Just like the Daoist realm, although the Buddhist cultivators in the Consciousness Realm only have one Deer Park, the scriptures passed down by their ancestors are countless, and the schools of thought are diverse, including many peculiar tales that teach you to attain Buddhahood in unconventional ways.
Lixiang maintained his stern expression, earnestly expounding the supreme Dharma: “The union of emptiness and bliss, as the saying goes, is non-dual and indistinguishable, giving rise to the four joys—joy, supreme joy, extraordinary joy, and innate joy. Only then can one realize the nature of emptiness.”
In simpler terms, it’s about contemplating life during moments of clarity, making everything seem dull and uninteresting.
Xue Ying seemed to grasp it vaguely, understanding that it could enhance her cultivation. Her eyes sparkled as she asked, “Dual cultivation—is it with a sword cultivator?”
Lixiang hesitated for a few seconds. “We don’t really encourage objectophilia here.”
No, didn’t you see that massive ghost behind you? You sword cultivators are really something—treating your swords as your wives, even considering them the first choice for dual cultivation.
Compared to Lixiang’s confusion, Cen Wuwang’s response was more direct: “Yaoguang is mine.”
His words carried an inexplicable killing intent. Xue Ying turned to face him squarely. “When I entrusted Bailu to you, what did you promise me?”
Cen Wuwang remained silent, prompting Xue Ying to raise her voice sharply. “How many years did Bailu stay with me? Through spring and summer, enduring heat and cold, without complaint or regret. Back then, you took Bailu from me to suppress the dragon and phoenix clans. It was a major matter, and I couldn’t refuse. But you lost it! It was my only sword, and you lost it just like that, without even a hint of remorse!”
This accusation finally drew a response from Cen Wuwang. “I never promised you.”
Meeting Xue Ying’s gaze, he said calmly, “Even without that accident, I had no intention of returning Bailu to you.”
Despite Xue Ying’s frosty expression and overwhelming sword intent, Cen Wuwang remained unfazed, twisting the knife further. “Bailu suits me well. Besides, I have no intention of handing Yaoguang over to you either.”
Currently, he couldn’t fully unleash Yaoguang’s power, so using Bailu was fine. But he wasn’t done yet. Cen Wuwang stretched out his hand to Xue Ying and said expressionlessly, “Return it.”
Xue Ying was almost amused by his audacity. After ruining her Bailu, he now wanted Yaoguang back? Did everything have to go his way?
“Do you really think you’re in any position to say that to me now?” Xue Ying sneered. “Without a physical body, your cultivation has regressed. Cen Wuwang, are you even worthy?”
Cen Wuwang thought he was perfectly worthy. Weakness was temporary. He said to Xue Ying, “Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—don’t mock the youth for their poverty.”
Xue Ying shot back, “Stop pretending to be young, you old cucumber. Calling yourself a ‘youth’? Even I feel embarrassed for you.”
Cen Wuwang paused. If Yuxuzi, with his white beard, could call himself a “young man,” why couldn’t he be a “youth”? Besides… “I am your master.”
Xue Ying: “Shut up, you waste!”
She didn’t care if Cen Wuwang would seek revenge later. She decided to act first and ask questions later, turning to Lixiang, who had been watching the drama unfold. “Master, is there any way for me to merge with Yaoguang, becoming one with the sword?”
That way, even if Cen Wuwang regained his strength, he wouldn’t be able to reclaim Yaoguang.
Lixiang couldn’t understand Xue Ying’s logic. Shouldn’t sword cultivators be the ones exploring the joys of sword-body fusion? Why ask a Buddhist cultivator?
“Apologies, Deer Park doesn’t offer that service.”
By the end of the conversation, Lixiang gave up on saving the fool. The Buddha doesn’t save idiots—let the Daoist Trinity handle it. He instructed Xue Ying to place the jade pendant on the shrine, offering incense three times a day to solidify Cen Wuwang’s soul using the accumulated spiritual energy of Deer Park. At least the trip wouldn’t be wasted. As for the offerings…
Xue Ying pulled out a small figurine of Cen Wuwang from who-knows-where, placed it behind the incense burner, and added a bouquet of white chrysanthemums. When she looked up, she saw Cen Wuwang standing nearby, eyeing the blooming chrysanthemums with confusion. “What’s this for?”
Xue Ying adjusted the figurine, seeing no issue. “Offerings.”
After all, Cen Wuwang was already dead. Presenting white chrysanthemums to the deceased was perfectly appropriate.
Cen Wuwang frowned. “Replace them with tuition gifts.”
Xue Ying feigned ignorance. “That might not be appropriate. The masters here are vegetarians. Putting out dried meat might damage relations between the Daoist and Consciousness Realms.”
White chrysanthemums were free, but tuition gifts had to at least be stacked like a pagoda for appearances.
Shen Jin mercilessly tore off Xue Ying’s mask. “Tuition gifts can be spirit stones.”
Back in the day, tuition was paid with dried meat, but now that they were cultivating immortality, who still gnawed on beef jerky?
Xue Ying ignored him. She bowed to Cen Wuwang, clasping her hands in prayer with such devotion that she might as well have wished him an early reincarnation.
After dealing with Cen Wuwang, the next issue was Shen Jin behind bars. Cen Wuwang’s solution was simple: cleanse him and be done with it. Xue Ying objected, and the two engaged in a heated debate about the Demon Lord.
Cen Wuwang: “Make him three and a half.”
Xue Ying: “No three and a half.”
Cen Wuwang: “What’s wrong with three and a half?”
“Just no three and a half. No three and a half.”
As the master and disciple bickered again, Lixiang had to step in. “Fellow Daoists, I have a suggestion. Demon Lord Shen Jin is the ruler of the Demon Realm, and there have been many misunderstandings between our Consciousness Realm and the Demon Realm. In these critical times, rashly acting against the Demon Lord might reignite the flames of war between our realms, leading to greater losses. In my humble opinion, peace comes first, friendship second.”
His words made sense, but fundamentally, Shen Jin was hiding in Deer Park because Xue Ying and Cen Wuwang already knew his identity. If things went south, they could always hold a sword to his neck and say, “Let’s be friends.” Deer Park, however, couldn’t do that. To negotiate peace with Shen Jin, Deer Park would have to take the lead.
Xue Ying nodded. If they could talk it out, there was no need to fight. “Then, Master, what do you suggest…?”
