I woke up to the clamor and noise of the morning. It was just past 8 a.m., and the street below was already bustling with people. I was staying in a high-rise hotel, though the tallest building here only reached eight floors—this place didn't allow for anything taller.
I had booked a room near the plaza. Yesterday, everyone around the plaza and on the streets had been bewitched by a supernatural spell—they all went back to their lodgings to rest. Many people woke up with no memory of what had happened and were left wondering aloud, but no one could explain it. That was the work of the Underworld Denizens.
I remembered that this spell was used for soul control. It didn’t require anything too complicated—Underworld Denizens were born with this ability. By manipulating a person’s soul, they could learn things from their mouths that they wanted to know. The spell itself didn’t harm the person, but relied on the denizen’s own soul to control that of an ordinary person. In the past, though, this spell was never so powerful—it could now even direct people’s souls to act. The thought made me uneasy.
If someone used this spell for evil, it could be dangerous. But I quickly laughed at my own worries. Only those Underworld Denizens who possessed the power of the Four Saints could use it—and they were all people of faith. Anyone without faith, especially those with evil intentions, couldn’t wield this power.
I stretched, got out of bed, took a shower, and prepared to head out. I had no idea where Isabelle Frost and John Chou had gone, but since I had nothing else to do, I figured I’d stroll around—the area had plenty of interesting sights and good food.
As soon as I took the elevator down and stepped onto the street, I saw a crowd of young women—clearly tourists—gathered around a lama, taking photos with him. So it turned out the commotion that woke me up had come from right outside the hotel entrance.
I sighed and was about to leave when I realized that lama was Logan the Living Buddha. Fat-faced, big-eared, his complexion rosy and his skin pale, he looked genuinely kind. He was joking and chatting with the young women, making many of them laugh, and some even invited him to join them for fun.
I stood with my arms crossed, glaring at Logan. He noticed me and, after some effort, excused himself from the crowd. We walked into a nearby alley. I shot him a sideways glance. He just smiled—his figure and that smile really did make him look like a virtuous lama, especially with that ever-gentle expression and constant grin.
“Can’t you take off that disguise? You’re clearly a ghost—seeing you like this is just unsettling.”
Logan just shook his head with a smile.
“I’m here waiting for you, Roxie. John Chou asked me to be your guide—I can show you around, how about it? I know this place pretty well.”
I shook my head.
“Change into something else.”
In the end, Logan put on a suit, but somehow he looked just like a shrewd, money-grubbing businessman—the sly look on his face only made it worse.
“You really are a man of many faces, Logan.”
“Ah, I already said I wouldn’t wear it. Fine, I’ll take you to check out some of the bead shops nearby. Most of the stores here sell fakes, but I know which ones are real.”
I made a noncommittal sound. I did like the look of those pretty beads, but I wasn’t really interested. Still, I was bored, so I went along with Logan to browse.
All along the way, there were plenty of bead shops, scarf stores, art shops, and music stores, but they all had a strong religious vibe. I didn’t much care for places like that.
After a while, Logan led me to a somewhat secluded, barely populated little street. The road was just over four meters wide and a bit congested, far from the main drag. I glanced around—most of the buildings here were old, and the shops tiny, but a quick look showed that some of the items inside cost thousands, even tens of thousands.
“Long time no see.”
Logan stepped into a small shop, where an elderly man was dozing off. The old man cracked his eyes open, then suddenly widened them and, with a look of reverence, began bowing repeatedly to Logan.
“Living Buddha, why have you come down in person? Is there—?”
Logan made a shushing gesture.
“I’m just here to take my friend shopping—nothing special, don’t worry about it.”
The old man sized me up, his eyes showing a trace of doubt. I shot Logan a sidelong glance—wasn’t he supposed to be imprisoned? How did he have time to wander the streets? But judging by the attitude of those three old lamas toward Logan, there was no resentment at all. My confusion only grew.
“This is an authentic Buddhist Seven Treasures bracelet. Want one? I’ll have him give you a discount.”
I glanced at the beads in Logan’s hand, but felt no interest at all—these things just didn’t appeal to me.
“No thanks. If you like them, you can buy one yourself.”
Logan and the old man both looked at me in surprise. After a quick glance around, I was about to leave when Logan called out to me.
“Wait a second, Roxie. Even if you’re not interested, at least stay for a cup of tea—the flavor of tea on the plateau is something else.”
