As the plane touched down, many people burst into tears, recalling everything that had happened in the air; virtually everyone was still deeply shaken.

Quite a few passengers decided to stay a night in Wuhan and catch a later flight to Kunming; after all, human lives are certainly worth more than airfare.

The three of us, however, didn't mind. Once we landed at Wuhan Airport, we headed straight for the smoking lounge to grab a cigarette, preparing to re-board immediately when the next flight was ready.

We couldn't afford to waste any time.

While in the smoking lounge, I noticed that Number 2 looked exceptionally pale, as if he had just finished running a ten-kilometer marathon.

So, I asked the question I probably shouldn't have: "Number 2, was it really you who used that incantation to disperse the ball lightning just now?"

Number 2 took a drag from his cigarette, gave me a sidelong glance, and asked, "What else? Those bolts were clearly aimed at the aircraft. If it weren't for the protective power of our ancestral Buddhist teachings this time, we’d all be charcoal briquettes right now."

I grunted an acknowledgment and said, "Then why would those lightning bolts attack us? There must be a reason."

Number 2 chuckled and replied, "A reason? Well, with so many planes crashing every year, do you think every single one has a neat reason? Amitabha."

I only half-understood what he was saying, but seeing how weak he looked, I decided not to press the matter any further.

Soon, we were called back to board.

However, boarding this time, we noticed the plane was almost half empty, vast stretches of seats vacant.

We paid it no mind and returned to our original seats.

Perhaps due to the previous scare, we seemed to receive special treatment; not only were we served local delicacies like reganmian (hot dry noodles) and oatmeal porridge, but even the chicken leg meal set, usually costing dozens of yuan, was given to us free of charge.

We were hungry enough, so we devoured everything in sight.

Then, a flight attendant told us we could pick any empty seat and lie down to sleep, which absolutely thrilled us.

One sleep later, we had arrived in Chengdu.

The air in our hometown was still wonderfully warm and humid; the dry cold of winter was almost entirely absent here.

But we only stayed in Chengdu for half an hour before taking off again, finally reaching Kunming.

We arrived in Kunming at nine in the morning, and as soon as we stepped off the plane, a wave of heat hit us—the temperature was a staggering 28 degrees Celsius.

Although we had mentally prepared for it, the sudden transition from winter to summer was still quite jarring.

After leaving the airport and walking a short distance, we were so hot our heads felt like they were smoking, forcing us to shed our heavy outer layers, yet we were still uncomfortably hot.

Eventually, we had to find a small grove of trees to strip off our long johns and wool trousers before we could finally start to feel better.

Kunming’s weather is famously excellent, with clear, cloudless skies most of the time.

Watching the roadside flowers, blooms usually reserved for summer and autumn, was truly delightful to the eye.

While the desolate chill of Beijing had its own distinct charm, it simply couldn't compare to this world bursting with vibrant greenery and blossoms.

From Kunming to Yuanmou, we had to take a long-distance bus. Having spent the previous night in constant fear, our spirits were not high.

So, Number 2, as the team leader, made an exception and allowed us to book a hotel in Kunming to rest for two full days and a night.

I was quite touched at first, but later, I accidentally overheard him making a phone call in the restroom. It turned out the higher-ups had ordered us to delay for an extra day because the target seemed to be showing signs of movement, and they wanted us to proceed only after they had clarified the situation.

Regardless of the reason, I still got a full day of unexpected free time, so I was quite pleased.

Kunming is most famous for its roasted er pian (rice cake slices), grilled tofu, and flower cakes; we tried every single one that day, with Number 2 generously footing the bill for us.

He even took us around to visit the Stone Forest and the National Cultural Village.

It was the first time we’d seen Number 2 be so lavish, but at the end, he announced, "I’ve logged all these expenses. When the bonuses are paid out, I’ll be deducting this from your shares."

Instantly, we were annoyed, but we managed to plaster on smiles that looked perfectly content.

The bus ride to Yuanmou was scheduled for that night, and we heard the mountain roads were treacherous.

However, thanks to Number 2, this 'divine stick,' we felt completely secure and slept soundly the entire journey.

As bad luck would have it, halfway there, we hit a severe rainstorm.

And the stretch of road where the torrential rain fell was the most perilous and dangerous section.

Although the driver didn't wake us up, the serpentine mountain curves, combined with the booming thunder outside, kept everyone on the bus too nervous to sleep.

Even though the coach was new, it couldn't speed up under such conditions, moving at almost a snail's pace.

Fortunately, we weren't alone; not far ahead, another long-distance bus from the same station was 'scouting the path' for us.