Lixiang pondered for a moment. “Deer Park has no intention of making enemies with the Demon Realm.”
If what Xue Ying said was true, Deer Park would immediately seek friendship with the Demon Realm. Demon crystals were famously useful, and Lixiang was more than willing to sign a friendly agreement—one side mining, the other selling, aiming to outcompete the merchants of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion.
Even if Deer Park had no such plans, they couldn’t let the Heavenly Sound Pavilion take the advantage.
But there was a problem. Earlier, Lixiang had mistaken Shen Jin for Cen Wuwang’s inner demon and spoken harshly. Now, suddenly asking if the patron would donate incense money would likely make Shen Jin view Deer Park as a second Tai Xuan Sect.
“Why are you suddenly being nice to me? Are you all lining up to be my dad?”
Lixiang carefully considered his words and asked Xue Ying for advice. “As you see, if I offer clear water and fresh flowers, and invite him to stay in a golden house, would that suffice?”
Cen Wuwang interjected, “Three and a half.”
Compared to a scheming Demon Lord, a toddler would be easier to handle.
Xue Ying thought it wasn’t a good idea, ignoring Cen Wuwang and discussing with Lixiang. “Master, there’s a saying: ‘Unrequested kindness often hides ulterior motives.’”
Lixiang also ignored Cen Wuwang. “Monks do not lie. I do have a request.”
His usually stern face showed a rare hint of innocence, leaving Xue Ying speechless. She tentatively suggested, “Sincerity might work.”
Before Lixiang could elaborate, Cen Wuwang spoke again. “Why are you ignoring me?”
Xue Ying finally turned to him and delivered a personal insult. “As everyone knows, the dead have no rights.”
Cen Wuwang: “I am a living soul.”
Xue Ying: “You’re practically enshrined in the temple already. Do I have to ask you outright, ‘Are you dead?’”
Cen Wuwang: “I’m not dead.”
Lixiang quickly interrupted their philosophical debate. “Fellow Daoists, for the sake of the Consciousness Realm’s present and future, we are willing to turn enemies into friends with the Demon Lord. Let’s not dwell on this further.”
For the Consciousness Realm, for Deer Park, for the Buddha’s son—this “golden house” would definitely house its “beauty.”
With this thought, Lixiang stood tall, exuding righteous energy. The golden light behind him grew brighter as he said to Xue Ying, “Thank you for your guidance.”
Xue Ying nodded and watched Lixiang leave, about to resume her debate with Cen Wuwang about life and death. But Lixiang turned back at the door. “Aren’t you coming, Fellow Daoist?”
Xue Ying didn’t think much of it. “I won’t disturb you, Master.”
Lixiang lingered, his stern face filled with compassion for all beings. “You and the Demon Lord had a verbal altercation earlier. Why not let me mediate and reconcile the two of you?”
Xue Ying waved it off. “It’s fine. I’ll just spar with him later. Shen Jin is easy to talk to.”
To her surprise, Lixiang pulled out a vajra and said with Buddha-like compassion, “Fellow Daoist, refrain from adding to your karma of killing.”
Xue Ying: “…”
Master, could you at least hide the murderous intent in your eyes before saying that?
Under Lixiang’s persuasion, Xue Ying had an epiphany and admitted she needed his help. “Shen Jin and I have many misunderstandings. I do need your mediation.”
Perhaps it was her imagination, but Xue Ying thought she saw Lixiang visibly relax. Was this guardian of the Buddha’s son actually nervous?
Regardless, Xue Ying accompanied Lixiang to meet Shen Jin. The visitation took place in the pagoda forest at the back of the temple, where generations of high monks had passed away. Unlike the grandeur of the front hall, the pagoda forest was desolate, with withered trees and scattered leaves underfoot. At the end stood a pagoda, which Xue Ying only recognized upon closer inspection.
Leifeng Pagoda.
Xue Ying was stunned and whispered to Lixiang, “Master, have you ever imprisoned a snake demon here?”
Lixiang was baffled. “What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t it called Leifeng Pagoda?”
“A high monk of the past, whose Dharma name was Leifeng, passed away in this pagoda. He saved countless lives and possessed great wisdom. To commemorate him, the original Miaoyin Pagoda was renamed Leifeng Pagoda.” Lixiang’s stern gaze silenced Xue Ying’s unspoken “husband” comment.
Xue Ying nodded in understanding. Rather than probing the origins of this monk, it was better to focus on how to talk things out with Shen Jin.
Lixiang was indeed nervous. At the door, he hesitated like someone passing their home three times without entering. He clenched his fists and cleared his throat. “Fellow Daoist, you go first.”
Xue Ying guessed he was used to scolding people and found it awkward to suddenly flatter Shen Jin.
She didn’t point out his discomfort and entered to find Shen Jin. The interior of Leifeng Pagoda was simple, with only a Buddhist shrine and a meditation cushion. The painted pillars were fading, and the only brightness came from the sunlight streaming in from above, casting a holy glow over the pagoda.
Shen Jin was curled up on the second floor. Lixiang hadn’t mistreated him—his limbs were intact, and a plate of steamed buns sat before him as a gesture of Deer Park’s goodwill.
But Shen Jin’s expression was far from friendly. Since ancient times, Buddhism and demons had been opposed. Leifeng Pagoda housed the relics and writings of generations of high monks. To Shen Jin, staying here was no different from being in a lotus pond. His hair had turned red, and demonic patterns covered half his face. He had been listless in the corner but jumped up when he saw Xue Ying and Lixiang, sneering, “Well, well, if it isn’t the Sword Immortal’s disciple gracing this lowly demon with her presence.”
Xue Ying nodded. “Yes, it’s your dad.”
Shen Jin choked on his remaining words. He had intended to insult Xue Ying but knew better than to engage in a war of words with her. As for physical retaliation—he cowardly backed down.
Unaware of Shen Jin’s inner turmoil, Xue Ying extended a hand for the sake of peace across the four realms. “I was wrong to hit and scold you before, but it was for your own good. Can you forgive me? I still want to be friends.”
Her tone was sincere. If not for the veil, she might have batted her big, innocent eyes at him.
Shen Jin’s response was to spit and snap, “In your dreams.”
Xue Ying didn’t retaliate. She simply drew Yaoguang from her back and sat down to polish the sword.
