Chapter 143

This pair of Buddha Eyes has been kept in the refrigerator all along; I dare not move them casually, afraid that taking them out would break them again.

I intended to leave them for Yu Nian, but for now I haven't told anyone, not even Yu Nian.

After all, the origin of these Buddha Eyes is too complicated; there may be great trouble hidden behind them.

Furthermore, we need to find a healer who can help cultivate the Buddha Eyes.

There are too many variables involved.

Actually, I also wondered if Jin Wuya could help with this; he is a queer craftsman.

Queer craftsmen are skilled at modifying and forging queer devices, and Jin Wuya has even inlaid Golden Scale before, right?

But this pair of Buddha Eyes is still somewhat different; they are not merely living things, but very likely spiritual objects, rare in the world, and I dare not take the risk.

Over the next few days, I stayed in the pawn shop to recuperate; Liu Junyan seemed busy, but whenever mealtime came, he would appear on time, watching me eat various tonics.

My complexion improved day by day, and I recovered quickly.

I gained strength, and my mood improved greatly.

Strangely, that corpse never appeared again.

This pair of Buddha Eyes seemed to have been completely abandoned along with Gu Die's reincarnation.

Hui Moqiong's people have been investigating, but they could only confirm the name Gu Die; it indeed seems to come from the Miao region, yet her appearance was too abrupt, leaving no trace to follow.

"Little sis, even if I stretched my arm as far as I could, I couldn't reach Miao territory; give me a little time, bro, let me think of a solution." Hui Moqiong said, leaning against the doorframe.

Before I could speak, Li Qingying objected: "Fifth Lord Hui, watch your words—who are you calling 'brother'? Xiao Jiu belongs to the Seventh Lord."

In other words, you still want to be the Seventh Lord's great uncle-by-marriage, huh?

Hui Moqiong's mouth wouldn't yield to Li Qingying's; he immediately said, "Hey Yingying, why do you keep looking at me disapprovingly? I haven't offended you—come over, let's go outside and talk privately."

As he spoke, he walked over, pinching a bit of fabric on Li Qingying's shoulder, and led her out that way.

Li Qingying reached out to slap Hui Moqiong's hand—*smack*—I could even feel the sting.

Hui Moqiong, unfazed, stretched his long arm, almost half-encircling Li Qingying's shoulder, and directly pulled her out.

Li Qingying is clearly a trained fighter, yet in Hui Moqiong's hands she was as pliable as a little tangyuan that can be squeezed and rolled at will, utterly unable to resist.

I couldn't help but sigh, truly a case of one thing restraining another.

Two days later, Jin Wuya came with someone.

When the two arrived, I was offering incense in the main courtyard; Li Qingying led the person in and poured tea.

When I finished and came over, I saw Li Qingying sitting beside Jin Wuya, the two chatting about something.

Beside them sat a middle-aged man, around fifty, wearing a Tang-style outfit, holding a large object in his arms, tightly wrapped in a whole piece of red cloth.

The middle-aged man looked worried; I glanced at his visage—broad forehead, high nose, cheeks full and ruddy, ears large and thick, a sign of good fortune—but at that moment, a faint black qi lingered between his brows, within which a hint of light was concealed.

I frowned; judging from his superficial appearance, he has recently been unlucky, but his innate blessings are deep, so in adversity he will surely find aid from a benefactor.

As I thought, I inadvertently glanced at his brow's tail.

His brow tail slightly lifted, the tip tinged red—this is an omen of joyous events among his children.

After they were seated, Jin Wuya introduced: "Xiao Jiu Zhanggui, this is Guo Zaimin, Boss Guo; he has something he wants to pawn at our shop."

Guo Zaimin quickly put on a smiling face and said to me, "Xiao Jiu Zhanggui, it's like this: some years ago I opened a ceramics factory in the provincial capital, specializing in Buddha statues; when the factory first started, strange things kept happening at home and business was poor, so I consulted an expert, who said Buddha statues possess spirit, ordinary people can't suppress them—one must invite a revered Buddha back to be enshrined to keep them in check, only then could my business continue."

He said this, gently placing the item from his arms onto the tea table, then solemnly lifted the red cloth covering it.

Beneath the red cloth lay a gilded great Buddha head.

Guo Zaimin continued: "After inviting this Buddha head back, my home and factory indeed became peaceful; business flourished and I made a tidy sum, but these past two years the economy has slumped terribly, and I'm getting older, so I want to sell off the factory and return to my roots."

Before selling the factory, I exchanged the remaining ceramic Buddha statues at low prices with peers, leaving only this Buddha head; as the saying goes, inviting a deity is easy, sending it away is hard. When I first invited this Buddha head, the expert also told me that if one day it is no longer usable, it must not be casually discarded or given away; it should be covered with a red cloth and buried deep in the mountains.

Jin Wuya and I nodded simultaneously, and I said, "The mountains abound with Spiritual Qi, which would help the Buddha head continue its cultivation—indeed a good way to handle it. Did you follow through?"

"I did." Guo Zaimin said anxiously, "I specifically searched several places, compared them, and chose a relatively remote deep mountain where I buried the Buddha head. Oh, there is also a temple in that mountain, said to house a monk who has cultivated for a hundred years."

Guo Zaimin paused, caught his breath, and continued: "When the Buddha head was first buried, our household did enjoy some days of peace; my wife and I built a residence in our hometown, but on the very night we moved in, the Buddha head… it suddenly appeared on its own in our bedroom."

That is indeed rather strange.

I asked, "What happened then?"

"Afterward, no matter whether I reburied it in that mountain or chose a new spot, it was useless; on the night it was buried, it would still return to my home by itself."

Guo Zaimin said this, and cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.

This Buddha head affair would make anyone uneasy.

But I feel this matter isn't limited to that; after all, the Buddha head coming back is just coming back—if it doesn't want to leave, enshrining it at home does no harm either way.

Just as I was about to continue questioning, a voice from the back door of the living room suddenly sounded—Hui Moqiong's: "Buddy, you've come all this way, still hiding things? If I'm not mistaken, your household has had some happy news lately, right?"

I glanced at Hui Moqiong—had he figured it out too?

Guo Zaimin blinked, and Jin Wuya beside him also blinked, then he questioned: "No wonder I didn't notice anything odd about this Buddha head—you must not have been telling the truth."

Guo Zaimin's cold sweat increased, his hand holding the tissue to wipe it trembling.

He once was a dignified big boss, but now this matter has turned him into a startled bird.

"Is it really that hard to speak up?" Hui Moqiong gave Guo Zaimin no chance to catch his breath, continuing, "Let me calculate… it's probably your daughter's Red Phoenix Star moving, am I right?"