Chapter 2: Do you want a wife? (Please collect and vote)

Chapter 2: Do You Want a Wife? (Please collect and vote~)

“You should ask for my Dharma name, not my surname. Did you hit your head and become stupid?”

It was this Old Daoist in Crane Cloak again. Ouyang Rong found his words quite venomous.

Ouyang Rong ignored the Old Daoist, nodded, “Mm-hm, then may I ask for the High Monk’s Dharma name?”

Monk Kugao lowered his gaze, “Bu Zhi.”

“Master Bu Zhi, it’s an honor to finally meet you.”

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak scoffed, “He said ‘I don’t know’. Are you trying to make this poor Daoist laugh, young man?”

Ouyang Rong glanced at him, “What kind of little biscuit are you?”

The Old Daoist, however, asked a strange question: “Biscuit? What is that? Is it measured in pieces?”

Ouyang Rong fell silent, not engaging.

He got up from the ground, left the central Lotus Pedestal, and walked into the darkness where the Old Daoist in Crane Cloak and the other two were, to shelter from the rain.

He looked down and saw that his white Lingshan robe was mostly soaked. Ouyang Rong remembered seeing this style of Hanfu in some book.

A round collar, large sleeves, with a horizontal hem at the bottom forming a skirt, and pleats at the waist. This old style of upper and lower garments was the formal attire for scholars in ancient times, and it seemed only scholars and officials could wear it.

He fumbled with how to wear it, finally took it off and threw it aside. Fortunately, there was a moon-white inner garment underneath, but Ouyang Rong couldn't be happy at all.

The feeling of wearing this unfamiliar outfit was 'heavy', and the friction against his skin was also very rough, like wearing a coarse rag from the balcony. It was nowhere near as soft and comfortable as his fleece-lined thermal underwear and down jacket.

But what was strange was that although this replacement scholar's robe was thin, he had been toiling for so long in the moonlight at dawn, and was even wet, yet he didn't feel particularly cold.

“Even the season has changed…”

Ouyang Rong mumbled, then shivered twice, not from the cold, but because this whole set of encounters and trends felt incredibly familiar to him, as familiar as returning home.

In the past, Ouyang Rong would usually just scroll past this kind of opening sequence without even lifting an eyelid. The only thing that would make him slightly care in the first two chapters was whether the male lead was half as handsome as him.

Ouyang Rong, like the Old Daoist in Crane Cloak and the other two, found a dry spot in the darkness, sat down cross-legged, and then took off the shoes on his right foot.

He had wanted to do this for a long time. His right foot's tabi ... or rather, sock, had a hole in it. Since he started climbing the rope, his big toe had been poking out, and he couldn't pull it back in... it was enough to drive someone with OCD crazy.

After reversing the foot covering, he put his shoes back on.

He stared at the curtain of rain falling in the center of the Underground Palace.

He rubbed his right cheek hard.

It seemed now that if this was truly reincarnation, then he had randomly landed in a... high-martial, ancient world? This Underground Palace reincarnation point seemed safe for now, but outside, there were some incomprehensible mythical powers, and it seemed some terrifying force was gaining the upper hand, forcing people into this 'Jingtu'.

As for whether it was soul transmigration or body transmigration... his face was still the original face, so it looked like body transmigration, but not necessarily. What if it was the same person in a parallel dimension, just with different circumstances, that was also possible.

So now there was only one question left—his identity in this world.

Ouyang Rong raised his hand and touched the gauze on his forehead. The throbbing pain and the wet, sticky feeling when he pressed his fingertip indicated that the wound was about an inch and seven fen above his right eyebrow bone, roughly two fingers wide and long.

He looked at the stone Lotus Pedestal in the center of the Underground Palace.

Ouyang Rong pointed to the wound on his head and asked softly, “Excuse me, who saved me?”

“How do you know it was us who saved you?” It was the Old Daoist in Crane Cloak who replied again.

Of the three people in the Underground Palace, Monk Kugao always kept his head down, chanting sutras, giving Ouyang Rong a profound and unfathomable feeling, and the slender girl seemed either too cold or too shy, not saying a word.

Looking at it this way, only this Old Daoist in Crane Cloak, who had a bit of a chatterbox personality, could talk.

Ouyang Rong slumped his shoulders, “I fell from above and woke up lying on my back, but I have a wound on my forehead. If it wasn’t you who saved me, then who did? It’s not like I had it before I fell.”

“You have a bit of a brain… Hmm, your guess is pretty accurate.” The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak smiled, “But don’t thank me and that dull Old Bald Donkey. Go thank her, this lass saved you.”

Ouyang Rong was a bit surprised, looking at the slender girl on his right. So she was someone with a cold exterior but a warm heart.

Mimicking the Old Daoist in Crane Cloak's similar wording, he also organized his words, cupping his hands awkwardly:

“Thank you… miss, for your assistance.”

The slender girl merely nodded slightly, appearing to be a person of few words.