The action seemed ordinary, no different from any other sword cultivator. But Shen Jin’s mind screamed warnings of impending doom. After a moment of silence, he turned to Lixiang, who looked like he had something to say, and initiated conversation. “You here to be friends too?”
Lixiang nodded stiffly, conflicted. As a guardian of the Buddha’s son, he should have been righteous, slaying demons and monsters. But the Demon Realm’s crystals were just too tempting.
As a principled Buddhist, he shouldn’t bow to mere crystals. But he had the Buddha’s son and Deer Park to think of… Lixiang took a deep breath and barked, “Demon Lord!”
Shen Jin flinched at the killing intent and stood up defensively. “What do you want?”
Lixiang answered with action. For the sake of peace between realms, he bravely took the first step.
Shen Jin took a step back.
Lixiang took a second step.
Shen Jin retreated further.
Finally, Shen Jin’s back hit the wall. His hands clawed at it silently, his legs trembling. Yet, he still held his head high, maintaining the pride of a demon. “Hmph.”
Lixiang raised his hand and brushed past Shen Jin’s face, leaving a deep mark on the wall with his Vajra Palm. He leaned in, his expression unreadable.
After a long pause, Lixiang spoke.
“Let’s be friends.”
“Meow?”
When Shen Jin left Leifeng Pagoda, his head was still spinning. His feet felt like cotton, and his vision was filled with Lixiang’s bald head. Only when his gaze focused on the udumbara flower did he realize he had somehow become Deer Park’s honored guest.
Lixiang seemed to be trying to please him.
This couldn’t be real. Shen Jin snapped back to attention. Just moments ago, they had been at each other’s throats. Now they wanted to be friends? There had to be a scheme.
He steeled himself, ready for whatever came next.
The udumbara flower resided in the Mirror Platform, Deer Park’s back garden—a place of clear waters, beautiful flowers, and splendid scenery. Especially the udumbara on the lotus platform, embodying the phrase “a feast for the eyes.”
Youtan wasn’t very familiar with Shen Jin, but he was delighted to see Xue Ying. Taking advantage of the moment when Lixiang approached to talk to him, he greeted Xue Ying, “How many days will Dad be staying in the Realm of Consciousness?”
Xue Ying, imitating Shen Jin, found a cushion to sit on, adjusting her position slightly before answering, “We’ll leave once we find the passage.”
During the previous upheaval among the Four Realms, the barriers had fractured, with cracks of varying depths. Combined with the time discrepancies, the passage Shen Jin and the others had used earlier was likely sealed off by Lixiang and his group with asphalt. Finding a new passage would take time.
She added, “We’ll leave together with him.”
Only then did Youtan shift his gaze to Shen Jin. He had met Shen Jin once before at the Tai Xuan Sect. Seeing Shen Jin’s flamboyant red hair now, he assumed, like Lixiang, that the man before him had succumbed to demonic influences. He offered a benevolent smile and said, “Senior, it seems your condition is quite severe.”
Before Shen Jin could retort about Youtan pretending to be a charlatan, Youtan conjured a white lotus in his hand and extended it directly toward Shen Jin, smiling as innocently as the flower itself. “Senior, you’re ill, and I have the cure.”
The “cure” was far too effective. The white lotus smacked Shen Jin square in the face, and combined with the injuries he had sustained earlier at Leifeng Pagoda, he vomited three liters of blood and collapsed on the spot. Lixiang’s horrified voice screamed in Xue Ying’s ear, “Buddha—no, hurry, call a demon!”
Youtan seemed to realize his mistake, looking at Xue Ying with a lost expression, like a helpless child. “Dad, did I do something wrong?”
Xue Ying swallowed a piece of fruit and demonstrated what it meant to be a doting “mom fan,” blindly defending her own. “No, you didn’t. The mistake is Shen Jin’s—he’s just too weak.”
If he couldn’t even withstand a single Pure Land Lotus, the future of the Demon Realm was truly bleak.
While Xue Ying comforted Youtan, Lixiang was frantic. If Shen Jin died, the Realms of Consciousness and the Demon Realm would be doomed. Unfortunately, his Deer Park was full of monks, none of whom knew any demonic magic. Lixiang picked up his vajra scepter, then put it down again. A healing spell or divine light might just send this demon straight to the afterlife. In desperation, he turned to Xue Ying. “Fellow Daoist, what do you think…?”
Xue Ying spread her hands. Buddhism and Daoism were similar—both were righteous paths, and occasionally they even swapped robes without issue. But demons? “Great Master, I can’t help either. You know how it is with us sword cultivators—we’re good at killing, not saving.”
Asking her to heal someone was like asking her to carry a coffin—utterly impractical.
Youtan, however, was eager to try. “Lixiang, this was my mistake. I want to make amends and save the senior.”
Lixiang didn’t know how to respond. Youtan’s medical skills were indeed excellent—but only on normal people. With a smile and a whispered “Praise the Lord,” his patients would recover without medicine. But this patient was Shen Jin…
“You’ve devoted years to studying Buddhism and know little of the Demon Realm. Moreover, the Demon Sovereign is inhabiting the Sword Immortal’s body, already weakened and constrained.”
Lixiang listed countless reasons before finally concluding, “The Buddha Child is not at fault. The fault lies with Shen Jin.”
It’s all your fault—if you can’t even handle a Pure Land Lotus, what kind of Demon Sovereign are you?
Youtan nodded thoughtfully, his wounded heart slightly soothed by a saintly glow. “Then I’ll sing a song for the Demon Sovereign.”
Lixiang’s face twisted in pain. “Using poison to fight poison… I suppose it’s worth a try.”
Before Xue Ying could grasp his meaning, Lixiang produced two balls of cotton and handed them to her, pointing to his own ears.
When Youtan began singing, Xue Ying understood what true “divine music” sounded like.
She quickly covered her ears. Shen Jin, lying on the ground, wasn’t so lucky. He felt himself sinking into darkness, exhausted and desperate for sleep, only to be dragged back by a voice screeching in his ear, as if countless angels were singing “Hallelujah” around him. With immense effort, Shen Jin managed to gasp out:
“Stop singing.”
He had literally clawed his way back from the underworld just to beg for silence.
Seeing Shen Jin struggle back to consciousness, Youtan stopped singing and smiled gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the Demon Sovereign was so frail. Next time, I won’t offer a Pure Land Lotus. Can you forgive me, Senior?”
