Chapter 159: Behind the Suspicion

Deep beneath the underground palace, in its lowest depths.

Resting atop a simple earthen pedestal was a tiny Buddha finger bone, so plain and unadorned that no one would have guessed it was the sacred relic.

Changmei knelt before the Buddha finger bone and prayed, “O Buddha, take away all the suffering of this life.” Suddenly, the relic emitted a dazzling radiance, filling the underground palace with a warm, flowing energy, and the air shimmered with fleeting lights.

The hidden Buddha statues around them seemed to sing in harmony.

Xie Xiaoyu looked at me, her eyes free of pain.

“I’ll wait for you to come back for me,” I said as I embraced her, gently kissing her forehead.

At last, after lingering in this world for a hundred years, Xie Xiaoyu slowly rose into the air like the sands of the Ganges.

The Buddha once said, “How can one see the entire world in a single grain of sand?”

I reached out, touching the last traces of her, and before I knew it, tears streamed from the corners of my eyes.

I fell to my knees before the Buddha relic, my tears falling uncontrollably, until I could no longer hold back my sobs. Soon, I was wailing in sorrow.

Something that had always been a part of my life had suddenly vanished, leaving a gaping void in my heart.

The madman of Baishui Village, unable to bear this hollow feeling, had hidden Huang’s body in a refrigerator. Like him, I was suddenly struck by this unbearable emptiness.

Changmei helped me up. “Let’s go. Once we turn and leave, a new world awaits. Tomorrow is another day. Before we step out, I need you to help me stage a little performance.” He then whispered instructions into my ear.

Turns out, this entire ordeal had been a setup—had Changmei not told me, I would never have known what was truly happening.

As we ascended from the depths of the underground palace, the atmosphere above had shifted. Yun Chaohai had taken notice of Hua Chongyang’s silver flask, claiming it was a stolen artifact from years past.

Hua Chongyang sneered, “Get lost. This flask is a treasure of my Hua family. This lord would never stoop to stealing from an underground palace.”

Yun Chaohai rested his hand on his waist. “Hand it over, and I’ll let this slide. Otherwise, I don’t care if you’re a lord or an emperor—I won’t hold back.”

Hua Chongyang was livid. “How dare a lowly commoner speak to me like this?”

Master Donggua interjected, “That item does indeed belong to the Hua family, not this temple.” Yun Chaohai finally relaxed. The strange figure in the yellow mandarin jacket didn’t seem entirely human—more like a monster. If a fight broke out, he wasn’t sure his gun would be of any use.

Hua Chongyang scoffed, “If not for the master’s sake, this lord would not have been so lenient.”

“Is it done?” Master Donggua asked.

Changmei nodded.

Little Rascal, who had seen Xie Xiaoyu enter with me but not exit, barked angrily, glaring at me as if ready to bite.

Uncle Jianguo held him tightly. “What do you know, little thing?”

“Since that’s settled, let’s begin,” Master Donggua declared.

Xue You’niang rushed forward and embraced him, pleading with Changmei, “You can’t punish him. It will only add to the sins of bloodshed.”

Master Donggua smiled. “No, it’s just that after all these years, the truth from thirty years ago must finally surface. I won’t die, You’niang. You’re a good child. This isn’t about punishment—there’s something else at play.”

Xue You’niang released him but remained vigilant, standing protectively beside Master Donggua. Gone was any trace of her former worldly demeanor.

The three exchanged glances, an odd tension hanging in the air.

Hua Chongyang’s browless face betrayed hidden emotions, his breathing growing ragged.

Changmei nodded. “It’s time. Officer Yun, it’s been years. How have you been? Shouldn’t you return that book you’ve been hiding to this temple?”

Yun Chaohai looked bewildered. “What are you talking about? What book?”

Uncle Jianguo, still holding Little Rascal, stepped aside. “Xiao Qi, the real show is just beginning. The thief is the cop, the cop is the thief—this story is only now unfolding.”

Following Changmei’s words, I glanced at Yun Chaohai. Though his expression remained confused, his hand had subtly returned to his holster, and a flicker of cunning and unease flashed in his eyes.

Changmei smiled. “Perhaps you don’t realize it, but everything you’ve seen in Famen Temple has been an act. The severed heads, the burned corpses—all illusions. The tale of the four grave robbers’ descendants was fabricated. Hua Chongyang’s appearance, Xue You’niang’s involvement—it was all to uncover why, decades ago, the grave robbers entered the underground palace only to die one by one, while the artifacts vanished without a trace. Otherwise, why would no one in the entire temple have seen the killer?”

I realized then that I, too, had been kept in the dark. Whether it was Xue You’niang, Master Donggua, or Hua Chongyang’s insistence on coming to Famen Temple—it was all for this purpose.

“So, what exactly was lost back then?” Uncle Jianguo asked, piecing together the story.

And the protagonist of this tale was none other than the soon-to-retire veteran officer, Yun Chaohai.

“The first woodblock-printed copy of the *Diamond Sutra* from the Tang Dynasty—the very one translated by Xuanzang himself, hidden in the underground palace. To outsiders, it might seem worthless, but to Buddhists, it was a priceless treasure,” Changmei explained.

Xuanzang, the famed Tang Dynasty monk who journeyed to India to retrieve scriptures, later translated countless Buddhist texts. His adventures inspired many tales, most famously the story of his four disciples—Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, and the White Dragon Horse—on their quest for scriptures.

