Nightfall descends upon the town on the city’s outskirts.
The fields, woods, and sparse houses all vanish into a world of hushed darkness.
Only a few lights flicker on and off, waiting for the return of night wanderers.
Within a vast Buddhist Hall, scripture banners flutter in the air, with the Treasure Umbrella hanging high.
The walls are adorned with magnificent colorful Thangkas, which captivate attention, filled with strange and mysterious religious patterns, telling ancient stories of the Dharma.
At this moment, the evening prayer reaches its climax, with the drum and bell sounds resonating and stirring the soul.
Hundreds of believers, laymen, and Lama monks surround the towering Dharma Platform at the center, sitting neatly in a circle, forming a solemn and sacred city of spiritual practice.
Their faces are devout, whispering prayers and chants that weave through the hall, as if conversing secretly with the statues of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas.
On the Dharma Platform sits a middle-aged Lama, about forty years old.
He’s garbed in a black and red robe with gold trim at the collar and cuffs, showcasing a subtle elegance.
His cheeks look gaunt, but they are sharp and defined.
A tortoiseshell rimmed pair of glasses rests on his high-bridged nose, adding a scholarly air, while two neatly trimmed mustaches lend him slight authority.
At this instant, his eyes are gently closed, and he’s in the standard Sitting Posture—steady like a mountain, seemingly one with the Dharma Platform.
His hands form a Sealing in front of his abdomen, with his fingertips lightly touching.
As he softly recites the scriptures, even the air seems to tremble slightly, leading the rhythm of the Buddhist sound, enveloping the Buddhist Hall in an atmosphere of solemnity, serenity, and peace.
Meanwhile, the chanting below the Dharma Platform grows more robust and powerful, like raging rivers, stirring with an endless force of faith.
The laymen and monks’ foreheads gradually bead with sweat, yet their eyes remain resolute, reflecting unwavering faith and pursuit of the Buddha under the lamplight.
The Buddhist sound wafts through the carved doors and windows of the temple, infiltrating the wooded hills outside, startling a few resting birds, then instantly merging back into the boundless darkness.
At this time, footsteps echo from outside.
A light creak resounds.
Two black-robed Lamas swiftly enter, their gaze directly fixed on the Lama sitting high on the Dharma Platform.
They pause slightly, seeming to have an important report but fearing to disturb this sacred practice.
Then carefully find an empty spot to sit, hands joined in prayer, joining with the others in chanting, quickly blending into the evening lesson.
Unnoticed, night deepens, and the chanting gradually weakens as the evening lesson nears its end.
The laymen and monks slowly rise, hands joined in reverence, bowing deeply to the presiding one on the Dharma Platform in gratitude for this day’s spiritual practice.
Afterward, they orderly exit the hall, disappearing into the corridor veiled by night.
Leaving only the flickering oil lamps and three figures.
The Lama sitting on the Dharma Platform slowly opens his eyes, glances at the two who entered before, lips barely moving:
"Zha Xi, Duo Ji, back?"
The two Lamas join hands in reverence, bowing and responding respectfully.
"This time out, how did it go?"
Noticing their empty hands, the Honorable’s brows furrow slightly: "What about the Golden Benba Bottle?"
Upon hearing the Honorable’s inquiry, Zha Xi steps forward, wearing a slight expression of regret, and reports:
"Today, we were sent by the Honorable’s order to search for the Holy Object’s whereabouts, encountering some obstacles, but fortunately, didn’t disgrace our mission, receiving a crucial piece of information."
Seeing the disciple’s speech evasive, obviously failing to complete the task as hoped, the Honorable shows a hint of displeasure, orders in a deep voice:
Zha Xi swallows saliva, deciding to report truthfully:
"Following your prediction, we went to the old street in search of the Holy Object appearance, after inquiries, we targeted a certain antique dealer named Xu Sanduo, who recently obtained something from West Mountain Ancient Tomb, suspected to be the Golden Benba Bottle we sought, thus went to investigate."
"Upon entering the shop, we weren’t circumspect and revealed our intention directly to the shopkeeper, thinking he’d cooperate obediently, being just an ordinary merchant and witnessing such a lineup."
"However, Xu Sanduo feigned ignorance, refusing to divulge the truth. In a moment of impatience, I resorted to coercion tactics, showing strength to make him comply."
"But unexpectedly, an adept in the shop caught us off guard..."
Saying this, the impatient Duo Ji interjects:
"Honorable, that person was highly skilled in martial arts, defeating Zha Xi with a single strike, his methods were swift and harsh."
"I was standing guard at the door, wanted to help but couldn’t in time, was even thrown down by him, I was planning to use my ability to confront him, but Zha Xi brother stopped me..."
Upon hearing this, the Honorable frowns deeper, eyes full of puzzlement:
"Merely using martial arts can subdue both of you?"
Seeing this, Zha Xi quickly adds:
"Honorable, that person not only had exquisite martial arts, but their Strength was exceptionally overwhelming, if measured by the Dragon Elephant Wisdom level, they’d at least be at the Eighth Layer, I’ve trained to the Fifth Layer now, compared to them, it’s a realm apart, completely powerless."
He carefully explains to prove it wasn’t his incompetence, but that the opponent was indeed too formidable, exceeding the capability limits.
The Honorable’s gaze narrows slightly, contemplatively pondering when such a formidable figure emerged within the Martial World of East Capital.