Shen Jin had been purified to the brink of soul detachment by the lotus, and the “divine music” had nearly finished him off. Before he could even curse, Youtan’s words made him want to scream “hypocrite!” He knew these Buddhist monks were up to no good.
“Forgive you? Forgive you for what? For knowing full well that demons can’t endure Pure Land Lotuses and still shoving one in my face?”
Halfway through his rant, Youtan’s eyes filled with remorse. He lowered his hands, looking deeply wounded. That was the last straw—Xue Ying immediately shouted, “Shen Jin, shut up!”
Before Shen Jin could react, Xue Ying launched into a tirade. “The Buddha Child meant well! How dare you twist his kindness? If you hadn’t forcibly taken my master’s body, he wouldn’t have given you the Pure Land Lotus!”
Lixiang chimed in, “Indeed, our Deer Park’s Pure Land Lotus is highly effective—specifically for demons. The Buddha Child merely mistook the Demon Sovereign for the Sword Immortal’s inner demon and wanted to help. Since it was all a misunderstanding, why not forgive him?”
Shen Jin was livid. “So now it’s my fault?”
Lixiang didn’t reply, but his entire being radiated his devotion as Youtan’s loyal follower, fanboy, and doting “mom fan.”
Xue Ying was more direct. “Apologize to the Buddha Child right now.”
Shen Jin couldn’t comprehend this world. He was the victim—why should he apologize to his attacker? “I refuse.”
“Apologize! Apologize!”
“No! Never!”
As the two were about to come to blows, Youtan intervened. “Dad, don’t be angry. This was my mistake.”
He turned to Shen Jin, noticing that his red hair was fading—a sign that his injuries were severe, possibly even damaging his soul. Out of compassion, Youtan offered, “As Lixiang said, if the Demon Sovereign doesn’t mind, I’m willing to offer myself as sustenance.”
The declaration stunned both of them. Shen Jin’s anger faded as he scrutinized Youtan, his tone ambiguous. “Offer yourself? How, exactly?”
Youtan held the Pure Land Lotus, smiling like a saint. “By staying by your side, sharing meals and lodging.”
Lixiang couldn’t bear it. “Buddha Child, the Demon Sovereign may be special, but you shouldn’t risk yourself. Besides, you’re currently guarding the barrier and can’t move freely. How could you stay with him? Let me—”
Before Lixiang could finish, Shen Jin cut in. “Deal.”
Youtan was the Deer Park’s treasure. If he stayed by Youtan’s side, these monks would be too worried to eat or sleep.
And if the opportunity arose… Shen Jin’s eyes darkened.
Killing the Buddha Child would be worth it.
Shen Jin’s agreement left Lixiang with no room to argue. He looked to Xue Ying, hoping this outsider would object.
Xue Ying understood Lixiang’s motherly concerns—fear that Youtan would eat poorly, sleep poorly, or be corrupted. Since Shen Jin wouldn’t stay long anyway, she rubbed her hands together. “Count me in.”
Shen Jin was vehemently opposed. With Xue Ying around, how could he harm Youtan?
“Two men alone would be boring. With me, we can have three.”
Shen Jin twitched. “Three for what?”
Xue Ying replied, “Playing cards. What else? Mahjong needs four—want to join, Lixiang?”
Lixiang shook his head. As the Buddha Child’s guardian and the temple’s chief administrator, he was responsible for everything from seasonal events to cafeteria menus. He had no time for mahjong.
He added, “We abstain from gambling. Fellow Daoist, know your limits.”
Don’t corrupt our Buddha Child!
Xue Ying nodded dismissively. Sensing her stubbornness, Lixiang assigned a few young monks to keep an eye on her. If he couldn’t control Shen Jin, he could at least handle Xue Ying.
With these little monks around, mahjong was out of the question. The three sat in silence until Youtan found something to do—tutoring the young monks. Bored, Xue Ying tried to join, but Youtan politely declined.
Xue Ying insisted, “Buddhism and Daoism are one. Sharing insights might spark new ideas.”
Youtan explained, “Dad, these are beginners. They’re only learning basic principles.”
Xue Ying, confident in her intellect, turned to one of the young monks. “If you have questions, ask me.”
The little boy blinked his big eyes and raised his notebook. “I don’t understand this one.”
Xue Ying glanced at it and immediately shut her mouth.
Her silence drew a scoff from Shen Jin. She looked up, deadpan. “Think you’re so smart?”
Shen Jin adjusted his robes, sitting with one leg raised, exuding regal arrogance. He hadn’t conquered the Demon Realm’s three clans with brute strength alone.
“Smarter than some sword cultivators.”
Xue Ying handed him the notebook. The problem read:
*Between the tens and units digits of a two-digit natural number, insert a digit from 0 to 9, turning it into a three-digit number. Some two-digit numbers, when a specific digit is inserted, become three-digit numbers exactly nine times the original. How many such three-digit numbers exist?*
Why could he understand every word individually, but not the whole thing?
Shen Jin refused to admit he couldn’t solve it. Xue Ying was more direct. “Dad, this is too hard.”
Youtan casually wrote the answer, checked the others’ work, and marked them with red ticks. “Is it? This is elementary-level.”
Xue Ying wisely chose not to embarrass herself further. She memorized the problem to torment Cen Wuwang later.
The rest of the time was spent listening to incomprehensible lessons. After supervising the young monks, Youtan noticed Xue Ying and Shen Jin struggling with the problem and smiled like a proud teacher. “Do Dad and the Demon Sovereign like math? I have a set of Five-Three…”
“No thanks.” Xue Ying quickly put away her notes, launching into a philosophical speech. “The Dao is vast, but one path is enough for a lifetime.”
Youtan pondered this. Since childhood, he had studied countless texts, debating Buddhism with monks even as a child. But the more he learned, the vaster Buddhism seemed, dwarfing the individual. Xue Ying’s words struck a chord. “Dad is right. One can’t bite off more than one can chew.”
He should focus on one path. Like the “Joyful Buddha” Lixiang had mentioned…
Xue Ying salvaged some dignity, while Shen Jin remained aloof, his expression unreadable. He finally spoke, his voice cool. “So this is the Deer Park’s skill? Controlling others with words. Pathetic.”
He would never envy the Deer Park’s elite education. Never!
Xue Ying saw through his act and whispered to Youtan, “Men lie through their teeth. He acts all high and mighty, but inside, he’s seething with envy.”