Of course, Xuanzang was also known as Tang Sanzang, a household name among Chinese worldwide. Legend even had it that his flesh could grant immortality, leading to a childhood scam where kids bought “Tang Sanzang meat” snacks, only to realize they didn’t live forever.

Yun Chaohai sighed. “Master, you’re right. That lost *Diamond Sutra*—we searched high and low, but the world is vast, and a book is small. It vanished without a trace. It’s been a regret of mine all these years.”

“And yet, even now, you refuse to admit it? When you drove the last grave robber to his death, you took the sutra and pushed him off a building. But justice prevails—his ghost lingered, revealing the truth to my senior brother. Shall I summon him?” Changmei said sternly.

Yun Chaohai swallowed hard. “Master, I don’t understand. Ghosts and gods are mere superstition. How can you believe such nonsense?”

Sweat trickled down his forehead. The handsome young officer who had stood a meter behind him hesitated, taking a step back.

Master Donggua’s expression twisted, his body convulsing. “Yun Chaohai, why did you push me? Why were you so cruel?”

Yun Chaohai drew his gun. “Ghost! There’s a ghost!”

The young officer tackled him, knocking the weapon away.

Uncle Jianguo swiftly retrieved the gun. “No ghost here. At most, it’s a possession. Officer, you should listen to the rest of this story. It’s rare to hear something so twisted and moving—a ghost crying for justice, a tale worthy of Judge Bao’s *Case of the Black Basin*.”

Changmei waved his hand. “Hua Chongyang’s role was to procure some corpses. We retrieved the deceased from nearby villages. Any offenses committed will be apologized for in due time.”

Hua Chongyang grinned. “This lord works discreetly. A few bodies, some slight adjustments—no one could trace them. Officer Yun, have you been sleeping well?”

Uncle Jianguo chuckled. “I thought you were stealing dogs at night. Turns out you were grave-robbing.”

Hua Chongyang scoffed. “Fool. I won’t waste my breath on you.”

Yun Chaohai suddenly snapped to his senses. “So—so it *was* you! Xiao Liu, why are you holding me down? He’s the one stealing corpses, framing an innocent man with ghosts and tricks! I don’t know anything about any *Diamond Sutra*—it’s all lies!”

“Master, I don’t know who’s responsible,” the young officer said, restraining Yun Chaohai.

Yun Chaohai struggled in vain. “You ungrateful brat! After everything I taught you!”

“Punish evil, uphold justice,” the young officer replied.

Yun Chaohai sighed deeply. “Idiot.”

Master Donggua lunged forward, gripping Yun Chaohai’s throat. “Give me back my life!” Yun Chaohai laughed. “Master, drop the act. It’s just ventriloquism—trying to scare me with ghosts?”

Master Donggua released him. “Only when faced with the coffin will you relent. Only when you see the Yellow River will you give up. I used ventriloquism to test whether you still had any fear of the divine.”

“Ha! Then take me to see the Yellow River—only then will I accept my fate,” Yun Chaohai retorted.

Xue You’niang spoke up. “Yuantong confessed—you were the one who contacted him to sell the *Diamond Sutra*. Overseas buyers were arrested by the police. Soon enough, the sutra you hid will be found.”

Yun Chaohai collapsed. “Fine. It was me. It was all me.” He broke free and seized Xue You’niang, strangling her. “You vile woman! You seduced Shentong and ruined everything!”

Jiese stepped in, kicking Yun Chaohai away. “Lay down your blade, and you shall become a Buddha.”

Yun Chaohai crashed onto the stone floor, blood trickling from his lips. “Is there still hope? Any hope at all? Ha… ha… ha…”

With a final, desperate effort, he bit off his tongue and smashed his head against the bricks. His decades of deception had finally come to light—all for a moment of greed.

And so it was.

Beneath Yun Chaohai’s rice jar, the woodblock-printed *Diamond Sutra* was discovered, its pages partially eaten by insects and now incomplete. The severed limbs and heads taken by the police were returned by Hua Chongyang.

The grand “Famen Temple Winter Case” was revealed to be a farce, and the long-lost artifact was recovered. Everyone was satisfied. Famen Temple’s official Weibo announced, *”My Date with the Zombie Lord* filming has concluded. Thank you for your support. The Buddha saves all—sow good seeds, reap good fruit.”

The zombified Yuantong, bitten by a silver-armored corpse, became an unsolved mystery when the trail went cold.

Master Donggua, unable to absolve himself of his sins from forty years prior, accepted a hundred strikes of the rod in a dilapidated hut, resigning as abbot. With approval from the Religious Affairs Bureau, Changmei took his place. As for Changmei’s legendary “Buddha’s Palm,” I never saw it—likely just Jiese’s tall tale.

Jiese, having broken the precepts against lust, alcohol, and killing (slaying the mountain boar demon), was struck ten times and expelled from the monastery.

Breaking the wooden rod would take some effort.

Xue You’niang, after kowtowing in reverence, longed to see Master Donggua again but was repeatedly refused. He believed his sins were too great, unworthy of facing her and her mother. With her worldly trials behind her, Xue You’niang sought to become a nun, but the temple did not accept women. Changmei allowed her to stay a few more days until her heart settled before departing—life had to go on, after all.

Xue You’niang agreed. Uncle Jianguo, bored out of his mind, ended up playing poker with Hua Chongyang and Mo Bai. The incident had softened his view of Hua Chongyang.

As for me, I received an item from Xie Lingyu, entrusted to me by Master Donggua—a box and a tear-stained letter written in blood.