Chapter 24: Becoming a Monk at Tansong Temple

Chapter 24: Becoming a Monk at Tansong Temple

During my time at the underground base, through observation, covertly reading files, and stealing abilities, I came to realize that ordinary police forces and the military were no match for AI-modified Sweepers. That was why the police and military rarely interfered with Sweeper operations.

Technically, the Sweepers truly had no evidence I’d used AI. I genuinely hadn’t used artificial intelligence. Or perhaps my same-frequency sensing simply wasn’t that important to them. Combined with the invisible person’s truly formidable backing, I was finally released.

Which raised the question: who exactly was this mysterious invisible person?

All I knew was they had connections to the Soul Hunter List. Everything else lay beyond my current reach.

The Sweepers were already an incredibly powerful organization. So what kind of entity were the Soul Hunters? What relationship existed between them and the Sweepers?

Whatever. None of my business for now.

As I walked out of the Sweepers’ Tansong Mountain compound and finally breathed free air, I never expected to be greeted by a stunning woman, trailed by several monks from Tansong Temple.

What kind of combination was this?

The beauty held an enormous bouquet of flowers, flanked by four bodyguards. She threw herself at me, tears streaming down her face, small fists pounding my chest.

I knew who she was: Du Xinlang, sole heiress of the Du Group.

This had nothing to do with me. Xuanhong had caused this trouble.

Xuanhong had become a monk at Tansong Temple precisely to escape her.

The senior monk leading the group behind Du Xinlang wore ancestral robes whose material and style marked him as someone of abbot rank. His prayer beads were distinctive as well.

The monk waited until our exchange paused, then approached, pressed his palms together in salute, and introduced himself:

“This humble monk, in the Dharma succession, serves as First Seat of Tansong Temple. My Dharma name is Guanghuai, and I am currently acting as temple administrator. I have brought the four halls of Tansong Temple to respectfully welcome Junior Brother Xuanhong home to assume the abbotship.”

I knew who he was, but I still produced my ordination certificate, returned his salute, and replied:

“This humble monk took tonsure at Mumen Temple in Sichuan. My Dharma name is Xuanchen, not Xuanhong.”

Guanghuai approached with a smile and grasped my hand firmly.

“Junior Brother Xuan, you misspeak. Two years ago, when our master passed into seated nirvana, he declared before everyone: ‘In all worldly phenomena, Hong and Chen are one.’ At the time I didn’t grasp his meaning. Only today do I understand the workings of Heaven.”

That mystical?

I didn’t know if this had truly occurred—ordained by the Way of Heaven—or if Guanghuai was improvising out of expediency. Either way, there was no one left to verify it. Master had passed into seated nirvana.

Still, since I’d inherited Xuanhong’s thoughts and memories, it did suggest that somewhere in the unseen realm, my fate was being directed. Otherwise, why would the joined green jade tokens recognize me as master? Time suspended in stillness wasn’t normal physics either.

Some extraordinary secret lay hidden behind all this.

Guanghuai continued, “Three months ago, Street Chief Lu Linfeng made a special trip to Tansong Temple to report Junior Brother’s imprisonment. He also described the benevolent-practice Dharma service you performed at the disabled settlement. When our temple’s monks learned CWP had detained you, we immediately submitted collective petitions and appeals. The four halls went between the United Nations and CWP’s Pingdu headquarters. We’ve also come at the request of Chairman Gu Qiutang.”

So Gu Qiutang had been involved in arrangements too? That meant he didn’t intend for me to return to company work—he wanted me stationed long-term at Tansong Temple.

Tansong Temple was the place of Xuanhong’s Dharma succession. My memories already contained Xuanhong’s experiences, and Hong and Chen being one was fact. So this could be considered a homecoming.

Besides, Xuanhong and I were already inseparable. Might as well be a monk at Tansong Temple.

I stopped resisting. Smiling, I exchanged handshakes and salutes with the monks, then returned to Tansong Temple with Guanghuai and the others.

Du Xinlang tried to follow, but I dissuaded her, asking her to take her attendants back to the Du Group by car. We could contact each other later.

Du Xinlang had waited outside for half the day specifically to meet me. Not letting her rest at the temple felt somewhat unkind.

But I had to explain that temples had their considerations. A beautiful woman following monks into a temple—just being seen by worshippers or monks would create impossible explanations and poor optics.

Though the temple stewards all knew about our relationship, since Xuanhong had taken tonsure, too many entanglements with female associates wouldn’t be appropriate.

Du Xinlang proved understanding. After a few emotional words, she left by car with her attendants.

We monks didn’t take the vehicles she’d brought either. Instead we followed Master Guanghuai on foot toward Tansong Temple.

Tansong Temple had once been an imperial temple, so its architecture was grand and imposing. A popular saying held: “First came Tansong Temple, then came Pingdu City.”