Shen Jin: “Slander! Lies!”
Xue Ying ignored him. After ranting, Shen Jin grew tired and hungry. The fruit platter had been devoured by Xue Ying, leaving only a plate of flowers.
Shen Jin had assumed they were decorative until Youtan started eating them. He found it bizarre. “You eat… flowers?”
A grown man eating petals like some delicate maiden—what was wrong with him?
Xue Ying saw no issue, mimicking Youtan. “Fairies live on dew. What’s wrong with the Buddha Child eating flowers?”
Youtan explained, “I heard of ascetics practicing fasting and wanted to try it.”
Xue Ying found this amusing. Most cultivators were used to living on air—eating or not made little difference.
“And?”
Youtan admitted, “Being a cultivator is great.”
No hunger, no thirst, eating whatever you wanted. No wonder everyone wanted to cultivate.
Shen Jin despised the Deer Park’s hypocritical monks. He seized the chance to mock Youtan. “Call yourself a Buddha Child? Just another hedonist.”
Youtan’s gaze was clear. “True.”
His bluntness left Shen Jin speechless. Shouldn’t the Buddha Child defend himself? Something about noble intentions despite luxury?
“You—”
Youtan cut him off. “I was born in Tai Su Valley, raised in Deer Park, enlightened by my elders. Compared to the suffering masses, I’m fortunate. Today, the Demon Sovereign sits with me to discuss others’ hardships—that itself is a blessing for both realms.”
Shen Jin cursed inwardly. The monk’s sophistry was infuriating. Lacking a rebuttal, he fell silent.
The conversation died there. After a long day, Xue Ying took over from Lixiang and went to find Cen Wuwang.
Following Lixiang’s instructions, the side hall held only Cen Wuwang’s ghostly form, wreathed in incense smoke.
A pang of sadness struck Xue Ying. She stepped forward. “Master.”
Cen Wuwang slowly turned his head—his first time as a ghost, and he’d forgotten to turn his body. The result was pure horror.
“If Yaoguang had eyes, it’d kill you first.”
Cen Wuwang dragged the rest of himself over, too tired to argue. “Well?”
“Shen Jin’s chatting with the Buddha Child. Lixiang says finding a passage will take a few more days. Oh, and…”
Xue Ying pulled out the math problem. “They say a teacher’s duty is to impart wisdom. Care to try?”
Xue Ying spread out her exercise problems, and Cen Wuwang drifted over casually. His spectral form brushed past Xue Ying’s temple, but since he had no physical body, she didn’t feel a thing. Maintaining this posture, she asked him,
“Master, do you know how to solve this?”
She was waiting for Cen Wuwang to say no, hoping to regain some dignity. To her surprise, after glancing at it, he retorted, “You don’t know?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Cen Wuwang’s expression turned stern. “Arithmetic is the foundation of our sect. As the senior disciple, it’s one thing if your swordsmanship is mediocre, but to lack even basic arithmetic skills? If this continues, not only will you drag yourself down, but you’ll bring ruin to the sect—a crime deserving of death.”
Being scolded out of the blue left Xue Ying stunned. Now she was being accused of endangering the entire sect? She couldn’t accept that. “The Tai Xuan Sect is a swordsmanship academy, not a finance university. Not being proficient in arithmetic is perfectly normal. Besides, who was the bastard who taught me? You should know better than anyone!”
Cen Wuwang pondered for a moment. “Before we left, the sect leader mentioned that Wen An showed great promise and might inherit his position early. But now it seems Wen An is too focused on petty gains and lacks the qualities to lead.”
Xue Ying hadn’t expected Cen Wuwang to shift the blame onto Wen An. “You’re my master.”
Cen Wuwang replied, “Didn’t you say I only taught you for three years and don’t deserve to be called your master? In that case, blaming Wen An isn’t wrong.”
Xue Ying, “…”
In the end, they parted on bad terms.
A few days later, news about the passageway finally surfaced. It was said that a rift had opened in the northwest. The area was remote, with few visitors—a perfect “highway.”
“But…”
Xue Ying tightened her wristband and noticed Lixiang hesitating, so she took the initiative to ask, “But what?”
“That area belongs to the Tian Yin Pavilion.”
More followers naturally meant more benefits, and with frequent interactions, conflicts were inevitable. To avoid bloodshed, the two factions had drawn boundaries: neither would interfere with the other’s affairs. They’d live and die without crossing paths—peacefully.
“If you wish to go, we cannot guide you.”
After hearing the explanation, Xue Ying wasn’t angry. She replied straightforwardly, “Please draw me a map, Master. I’ll scout it out first. If it’s viable, I’ll set off in a few days.”
There was no better solution, so the matter was settled. After receiving the map from Lixiang, Xue Ying couldn’t be bothered to inform Cen Wuwang and left directly.
The northwest region was no different from the rest of the Shijie—endless yellow sand, a quietly flowing sea of blood, and a few withered trees dotting the desolate landscape.
Despite the bleak surroundings, there were plenty of people. Before reaching her destination, shouts carried by the wind reached her ears. A banner fluttered in the sandy expanse, and atop a makeshift stage, a man spoke more eloquently than a singer. The crowd below cheered enthusiastically.
“No fear of hardship, no fear of fatigue! Only through relentless effort can we live better lives. Now, let’s hear Zhang San’s story—how he went from an unknown nobody to a renowned tycoon!”
Moving closer, his words became clearer. “A wise man named Lu once said, ‘The most profitable methods are all in the penal code.’ But we’re law-abiding citizens! We would never resort to deceit…”
“Yes, I invested in the ‘gold’ of this desert, managed by the Ponzi Corporation. My dearest friends, just hand over your money to them, and they’ll give you a 10% return. It’s real! Bring your friends and family, and you’ll even get a fee waiver!”
The speaker was a man in his thirties with sun-tanned skin and a seemingly honest smile.
Xue Ying listened for a while before the Ponzi Corporation’s representatives noticed her. Zhang San pointed at her and shouted, “Friend from afar, are you tempted too?”
Xue Ying actually was a little tempted. “Can I join?”
Zhang San led his massive entourage toward her. To him, recruiting an outsider like Xue Ying would only boost his prestige.
*Look, even a wealthy outsider is interested in us. You bumpkins better hurry up and pay!*
“Yes! For just 998, you can become a member of the Ponzi Corporation! Year-end dividends, free vacations—what are you waiting for? Join us now!”