After getting the old man’s permission, Logan led me upstairs to a rustic room on the second floor and started making tea. I glanced around—there were plenty of Buddhist scriptures, thangkas, and similar items. I sighed, resting my chin on my hand as I watched Logan.
“You lied to me.”
I said each word slowly, and Logan just shook his head with a goofy smile.
“I didn’t lie. Most of the time, I really am locked up. Twenty-something years ago, I was still free—after all, I was the Living Buddha. But then those three guys announced my death, and I stopped coming down as much.”
“Then why did they lock you up?”
I stared coldly at Logan. He patted the back of his head and shook his head.
“Let’s not talk about that. It’s all ancient history now, and honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Did John Chou give you any other instructions?”
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I asked, a little angry. Logan glanced at me cautiously. I slapped the table and twisted his ear.
“So what exactly did John Chou ask you to do?”
“He told me to keep an eye on you, and not let you get into trouble.”
I stared at Logan in confusion and let go of his ear. He smiled and said,
“They’ve already gone back.”
I blinked in surprise.
“What do you mean? What’s going on?”
Logan sighed and said,
“There’s nothing we can do. Right now, John Chou wants to enter the Golden Temple and get something from inside. But I doubt those lamas will hand it over easily—they’ll fight with everything they’ve got. So John Chou is gathering his people and plans to take advantage of the chaos at the Golden Temple, to rob them while their guard is down.”
“That’s just despicable!”
I stared at Logan, puzzled—what exactly was it that John Chou wanted so badly? I couldn’t figure it out, and it seemed he didn’t want to use brute force, but preferred to keep threatening and negotiating.
“He said if you ask, I should tell you: if you want Zhang Qingyuan to come back, just behave yourself and stay put.”
For a moment, I was speechless. I didn’t even know what to say.
After having some tea, I left the little shop.
“You’re a woman—how can you not be interested in those things? I remember bringing other girls here before, and they all—”
“Because I’ve seen things far more beautiful and dazzling than those. To me, those are just decorations—meaningless. The tea’s good, though.”
I said, continuing to wander. I planned to get something to eat—it was almost ten o’clock. Suddenly, I noticed the sky in the distance was darkening, as if it was about to rain.
“Looks like I’d better stay inside for a while. I still feel uneasy.”
I said, but Logan gave me a puzzled look.
“There’s big trouble brewing at the Golden Temple. That’s not a rain cloud, Roxie.”
I looked again—sure enough, it wasn’t a rain cloud. The dark mass hanging over the sky looked like a storm at first glance, but on closer inspection, it was something else: a miasma of ill omen.
“As long as the Buddha Statue remains in the temple, the ghost imprisoned underground is kept in check. But once the statue leaves, the Golden Temple’s power starts to weaken. With only those three lamas left, they aren’t strong enough to suppress the evil spirit below.”
“It’s really that powerful?”
Logan nodded. Afterward, I grabbed a bite to eat and found a drink shop to sit in with Logan. He ate everything—and a lot of it, too.
“Wow, I haven’t eaten this much in ages. Thanks for treating me, Roxie.”
I sighed and bit my straw, watching the black mist over the Golden Temple—it was only getting thicker.
I overheard a lot of tourists talking about one thing: the Golden Temple had stopped admitting visitors, supposedly to hold a Buddhist ceremony.
“They’re calling for reinforcements. Honestly, it’d be better to get in touch with the main Buddhist sect.”
“Yeah, why be so stubborn? If they contacted the other people in the supernatural world, I doubt anyone would refuse to help at a time like this.”
Logan looked at me in confusion and asked,
“Roxie, haven’t you ever heard about it? The Buddhist purge nearly wiped out the esoteric sect, and it lost its full lineage. Those few Mahayana survivors had no choice but to flee here and continue the Buddhist tradition, cutting off all contact with the Central Plains. Only after the Tang dynasty did Buddhism start to flourish there. To this day, the lamas of the esoteric sect still refuse to mingle with other Buddhist groups, because in their eyes, the Central Plains Buddhists have become too worldly.”
I made a sound of acknowledgment and asked,
“But things are already at a crisis point—aren’t they worried? That evil spirit below is no joke. Even with such a powerful sealing array, it’s still able to release so much ghostly energy, and now it’s even leaking out.”