Ouyang Rong even waited for a moment, then… felt slightly awkward.

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak couldn't help but burst into laughter, “Hahahahaha…”

“What are you laughing at?”

“She’s a Mute Girl, and you’re still waiting for her to speak? Hahahaha…”

Ouyang Rong was stunned and couldn't help but take another look at the slender girl.

Amidst the Old Daoist's laughter, her body, which was hugging her knees, trembled slightly, and her head was buried even lower.

Ouyang Rong shook his head, “All beings suffer, don’t mock her.”

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak scoffed, “Which eye of yours saw this poor Daoist mocking her? I’m laughing because it’s really too interesting here, hahahaha.”

“This Jingtu Underground Palace has gathered the four of us. This one is a mystical Old Bald Donkey, this one is a foolish Mute Girl, and you are a bookish fool. And this poor Daoist, heh, is also a disreputable thing covered in festering sores. The four of us are together, hahahaha, it’s too interesting.”

Ouyang Rong glanced at the Old Daoist in Crane Cloak's throat. The latter was laughing too violently, and some skin with festering pustules was exposed from his neck, which had previously been hidden in the black crane cloak.

But what was strange was that this Old Daoist, covered in sores, had a youthful appearance and complexion. If not for his white hair and hunched body, he would truly be no different from a youth.

He truly had the appearance of a youth with white hair.

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak suddenly asked, “Hey, young man, do you want a wife?”

Ouyang Rong thought for a moment, “Daoists do not speak falsely.”

“Just say whether you want one or not.”

His body nodded honestly, but he said, “Daoist Priest, ah, how can I be so presumptuous…”

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak clapped his hands and laughed heartily, pointing at the slender Mute Girl.

“Then this lass will do. Anyway, we can’t get out. You two, one a bookworm and one a little Mute Girl, are a perfect match. You’d make a well-suited pair of star-crossed lovers, hahahaha. Little girl, what do you think? If you don’t speak within three breaths, I’ll take it as your agreement… Alright then, let’s have the wedding now. Before dawn, you two hurry and perform the bowing ceremony and consummate the marriage.”

Ouyang Rong silently watched the Old Daoist, who was enjoying the show, without saying a word.

The slender Mute Girl also remained motionless, as if ignoring him.

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak chuckled for a while, and finding no one responding, he wasn't embarrassed, and naturally adjusted his Hunyuan turban.

“Hmph, treating good intentions like donkey liver and lungs. Don’t regret it later.”

Ouyang Rong didn't respond.

The rain outside had stopped at some point. After the dark clouds receded, the moon had set and the stars were scattered, and the entire world had grown much dimmer.

This night scene was not unfamiliar to Ouyang Rong, who often woke up early to study on the rooftop; it meant dawn was approaching.

He looked again at the well-sized hole at the top of the Underground Palace's center, and couldn't help but murmur, “Is this really Jingtu?”

“How could that be false? Are you not believing Master Bu Zhi’s words again?” The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak said with a smile.

Lord sighed, then softly confessed, “If only I had known, I wouldn’t have looked at such things in a sacred Buddhist place.”

“Looked at what?” The Old Daoist seemed very interested in him, watching him from beginning to end.

Indeed, Master Bu Zhi was muttering sutras to himself, and the little Mute Girl couldn't speak, so only the two of them could have a somewhat normal conversation.

“Things that deduct Karma.”

“You scholars believe in this too?”

“I didn’t used to, but now I half-believe.”

“Only half-believe?”

“Because the education I’ve received in the past doesn’t allow me to believe it completely.”

“Though you are a bookworm, your words are quite interesting.”

Ouyang Rong suddenly turned his head, “How do you know I’m a bookworm? Are there other scholars outside? Do you know me?”

“No, I don’t.” The Old Daoist pouted, “But this outfit of yours, isn’t it the one for studying the sages’ teachings? And you speak so secretively, not straightforward at all!”

“Then is there… outside…”

“Don’t worry about outside. Wasn’t that flood just now enough to make you give up? Just stay put, it’s not easy to find a Jingtu. Hahaha, this poor Daoist also needs a good rest.”

“If this is Jingtu… why have only the four of us come? Where are the others?”

“Because you, young man, are lucky. Everyone else is suffering outside.” The Old Daoist waved his hand impatiently, “Also, you scholars shouldn’t always think about being some kind of sage to save the world.”

“Are there sages in this world?” Ouyang Rong asked curiously.

“Yes, there are.” The Old Daoist gestured with a nudge, “Aren’t you one? Without the power of a sage, you worry like a sage.”

Ouyang Rong shook his head, “I am not a sage, nor do I have the heart of a sage.”

“That’s for the best. Moreover, what kind of sages are they? They are clearly great thieves.”