Zhang San’s spiel was relentless, his mouth practically dry. Xue Ying finally showed a hint of embarrassment. “I really do want to join.”
Zhang San grew even more excited. “Friend, join us, and we’ll be like siblings!”
“But I don’t have much money.”
Zhang San, “…”
“Oh, you mentioned year-end dividends. Could you lend me some money first? We’ll write an IOU, and I’ll pay you back with the dividends. How about it? In eight or ten years, the debt will be cleared, and we’ll be calling each other ‘sis’ by then.”
Xue Ying’s imagination ran wild. Cultivators had one thing in abundance—longevity. After seven or eight hundred years, she’d be the Ponzi Corporation’s biggest shareholder.
Zhang San said, “My dear foreign friend, I have another engagement. I’m afraid I can’t accompany you further.”
*Poor trash dreaming of being a shareholder? Pah!*
Since he had business to attend to, and so did she, further discussion was pointless. Just as she was about to bid farewell, a sharp voice rang out from above.
“The Holy Maiden approaches! Clear the way!”
Xue Ying instinctively looked up. A group of people hovered mid-air—familiar faces from the Tian Yin Pavilion.
Bare-limbed, adorned with jewels, and wielding various musical instruments, they exuded an air of sanctity.
Before she could greet their leader, Zhang Yue, the crowd around her scattered. The Tian Yin Pavilion disciples summoned their magical treasures—a classic case of cops chasing robbers.
Zhang Yue’s pipa smashed straight onto Zhang San’s head, knocking him out cold. A slower escapee knelt, tears streaming. “Officer, I was coerced!”
Zhang Yue stepped on Zhang San’s back, glanced at him, then signaled for her subordinates to haul him away. Once the scene was under control, she crossed her arms and scrutinized Xue Ying, who stood alone in the sand.
She looked just as she had in Yunmengze—wearing the same perpetually unwashed white robe, a veil over her face, and a sword strapped to her back. She trotted over with a sweet, “Long time no see!”
Zhang Yue snorted. “Who’s ‘long time no see’ with you? Disciple of the Sword Immortal, confess! What’s your relationship with this Ponzi Corporation? Spill it, and you’ll suffer less.”
The situation was clear. Xue Ying grabbed Zhang Yue’s hand. “Fellow cultivator, you must uphold justice for me! This Ponzi Corporation tried to trick me into signing a contract. If you hadn’t arrived in time, I’d have fallen into their clutches!”
Zhang San, now conscious, jumped up in fury. “Lies! I’d never sign a contract with a broke loser!”
Xue Ying spread her hands. “Exactly. You look down on me—I’m not your client. That means we have no relationship. Right, fellow cultivator?”
Zhang San, “…”
*You’re proud of being broke?*
Zhang Yue’s suspicious gaze flickered between Zhang San and Xue Ying before she finally believed Xue Ying. With a wave, she ordered, “Take this outlaw away!”
Despite her disdain, Zhang Yue wasn’t foolish enough to openly antagonize someone who’d shone in the Martial Arts Tournament. But recalling the Yunmengze incident, her face twisted like spoiled vegetables in a sewer.
*The great Holy Maiden of Tian Yin Pavilion, bested by a mere sword cultivator? Not only that, but she was ambushed at night and nearly eaten by a Golden Crow—a humiliation beyond words!*
After her disgraceful return, she’d been punished with copying sect rules 300 times, and her livestream views had plummeted by 10%. This wasn’t just personal—her earnings had evaporated because of Xue Ying.
*Zhang Yue, Holy Maiden of Tian Yin Pavilion, and Xue Ying, disciple of the Sword Immortal—sworn enemies!*
Reconciliation was impossible. Unless Xue Ying paid her to be friends.
Zhang Yue mentally ran through the rumors about the Tai Xuan Sect and confirmed one thing—they were notoriously poor. Xue Ying’s empty pockets were all but confirmed.
After some internal deliberation, Zhang Yue spoke coolly, “Why are you in Shijie?”
“I’m going to the Demon Realm.”
“The Demon Realm?”
“You can ask Lixiang of Luyeyuan for details.”
Xue Ying wasn’t sure how Tian Yin Pavilion would react to the news, but with plenty of clever minds around, she didn’t mind making full use of them.
Zhang Yue raised an eyebrow, exchanged glances with her subordinates, and nodded. “So that’s why you’re here?”
Xue Ying nodded. “Lixiang said there’s a rift here. I came to investigate. If it’s viable, I’ll head to the Demon Realm soon. Speaking of which, I heard miasma harms humans. Why are they…”
“Gathered here?” Zhang Yue sneered. “Those Asuras spend their days swindling followers out of their money. They chose this spot because the miasma clouds judgment.”
A little miasma was like alcohol—intoxicating. Add the Asuras’ sweet talk, and people would agree in a daze. By the time they sobered up, the Asuras would deliver “dividends,” and some would think, *Why not give it a try?*
Naturally, trying meant dying.
Those who lost everything would come begging for the Holy Maiden’s mercy. Zhang Yue had nearly beaten these fools to death.
*Is my livestream not flashy enough? Can I not play the pipa anymore?!*
But the Asuras could wait—they’d been a headache for years. What mattered now was that the Sword Immortal’s disciple had delivered herself to her doorstep. Zhang Yue’s tone shifted.
“A guest is always welcome! Xuexue, I’m so happy you’re here! Can Xiaoyue be your guide?”
Xue Ying shuddered. “Fellow cultivator, you know what they say—beware of Greeks bearing gifts…”
Zhang Yue simply smiled and snapped her fingers. Her Tian Yin Pavilion disciples formed a battle array, clearly preparing for a war of attrition.
“I’d love that!”
Zhang Yue linked arms with Xue Ying. “Then let’s go on an adventure together!”
This bizarre journey left Xue Ying physically and mentally exhausted. After much persuasion, Zhang Yue finally let her go, mentioning that Tian Yin Pavilion disciples would visit in a few days to relay a message. It was obvious they intended to meddle in the Demon Realm affair.
Xue Ying didn’t mind—she was just a tool. Once this job was done, she’d return home. Lixiang, however, was deeply troubled, sensing Tian Yin Pavilion’s impending interference. Xue Ying felt guilty.
“Master, I’m sorry.”