The two buses crept forward one after the other in the downpour, with sheer cliffs rising up beside them—looking like two solitary, helpless fireflies wandering in the dark.

In reality, drivers on dangerous roads with terrible weather are usually long accustomed to it, so even in this harsh driving environment, we weren't overly worried; at worst, we'd just arrive in Yuanmou a little late.

But about ten minutes after the bus moved forward, Number 2 suddenly stood up from his seat, walked to the driver’s cabin, and said, "Driver, pull over here. Our temple is built on the mountain directly opposite; this is the closest point for me to disembark."

The driver glanced dismissively at the opposite ridge and said, "Stop fooling around. It’s pouring rain outside; I have to be responsible for your safety. Don't think just because you shaved your head you’re a monk. Even if you were a monk, there's no temple on that mountain. I know this route too well."

Number 2 paused, then said, "Since you put it that way, I’ll be direct: if these two buses proceed any further, they will both plunge off the cliff below. I didn't intend to interfere, but seeing as you seem responsible toward your passengers, it doesn't matter if I reveal a celestial secret. Just pull the vehicles over a kilometer ahead into that mountain hollow, and you will avoid falling off the cliff, and also escape the mudslide coming next."

After he spoke, the entire cabin fell silent.

I expected the driver to start shouting that Number 2 was insane, but to my surprise, he remained utterly quiet.

Furthermore, not a single person on the bus seemed inclined to argue or express anger.

After five seconds, the driver said to Number 2, "Thank you, Master. I will do as you say. Please return to your seat now."

From the tone of the driver’s voice, Number 2 knew he was genuinely believed, so he murmured an "Amitabha" and returned to his seat.

I noticed his face was ashen, just like on the plane, suggesting he had expended a massive amount of energy.

This must be the cost of foresight—although usually, foresight demands payment in the form of shortened lifespan or widespread sores—it seemed for now he was merely exhausted.

Number 2 remained silent, and we said nothing more.

By then, the driver was using the intercom to explain the situation to the bus ahead.

The bus in front replied, agreeing with Number 2’s suggestion.

As the bus continued forward, I tried to puzzle out the mindset of the driver and the other passengers.

Ordinarily, if someone on a bus said anything inauspicious, like predicting a crash or someone dying, the driver would severely berate them.

Saying the entire bus would tumble down the mountain was a major taboo on long-distance trips.

But the driver neither got angry nor offered any rebuttal.

This suggested two things: first, that the driver and passengers were likely quite superstitious, leaning toward believing something might happen rather than dismissing it entirely.

Second, normally, passengers are scolded when they predict accidents on clear days or in places where accidents seem impossible. Under the current weather conditions, which inherently invite accidents, Number 2's words were not entirely groundless.

I figured the drivers and passengers probably still harbored doubts about Number 2's words, but stopping the bus incurred no tangible loss.

If they stopped and nothing happened, the worst outcome was a delay. They could always curse Number 2 later; even a physical confrontation wouldn't be entirely unwarranted then.

However, the miraculous thing happened almost immediately: the bus traveled a little over a kilometer and there appeared a huge mountain hollow. With an overhang of rock above it, it offered excellent shelter; parked underneath, the vehicles wouldn't even get wet.

Crucially, the section of road here was much wider than elsewhere, large enough for people to walk around, and even if other vehicles passed, there would be no trouble with maneuvering for space.

This spot could comfortably fit both long-distance coaches, as if it had been pre-designed for this exact purpose.

Seeing this place, the driver unhesitatingly steered the bus in and stopped.

Since everyone had heard Number 2’s warning, no one objected to stopping.

In fact, some of the people who got off the bus in front actually complained about why they had to stop.

The driver then gathered everyone together, explained the reason, and the complaining ceased.

However, a few people couldn't help but cast glances at Number 2, speculating about his true identity.

To avoid the crowd's gaze, the three of us found a spot against the wall to smoke.

Assessing the surrounding terrain, I said to Number 2 again, "This really is a great spot, perfect for sheltering from the rain and breathing fresh air. How did you know a place like this existed?"

Number 2 smiled and replied, "Amitabha, this was merely a small matter. However, saving so many lives today has greatly depleted my vital energy."

After that, we chatted aimlessly about various things.

Suddenly, that fellow Number 12 piped up, "Why don't we just sleep on the floor here tonight? I think this place is quite nice."

Just as I was about to tell him to sleep there if he wanted to freeze to death, a commotion broke out among the people nearby.

I overheard a few people speaking with thick Kunming accents: "Young man, don't touch that statue. That's the mountain god's statue; disturbing it will bring disaster."

Then another male voice chimed in, "You people are too superstitious. What's so sacred about this clay doll? I'm just going to touch it for a second!"