The Old Daoist finished his counsel to Tianlang, who was already brimming with tears. The Old Daoist Master looked at his two disciples before him, a trace of relief subtly showing on his face.

"You two remember this well: Tianya is overly eager for quick success; he will surely become a disaster in the future. And when you deal with him, you must act only when he still has a chance to turn back. Whatever you do, don't let outsiders make sport of what happens inside our Daoist temple," the Old Daoist said. A slight smile touched his lips after he looked at Tianlang once more, but then his face suddenly twitched. Immediately, his eyes closed tightly, the slight tremor of breath vanished from his mouth, and his nostrils froze in that rigid posture.

"Master, Master!" the younger Daoist cried out, wailing and shouting. After crying for a while, his brow furrowed fiercely, and he spoke with hardened resolve: "Master, rest assured, I will definitely kill that bastard for you, and then teach him what chaos is!" As he spoke, the young Daoist stood up and turned to rush outside.

Tianlang saw this and immediately stopped the young Daoist: "Shunzi, where are you going? This is not the time for impulse. We must heed Master’s words and first attend the Dharma Assembly. We can discuss this later."

"So, Master's affair is just going to be shelved like this?" Shunzi ground his teeth together, the sound grating sharply. He clenched his left fist so tightly that the veins stood out like raised cords on his hand.

Zhou Huan watched from the side; his heart felt uneasy. Seeing the Old Daoist dead, though he knew how things should proceed, he felt powerless now. But Zhou Huan was also fiercely righteous, and hearing such a thing always left a knot of discomfort in his stomach.

"Master, should we help them? Look how tragic this is!" Shi Bingyuan also asked Zhou Huan. In truth, he also wanted to vent some anger for the Old Daoist. Though it was their own affair, it still felt wrong for an outsider to meddle in such a grave matter.

Zhou Huan's mind kept circling back, trying to recall how exactly he had met Tianlang in the first place. But no matter how hard he thought, he couldn't grasp it; it didn't seem like they had met here. So much new, strange information had surfaced in this short time—it was truly bizarre. Zhou Huan’s mind was a mess, but he couldn't afford to dwell on these things. So, he turned, sighed deeply, and said, "Let's sleep. Their business—let's not interfere for now!"

Tianlang and Shunzi wept ceaselessly, crying for nearly half the night. Finally, they managed to gently place the Old Daoist on a pile of hay, wrapping the body in two layers of the dry grass. Then, the two Daoists sat cross-legged and began chanting the Daoist rites for the departed.

At that moment, outside the dilapidated temple, a violent thunderstorm raged, whipping up savage winds, punctuated by flashes of lightning that shone with blinding light, casting dancing shadows of the tree branches.

"Master, the moon was quite bright just a moment ago. How come it started raining so suddenly?" Dongzi asked Zhou Huan.

Tianxiong whispered quietly from the side, "You don't understand. This is someone who achieved the Dao. When such a person dies unjustly, Heaven feels wronged, and thus it thunders and rains. It means the Celestial Lord is also enraged!"

"Oh, then I bet Heaven is about to deal with such a treacherous person, who could cause the death of his own master who taught him! Damn it, I also want to teach such a person a lesson." Dongzi spoke frankly, and his voice carried loudly. His outburst did not help matters; it only stoked the already burning rage within young Shunzi.

After the two Daoists finished chanting the liberation mantra, they turned to carry the Old Daoist out of the temple. It was precisely at this moment that young Shunzi suddenly erupted in fury. He snatched up a thick wooden club from who knows where, standing perfectly rigid, and said to Tianlang, "Senior Brother, you wait here. We will bury Master’s body tomorrow. I’m going out right now to find that prodigal Tianya; see if I don't carve him up!"

For a Daoist to utter such words showed that the young man was utterly driven mad by grief and rage. Tianlang moved to stop him again: "Don't go. Let's bury Master’s body tonight."