Lixiang waved it off. “Not your fault. Occasionally, Luyeyuan gets a few female disciples too.”
Xue Ying: *Master, that’s quite the revelation.*
She watched Lixiang leave, then met Cen Wuwang’s gaze with a troubled expression before walking away as if nothing had happened.
While Tian Yin Pavilion was poaching Luyeyuan’s followers, the Asuras who’d escaped reported their failed scheme and came to confess.
In a dilapidated temple, several Asuras gathered in the main hall. A child sat on the altar, swinging his legs. After hearing the report, he grinned widely.
“Xiaoyue is amazing as always.”
The kneeling Asura didn’t dare speak, but a woman with a curved blade at her waist stepped forward. “My King, we’ve lain low for years. Our resources are nearly ready—it’s time to act.”
The child continued smiling sweetly before the woman bowed her head. “This subordinate overstepped.”
Ignoring her, he asked the Asura on the ground, “You said the outsider was the Sword Immortal’s disciple and on good terms with Zhang Yue?”
He cupped his face, lost in fantasy. “She sounds like a good person. Everyone says good people are kind—she’ll help me, right?”
*Help me kill Zhang Yue.*
The Asura woman brightened. “My King, I have a plan, if I may.”
“Speak.”
“We can lure the Sword Immortal’s disciple into a trap, capture her, and use forbidden arts to control her. She’ll become our most loyal hound—against Luyeyuan, against Tian Yin Pavilion.”
“That sounds fun.”
He lowered his hands, his smile pure and innocent.
**
Xue Ying next saw the brat at dusk the following day. She’d sheathed her sword and was heading to Mingjingtai to find Youtan when the kid popped up out of nowhere, tears in his eyes.
“Big sister.”
Xue Ying thought, *You dare show your face again?* Just as she was about to strike, the kid rushed over and hugged her waist. “Sister, help me! Bad people are threatening me!”
She tried to pry him off, but he clung like a limpet. Afraid of hurting him, she sighed. “Talk properly. No crying.”
Only then did the kid look up, eyes wide. “Big sister will help me?”
Her sword hilt slid into her hand. Xue Ying nodded. “Call me ‘auntie,’ and I won’t. ‘Sister’? Maybe.”
While he pondered, she dislodged his grip. By the time he realized, her sword was pointed at him.
“Hugging costs extra.”
At the mention of money, the kid’s eyes filled with shame. He dug out some spirit stones. “Big sister, sorry for tricking you.”
After pocketing two “fifty” stones, the kid tried to hug her again. Xue Ying blocked him with her scabbard. Remembering her “fee,” he reluctantly produced more stones. “Big sister…”
Before he could finish, the stones vanished from his hand. Expecting free rein, he was met with Xue Ying’s outstretched palm.
“One thing at a time. That only covered the last one. You still need to pay for the next.”
Her fingers twitched meaningfully.
Kid, “…”
*Once I conquer Tian Yin Pavilion, I’ll kill this Sword Immortal’s disciple.*
After paying a third time, Xue Ying finally heard his story.
“So, the Asuras planted a bomb on you, and if I don’t go with you, they’ll detonate it?”
Standing alone, he recited his script. “Big sister, I don’t want to die…”
To his shock, Xue Ying turned and strode toward the temple, shouting, “Call the police! Or the local gangsters—anyone!”
“…Big sister.”
Xue Ying, with her strong moral compass, drew a line between herself and the child with Yaoguang, physically keeping her distance while sweet-talking, “Don’t be afraid, the police will be here soon.”
“…The Asura is looking for you.”
Xue Ying refused to believe such nonsense. If she gave in to threats just because she was intimidated, what would that say about the police? “Don’t be fooled by storybooks at such a young age. Evil can never triumph over justice. If you’re in trouble, call the police—that’s the right thing to do. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
When she had no money, she was “big sister,” but once she got paid, she became “auntie.” What a hypocritical disciple of the Sword Immortal!
Fuming, the child tried to leave, but Xue Ying, determined to save a wayward youth, pressed Yaoguang against his neck with a kindly smile. “Be good now, don’t be scared.”
The child: “…”
When Lixiang finally arrived at the scene, the report he received was as follows:
A villain, concerned about the safety of Deer Park, had risked his life to investigate.
Xue Ying told Lixiang, “Master, the Asura clan is too cruel—using a child as bait! Master, please check on the little one.”
Forgot to mention: the current Asura King, former guide, and hostage child was named “Baobao.”
Lixiang’s expression darkened. On the peaceful lands of the Consciousness Realm, such a heinous act was unthinkable. He immediately summoned several senior monks to inspect Baobao for bombs. But when the monks faced Baobao, it was the child who cracked first.
“I am the Asura King! I warn you, if you dare act recklessly, the Asura army will raze Deer Park to the ground!”
Xue Ying sighed like a seasoned elder, shrugging innocently at Lixiang. “I suspect the Asura clan brainwashed him. How else could he say such things?”
An Asura King who could only kick your knees when he jumped? And the mastermind behind the Asura calamity in the Consciousness Realm—a little boy? Impossible.
Lixiang sighed as well. “What a tragedy.”
The monks then thoroughly examined Baobao, finding no bombs but detecting a seal inside him.
“The technique resembles the work of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion.”
Lixiang had been at odds with the Heavenly Sound Pavilion for centuries—knowing your enemy best—yet even he couldn’t decipher the seal in Baobao.
Since it wasn’t a fatal condition, they discussed it openly in front of Baobao. At the mention of the seal, Baobao’s expression flickered. Realizing Lixiang couldn’t break it, he sneered, “Deer Park? You think you can meddle with the Asura clan?”
Xue Ying, oblivious to the threat in Baobao’s words, spoke as an outsider and friendly ambassador between Deer Park and the Heavenly Sound Pavilion:
“I know Zhangyue. Let’s invite her here to take a look at the child—for my sake.”
Lixiang had his own considerations. Instead of hunting for disguised spies or scheming against the Heavenly Sound Pavilion, why not negotiate openly?
Both were contractors—who didn’t know how to please the client?
One vote here, one vote there, and the Asura King would meet the Heavenly Sound Pavilion’s Saintess tomorrow.
“I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!” Baobao couldn’t take it anymore, wailing, “Just don’t make me see Zhangyue!”
