Chapter 113: A Sense of Frustration

The big monk was quite confident in his sorcery. How did he manage to turn the market into a "Ghost Market"? It was all thanks to his magic. As long as he cast a spell, any problem could be solved.

Glancing at the sky and then at the sun, which was about to set and no longer shone with much intensity, the big monk sneered. He drew two paper talismans and flicked them into the wind.

"Ghost Summoning Spell."

The two paper talismans expanded in the wind, and in a moment, they transformed into two underworld messengers.

Seeing the big monk, the messengers immediately bowed. "Underworld deputy messengers Zhang San and Wang Er pay respects to the Buddhist elder."

"Hmm." The big monk nodded, adopting the air of an enlightened master. "May I ask what brings you two envoys here?"

"Break!"

Before the big monk could continue his charade, Shen Shi struck. A surge of pure, vigorous spiritual energy shot forward, dispersing the yin energy on the talismans. They instantly reverted back into two mere paper cutouts drawn with ink.

"You..." The big monk was furious. He had intended to use the authority of ghosts and gods to intimidate them; if the ghost messengers were respectful to him, the common people would naturally follow suit. But the act had been ruined by Shen Shi just as the curtain rose, and he was naturally incensed.

However, Shen Shi simply said, "You can summon ghosts, and I can send them away. We are both practitioners; what is wrong with that?"

Wrong! Of course it was wrong. If he could bring in the underworld messengers and use their mouths to proclaim the high regard in which the Yama King or the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva held him, he would be invincible. But this man had broken his spell and prevented his paper cutouts from speaking.

Could it be that he knew what I was planning?

"No! It is impossible for him to know. Ghost Summoning Spell!" The big monk resolved to pressure them with the power of ghosts and gods, shielding the paper cutouts to prevent Shen Shi from breaking the spell again. After all, if the spirits spoke, he would remain in an unassailable position. His dozen years of experience in the Ghost Market were not for nothing.

While the big monk was busy shielding the paper cutouts, Shen Shi suddenly struck. He grabbed the two monks by their shoulders and said, "Tell me, am I right? You two ghost messengers?"

"What? They are ghost messengers? What is going on here?"

Many people were left bewildered, astonished by the turn of events.

What else could be going on? Ghost sorcery belongs to the realm of yin. If one could summon ghost messengers in broad daylight, he wouldn't just be a monk from Lanruo Temple.

The big monk managing to conjure a ghostly appearance was already impressive enough. Wanting the paper cutouts to speak in the daytime was impossible; he had to rely on ventriloquism.

This was a case of lacking true cultivation and making up for it with tricks. But how could he have known that Shen Shi possessed eyes that could see through the illusion of spirits and gods? He had been caught red-handed.

The big monk’s face changed drastically. When a common con artist is caught, they are usually filled with shame and anger. But he was the abbot of Lanruo Temple. Did he know sorcery? A little. It was just that he hadn't cultivated enough to produce yang from yin, making his magic ineffective in the daytime. Yet, he was indeed a practitioner.

However, now that Shen Shi had exposed him, he was nothing more than a fraud—a pure, unadulterated fraud.

The problem was, he didn't think he was!

"You're courting death!"

Flustered and enraged, unwilling to be labeled a "fraud," the big monk struck out. His hands, hard as steel and iron, smashed directly toward Shen Shi.

"Wait! Abbot... I think we should just let this matter rest."

At this moment, Magistrate Wang suddenly spoke up to persuade him. As a government official, he did not want to see a conflict between Buddhism and Taoism in his jurisdiction, especially if the other party could truly command ghosts and gods.

What? The big monk's ghost messengers were fake? Who could prove it? What if they were real?

"Is he very powerful?" The big monk hesitated for a moment.

"Powerful? He is the one who killed the thousand-man commander of the Liao army," Magistrate Wang replied.

"What?" A bitter taste filled the big monk's heart.

He knew Shen Shi was strong, but he had no idea he was *this* strong.

That night, the Liao thousand-man commander had been a true master. The North believed in Buddhism, while the South favored Taoism. As the abbot of Lanruo Temple, he had played a part in the Liao invasion, so he naturally knew something about the Liao army.

He could handle an ordinary thousand-man commander, but he truly could not defeat a commander of the Palace Guard division without using magic. And even with magic, he would still lose, because the Palace Guard division possessed a "military aura" that severely suppressed yin-based sorcery.

Under such a military aura, almost no one could cast spells. Having magic was effectively the same as having none.

Yet, a thousand-man commander he could not defeat had been slain by the young scholar before him.

"Damn it! Why didn't anyone tell me?"

At this moment, upon realizing the true extent of Shen Shi's strength, he understood that the man had been holding back. Otherwise, he wouldn't just be spitting out a tooth—he would have been beaten to death on the spot.

But knowing this now, what was he to do? Should he throw the punch or not?

If he didn't, he had already raised his fist. If he did, he would likely lose. If the other party were even more ruthless, he might end up dead.

Cold sweat beaded on the big monk's forehead. He had never faced such a difficult choice. Standing there, unable to decide whether to strike or retreat, he was internally weeping.

However, the big monk was a tough man at heart. He had originally been a notorious bandit, fleeing into Lanruo Temple to escape government capture. Although he had spent twenty years in the temple and had been influenced by the previous abbot to live a life of self-cultivation for a few years, his true nature remained.

Being in this predicament actually sparked his competitive spirit. The big monk roared:

"I don't believe that someone of his age could have single-handedly killed a thousand-man commander of the Liao Palace Guard!"

"Divine Tree, strike!"

He performed a incantation, yin energy manifesting on his hands. He exerted every ounce of his strength, desperate to land this blow and slam Shen Shi into the ground. He had had enough of the life of a fugitive!

The big monk's martial arts style was fierce and brute-force. His fists and arms were as hard as iron; even without a weapon, he was his own most powerful weapon.

"Hah!"

As he charged, the veins all over his body bulged violently, and his skin turned a dark, iron-blue. His entire frame expanded, transforming him into a giant nearly two meters tall.

"He's desperate now."

Shen Shi saw it clearly. The big monk's blood and energy were boiling, surging from his five internal organs—liver, heart, spleen, lungs, and kidneys—to his skin.

The organs were the root of life, storing essence, energy, and spirit. This was undoubtedly a life-or-death move. Even if Shen Shi didn't retaliate, the monk would suffer severe internal damage and remain weak for months afterward.

The big monk let out a wild roar and threw his punch.

Having tapped into the potential of his five organs, his speed had increased significantly, and the power of this punch was like a collapsing Mount Tai—an incredible force.

Wang Chao and Ma Han turned pale. As martial artists, they understood the terror of the big monk in this state. If it were them, they wouldn't even be able to block three such blows.

When did the world become filled with so many masters? Did we come down from the mountain too early?

A sense of defeat couldn't help but rise in the hearts of Wang Chao and Ma Han.