The temple drew many worshippers. Daily visitors offering incense or sightseeing even needed advance reservations. With government approval, part of the mountain had been designated as a scenic area. Incense donations went to the temple; ticket revenue went to the government tourism bureau.

Our group bypassed the main temple—too many worshippers there—and headed for the retreat compound.

The retreat compound lay in a mountain hollow about three li from the main temple, accessible only to those devoted to quiet cultivation. Ordinary worshippers stopped at the main temple.

Entering Tansong Temple’s retreat compound felt like leaving worldly clamor behind and stepping into a realm of tranquility.

Here stood a small courtyard nestled among Tansong trees and Lanyue flowers, known as Moonshadow Retreat—Master Xuanhong’s residence.

The courtyard’s quiet simplicity reflected Xuanhong’s understanding of life. Master Xuanhong hadn’t been a full-time monk. He often traveled through society, teaching, resolving doubts, and practicing medicine. His life was half in worldly splendor, half as a monk.

When I entered Moonshadow Retreat, the four chief monks and eight stewards had already gathered.

First Seat Guanghuai gave a brief explanation, then delivered a systematic report to me, the chief monks, and stewards on temple affairs since Xuanhong’s departure. These administrative matters had originally been Guanghuai’s responsibility.

Everyone performed a simple Dharma service, then dispersed. Only Guanghuai remained.

I was tired and wanted to rest alone, but Guanghuai clearly had matters to discuss privately.

Once everyone had gone, Guanghuai sat facing me by candlelight.

In a low voice, he told me about strange incidents at the temple.

He’d never dared publicize these events, fearing he’d alarm worshippers and panic the temple disciples. So he’d blamed everything on the Sweepers. But he knew none of it involved the Sweepers.

First, objects at the temple often moved through the air. Most incidents occurred when no one was present, but some disciples had accidentally witnessed them.

Second, the temple had recently encountered air vortices—what common folk called ghost walls. Temple disciples often lost their way for no reason, something unprecedented in centuries.

Third, half a month ago, a divine monk appeared claiming he’d come from the southeast sea islands. At first they thought he was an itinerant monk seeking lodging and meals. But he stayed half a month and refused to leave. Daily he moved among worshippers running scams, yet he did possess abilities. He could publicly perform passing through walls, retrieving distant objects, and human levitation, confusing many worshippers and monks.

Guanghuai had suspected the strange incidents were also this divine monk’s doing, but the man denied it flatly. Temple stewards couldn’t act against him either, worried about damaging the temple’s reputation.

After hearing Guanghuai’s account, I grew interested. I wanted to meet this divine monk first.

I rested quietly in the small courtyard for two days.

On the third morning, I changed into ordinary clothes and went directly to the plaza in front of Tansong Temple’s Pilu Hall—where, according to Guanghuai, the divine monk often performed.

Pilu Hall stood at the northern end of the central axis. Before it spread a large plaza, an ideal spot for worshippers to rest after offering incense at Mahavira Hall.

On either side of the plaza grew four thousand-year-old ginkgos called the Emperor Trees, their roots deep and foliage lush, providing shade. Legend said a Qing emperor had personally bestowed their title.

When I arrived, the plaza was already crowded with worshippers and tourists forming more than half a circle, watching the divine monk perform levitation.

I stood among them and watched. The divine monk pointed at an incense burner on the altar table and called out, “Rise!” The burner actually floated into the air and moved up and down before the crowd, with no visible support.

After the burner settled back, the divine monk sat cross-legged on the ground, formed a lotus mudra with one hand, and chanted sutras. Then his entire body slowly levitated.

His performance drew cheers and worship from everyone around. I even saw someone kneel on the spot, begging for blessings.

Just as he floated in the air preparing to finish, I pinched several silver needles between my fingers and shot them toward five points below him.

Someone cried out “Ow!” and the divine monk above immediately crashed down headfirst.

At the five points I’d struck, droplets of blood materialized in midair.

That’s right. Ever since meeting the invisible person at the Sweeper base, I’d concluded this so-called divine monk was merely performing tricks in cooperation with an invisible person.

Sure enough, exposed in one move.

Seeing he’d been humiliated, the divine monk realized an expert was present. He hastily gathered his things and fled. I didn’t want to embarrass him publicly, so I let him go.

The divine monk headed to the side hall to change clothes. Only then did I kick the invisible person following him, sending him flying. Not every invisible person was an expert like the one at the base. This one’s mental activity and movements had long been within my same-frequency sensing.

After hitting the ground, the invisible person let out an agonized wail.

I summoned the stewards and other monks to escort both the divine monk and the invisible person to an inner meditation room.

Because the invisible person was coughing blood, and because I’d pierced him with needles in five places—head, both knees, both elbows—he was no longer difficult to identify.

I then had someone call Guanghuai and the senior monks from the other three halls so we could interrogate him before everyone.