“The story begins twenty years ago at the Heavenly Sound Pavilion…”
“Like Deer Park, the Saintess of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion was predetermined. The so-called selection process was just a show for outsiders, making believers think hard work could earn them the title.”
Xue Ying scoffed. “Seriously? Even this has rigging?”
Lixiang avoided the topic, urging Baobao to continue. “Unlike Deer Park, the Saintess was chosen through divination by the previous Saintess. They’d receive divine guidance, telling them when and where the next Saintess would appear.”
“Twenty years ago, a peasant woman gave birth to a child. According to the prophecy, this child would be the next Saintess. But no one could accept it—because the child was a boy, not a girl.”
Xue Ying already guessed the rest. Heartbroken, the Heavenly Sound Pavilion took the boy in but never truly accepted him. Despite his brilliance, his gender remained a barrier. A sect of women couldn’t tolerate a male Saintess.
“Then one day, a baby girl drifted ashore from the Blood Sea.”
Baobao’s tears fell. “Zhangyue was always beloved. She learned quickly, unlike me. No matter how hard I tried, the sisters were always cold. They said men were made of mud, filthy just by existing.”
“If that was all, fine. But at ten, the Blood Sea erupted. I was sent to suppress it, but something went wrong. I fell in, tainted by its corruption. To prevent demonic possession, the sisters sealed me. It saved me, but I stopped growing.”
Baobao wept. “They said the Heavenly Sound Pavilion couldn’t have a Saintess who wouldn’t grow. So they stripped my title and made Zhangyue Saintess. I couldn’t take it, so I ran away.”
The tragic tale left everyone sighing. Lixiang confirmed the Blood Sea incident a decade ago.
“So,” Xue Ying asked, “you allied with the Asura to take revenge on the Heavenly Sound Pavilion?”
“No!” Baobao cried. “I just wanted to prove myself—that even with my flaws, I could still be perfect!”
Xue Ying laughed, clasping her fists. “Senior, you truly are remarkable.”
The title “senior” made Baobao’s eyes redden. Sniffling, he said, “No matter what, I won’t meet Zhangyue.”
He hated Zhangyue, but he hated the Heavenly Sound Pavilion more.
The rest was between Deer Park and the Asura. Xue Ying excused herself. She didn’t seek Youtan, who was lately obsessed with music, often singing loudly. Xue Ying could escape, but Shen Jin, forced to “feed the demon,” suffered. Leaving would mean surrendering to Deer Park, so he endured Youtan’s company.
Youtan had good habits—daily sutra readings, occasional singing. This routine changed Shen Jin’s lifestyle. He started jogging early to avoid Youtan’s chanting, and whenever Youtan mentioned singing, Shen Jin would claim he was going to sleep.
Rumors spread in Deer Park: the Buddha’s disciple had a way with words—just mention singing, and the Demon Lord would say he was off to bed.
After wandering, Xue Ying returned to Cen Wuwang. The master and disciple locked eyes before Cen Wuwang spoke first:
“Did you finish your homework?”
After Xue Ying’s earlier humiliation, Cen Wuwang had monks gather study materials to supervise her. In his words, the Tai Xuan Sect lagged behind the Tai Chu Sect largely because its members neglected mathematics.
Xue Ying thought, *The Tai Chu Sect doesn’t even know the multiplication table—they’re just rich.*
“Not yet.”
She obediently worked on her assignments, though her mind wasn’t in it, especially with Cen Wuwang practicing swordplay nearby. Eventually, she gave up and watched him instead.
His swordsmanship was breathtaking, his demeanor icy. Xue Ying rested her chin on her hand, thinking. In her memory, no swordsman surpassed Cen Wuwang.
Suddenly, she asked, “Master, if I weren’t born with a sword bone—if I were just an ordinary disciple—would you still have taken me in?”
Cen Wuwang sheathed his sword and looked at her. Young, already skilled—given time, she’d achieve greatness.
She was his disciple, his best opponent for life.
“There are no ‘ifs.’” He averted his gaze, his sword hilt dissolving into mist as he came to check her work.
“I was just wondering. Today, I heard something… I never knew the Heavenly Sound Pavilion had such a past.”
Xue Ying eagerly recounted the story, hoping for gossip. Instead, Cen Wuwang asked, “Are you free?”
“I—”
“From the Heavenly Sound Pavilion’s past to self-reflection—seems you have too much time. Starting today, a thousand sword swings. Report to me in your free time—I’ll supervise your studies.”
Back then, she could chat with Wen An, who’d call it great material. With Cen Wuwang, it was just idle nonsense.
Xue Ying gave up arguing and focused on her work. When night fell, she said she was going to sleep. Cen Wuwang frowned.
“Sleep? Then why cultivate immortality?”
Xue Ying: *Can’t I just slack off?*
After much debate, she won her freedom. As she left with Yaoguang, she spotted a short figure at the courtyard gate—the Asura King. After whatever deal he struck with Deer Park, he was now frolicking around. Seeing Xue Ying, he rubbed his hands and dropped the innocent act.
“I only hugged you once. Give back the money for the second time.”
Xue Ying didn’t argue, returning the coins with a scowl. As she turned to leave, Baobao peeked into the side hall.
Familiar—he’d seen him before. Perhaps it was the night’s beauty, but under the lamplight, Cen Wuwang looked stunning—black hair, pale skin, exuding nobility. He stared until Cen Wuwang noticed. Before he could speak, Xue Ying dragged him away and shut the door.
Outside, Baobao swung his legs and asked, “Is he your lover?”
Deer Park was full of bald monks, but that man in the courtyard was dressed as a Taoist.
Xue Ying knew the misunderstanding stemmed from Shen Jin’s earlier taunts about Cen Wuwang’s looks. She couldn’t be bothered to explain.
“He’s my master.”
“Oh~”
The tone was loaded. Xue Ying saw through his thoughts—legal loli or not, she wasn’t interested.
She didn’t want to talk, but Baobao pressed on. “But you two don’t seem close. Did he do something wrong?”
That struck a chord. Leaning against the door, Xue Ying vented: “He’s awful! I’m learning swordsmanship, not exorcism, but he says I slack off in math. When I worry about my sword skills, he says they’re useless.”
She ranted endlessly—Cen Wuwang was unreasonable, cold, and tyrannical.
Baobao nodded, concluding this was the archetypal aloof master. “Then why not send him to the Begonia District?”
Xue Ying: “…Don’t say such scandalous things.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage