincerity of heart is enough—don’t kneel too long! The Bodhisattva wouldn’t wish you to harm yourselves from prolonged kneeling!”

Now, apart from the monks, only the three Daoists stood upright.

Lin Jue stared upward at the Bodhisattva statue, eyes unblinking.

The fox stared intently at the altar below.

Lin Jue lowered his gaze, following the fox’s stare.

“Three Daoist masters, please return to rest—the dawn is still some way off,” the slightly plump monk said, smiling warmly. “Though all are under the Heavenly Lord’s domain, Buddhism and Daoism are separate paths. If you stand here without bowing, your hearts may feel uneasy. But if you bow, you may feel even more uneasy.”

It made sense—and was considerate.

The three exchanged glances, then turned and walked back.

As the horizon began to pale, the junior sister didn’t return to her room but went to her two senior brothers’ room.

The room was small, with no chairs or tables; the two brothers sat on the bed, the junior sister sat cross-legged on the mat, hugging the increasingly pale fox, gazing up at them.

“What did you notice, younger brother?”

“No Buddhist aura—just some spiritual radiance, oddly familiar. I don’t know how to perform it, but it reminds me of Seventh Master’s illusions. Fuyao’s ears are sharp—there’s likely a trick beneath the altar or inside the statue.”

“I think so too, Senior Brother.”

“These monks…”

“Of course, it’s for money.”

“Likely so,” Lin Jue said, frowning. “Senior Brother, do you know what I saw in the next room?”

“Did you see the same as I did?”

“Something similar. A few warriors, filled with bitter resentment—they lunged at me, biting and slashing the moment they saw me.”

As he spoke, the fox suddenly turned its head and looked outside.

Faint footsteps faded into the distance.

Were we overheard?

The three exchanged glances again.

As expected, not long after, the slightly chubby monk arrived; his face was still somewhat dark, but the warm, gentle expression he’d worn yesterday was gone.

The monk was also very direct.

“Venerable Daoists, to be honest, this place is not where the Bodhisattva manifested—this was all staged by us, purely for profit. Since you’ve seen through our ruse, we humbly ask you, in return for letting you stay overnight and providing food and drink, to… to…”

The monk seemed to find it hard to speak:

“Ah, we hope you won’t tell outsiders. Naturally, we’ll reward you with silver.”

He then stared at them.

Lin Jue and his junior sister reacted in perfect unison.

Such a difficult decision, such an awkward request—naturally, it fell to Senior Brother.

The junior sister’s expression was solemn, lost in thought.

Lin Jue thought of the lingering spirits next door.

“Venerable Master, rest assured—Daoists rarely gossip. Besides, we’re lazy by nature and avoid trouble,” Senior Brother said cheerfully, though his sincerity was uncertain. “If no one asks us directly, we won’t speak. But if someone does, we won’t lie—that’s something you must understand.”

At this, the monk’s expression shifted slightly.

Senior Brother quickly added with a smile: “Don’t worry, Venerable Master—we’re from Yixian, only staying one night. We’ll leave at first light. Your temple is so remote, no one will come asking about us.”

“And if they do?”

“Daoists don’t lie,” Senior Brother said, watching the monk’s face. Seeing his expression grow heavier, he suddenly grinned. “Then we’ll keep silent.”

“Phew…”

The monk finally exhaled in relief.

He reached into his robe and pulled out a red cloth bundle, one hand open, the other untieing it—inside were several bundles of honeycomb silver ingots. Just keeping quiet, doing nothing, was worth dozens of taels.

“We seek wealth from local rich folk, but we’ve also helped the poor. You Daoists are powerful—those who see should share. A small token, not worthy of your regard, but please accept it.”

“….”

Senior Brother pushed it away: “You’ve already let us stay overnight and fed us free vegetarian meals. What more could we ask for? It’s already enough.”

The monk looked up, staring at him.

As if judging whether he was sincere.

Senior Brother smiled warmly, unbothered.

“Then that’s wonderful,” the monk beamed. “We’d be honored to count you as friends.”

“You’re too kind.”

“We take our leave.”

As soon as the monk left, the three continued staring at each other.

Senior Brother’s expression grew calm.

Slowly, dawn broke.

As soon as daylight came, before the temple’s pilgrims had departed, poor locals from nearby arrived, hearing the Bodhisattva had manifested again last night—they pulled out money one after another to make offerings, begging for the Bodhisattva’s protection.

No one knew how the monks managed it—how they maintained the illusion of disdaining wealth while making people willingly empty their homes. Perhaps it was precisely this illusion that made it possible.

The three watched from afar, expressionless.

Soon—

The monks brought them breakfast.

The meal was more substantial: three bowls of thin porridge, a plate of vegetarian buns, and a dish of pickled vegetables.

Neither Senior Brother nor the junior sister picked up their chopsticks—they looked at Lin Jue.

Lin Jue picked up his bowl without hesitation, took a sip of porridge, savored it, then tasted the buns and pickles.

The white porridge was fine—the poison was in the vegetables.