Hearing this, Zhou Huan relied on his accumulated memory and stood up. "Two young masters, listen to me for a moment. Although he is a man of the cloth, there is one thing: when does one bury the dead in the middle of the night? Burial is always done during the day, in the morning hours. If you bury the body so late, aren't you afraid the grave site will be ruined by the weather, and the body won't rest cleanly?"

This knowledge Zhou Huan possessed came entirely from his past accumulation. Right now, he definitely lacked the capability to handle the body before them, as Zhou Huan realized his powers were no longer the easy, effortless feeling they once were.

"Bingyuan, let's help arrange the clothing for their Master—no, for that Old Daoist. Didn't we bring some things with us? Let's give them whatever they need," Zhou Huan said, rising slowly himself and walking towards the Old Daoist’s side. He bent down to look at the Old Daoist’s face. The features seemed to have shifted; his face looked slightly melancholy, then suddenly, it tightened with tension.

"Master, Master, what's wrong? Are you manifesting?" Shunzi also noticed the subtle changes on his master's face, and a flicker of hope sparked in his heart at that moment.

Young Shunzi again seized the wooden club lying at his feet, ready to rush out and argue with Tianya.

"CRACK!" A massive clap of thunder shook the air, and the temple door was violently blown open by the wind. A figure stood framed in the doorway, carrying a wineskin that emitted a pungent, overpowering smell of alcohol.

Those inside now looked at Shunzi. Shunzi, as if driven mad, rushed the few steps to the doorway with the club raised, intending to smash down. The blow landed squarely on the newcomer’s shoulder. The club snapped with a sound, and a scream ripped from Shunzi: "Ah!" Looking at Shunzi’s hand, it was covered in blood; the web between his thumb and forefinger had been torn open by the sheer force of his own swing.

What surprised Zhou Huan, however, was that the man standing at the door showed no reaction at all. He only heard the newcomer curse grumblingly, "Bastard! Who dared to strike me?" The man raised the wine-kettle to his lips and drank deeply, then charged into the room. With one hand, he grabbed Shunzi; with the other, he delivered a swift kick. Shunzi flew sideways, slamming brutally against one of the temple pillars, spitting out a mouthful of blood before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

Shi Bingyuan stepped forward and checked the man's nostrils—no breath. "How dare you enter and immediately kill someone?" he roared.

"Are you in charge of who I kill?" the newcomer retorted, sounding surprisingly self-righteous.

Tianlang slowly rose to his feet now. "Tianya, Master is dead. Let’s put everything else aside for now and let the dead rest in peace. Can you, out of respect for the years Master taught you, remain quiet tonight? We can settle things after we bury the body in the morning?"

"Aiyo, Eldest Senior Brother!" The man who entered was indeed Tianya, the disloyal disciple they had just been speaking of, the one who killed his own master.

Tianya swayed his body, laughing with perverse pride. "The old fellow is finally gone! Aiyo, I am truly heartbroken. Speaking of which, I really should help him arrange his garments." Saying this, Tianya lunged toward the Old Daoist's corpse. On the surface, he seemed to be tidying the Old Daoist's clothes, but secretly, his hands frantically rummaged through the Old Daoist's pockets. He was actually looking for the invitation to the Dharma Assembly, believing he could successfully challenge it and return to his old Daoist temple to live in comfort and power.

What he hadn't expected was that the Old Daoist’s body held nothing—not even a few scattered silver coins. In desperation, the errant disciple rushed to Shunzi, whom he had just struck dead, and frantically searched him, but again found nothing. Finally, he turned his vicious gaze upon Tianlang, who was still sitting cross-legged, chanting the mantra. The atmosphere in the dilapidated temple grew extremely heavy, thick with palpable killing intent filling the entire room.

Tianya slowly approached Tianlang, circling him two or three times silently. Tianlang showed absolutely no reaction, maintaining the same steady pace and posture while reciting the mantra. Tianya then lightly patted Tianlang’s shoulder. "Senior Brother, did the old fellow leave any final instructions before he passed? Or perhaps anything for me to keep? Money would be fine too!"