The Old Daoist sneered, pointing his index finger outside: “All these natural and man-made disasters are ultimately caused by those who claim to be disciples of sages. As long as there are sages in the world, there will be great thieves who steal the sage’s name and artifacts. So how is a sage any different from a great thief? One is unintentional, the other intentional, both sources of chaos. Sages and great thieves should all die! Sages should die most of all!”

Ouyang Rong looked up at him, “You’re talking about the Daoist idea of ‘if sages don’t die, great thieves won’t stop’. I learned that in my specialty… in my coursework, I know it so well I can recite it backwards.”

“Oh? You learned that in your coursework?” The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak was a little surprised.

Ouyang Rong hesitated for a moment, then said subtly, “To be precise, I study a bit of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, and understand a bit of each.” Damn it, how could he not be familiar with his major courses? Did they think he was just messing around during his postgraduate entrance exam?

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak raised an eyebrow, couldn't help but take another look at him, and suddenly asked, “What is the highest truth of the Holy Teachings?”

Ouyang Rong casually picked a short one to answer, “Vast and empty, without sages.”

This was a Buddhist question, asking what the highest truth of Buddhism was; Ouyang Rong's answer was, empty and vast, without any sages.

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak was silent for a while, uncharacteristically shedding his frivolousness.

After chewing on it for a moment with his gaze lowered, he looked at him and said, “That’s not ‘a bit’ from you.”

Ouyang Rong sighed, “That’s why I need to go back even more.”

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak sneered, “Still saying ‘vast and empty, without sages’. And yet you want to go up and save the common people again.”

Ouyang Rong didn't explain; his 'go back' and the Old Daoist's 'go up' weren't entirely the same thing.

Feeling his strength had mostly recovered, Ouyang Rong stood up, supporting himself with his palms, and once again walked towards the central Lotus Pedestal.

For the first time in his life, he had prepared for something so earnestly, dedicating all his time and effort, but just as he was about to embrace it, fate suddenly told him:

It’s over…

It’s all over.

Ouyang Rong disagreed.

“I don’t save the common people, I… save myself.”

He answered softly, but it was more like he was talking to himself.

The Old Daoist in Crane Cloak shook his head, said no more, and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall.

Master Bu Zhi noticed the movement, paused his chanting, and with a compassionate expression, advised again, “Benefactor, this place is the Lotus Jingtu, above is the Infinite Hell…”

The Old Daoist, with closed eyes, said, “Don’t waste your breath. He is a sage; his realm is different from ours, ha.”

“Sages!” Master Bu Zhi seemed to recall something, lowering his head and murmuring, “Sages are dead, Dao Ancestors are dead, even the Buddha… is dead. Why are there still people so deluded as to go up to their deaths?”

The Monk chanted a Buddhist verse, clasped his hands, and continued to recite the sutra:

“Thus have I heard, there are now sentient beings suffering, fallen into Hell, with Ox-Head Jailers, Horse-Face Rakshas, holding spears and halberds, driving them into the city gates, towards the Infinite Hell, to be beasts, to be ghosts, to be pus, to be blood, to be ashes, to be miasma, to have their bodies shattered by flying sand and sharp blows, to have their souls crushed by lightning and hail, to be swollen, to be rotten, to be great mountains of flesh, with a hundred thousand eyes, countless gnawing…”

Ouyang Rong walked past, oblivious. As he passed the slender Mute Girl, she suddenly reached out to ‘stop’ him.

Looking down, the girl, who had been hugging her knees with her face buried, actually offered him a sheepskin water pouch.

He licked his dry lips, took it, and noticed that her right palm only had four fingers.

Ouyang Rong tilted his head and drank a mouthful without touching his lips to it, then returned it.

“Thank you.”

The Mute Girl retracted her hand, missing a pinky finger, and didn't stop him again.

He walked past her, and only then did he see that she had been sitting on a straight 'long strip' all along. The long strip was like a sword.

Ouyang Rong picked up the lotus golden lamp that had broken in half on the ground. Fortunately, the rope was still tightly tied to the lamp holder and could still be used.

It was the same place, and the same method.

This time, perhaps it was due to familiarity, or perhaps good luck, Ouyang Rong, standing on the Lotus Pedestal, only tried five times before successfully throwing the half-broken lotus lamp out of the cave.

And it tightly wrapped around a fixed heavy object outside.

Lord, unwilling to give up, began to climb. This time, he concentrated, carefully paying attention to the movements outside.

Finally.

He once again safely climbed to a position near the exit.

Ouyang Rong found that this exit indeed resembled a well, as there was a cylindrical passage about a meter long connecting the ceiling of the square underground palace below.

Ouyang Rong observed for a while, preparing to enter the last section of the passage.

But just then, a sudden beastly roar came from outside the well. This roar was neither human nor beast, a sound Ouyang Rong had never heard. What made him even more despairing was that the rope he tightly held in his arms began to sway without wind—some kind of creature above was pulling and biting his rope, and the rope was about to break!

At the critical moment, Ouyang Rong's body, like a bent Nine-Stone Strong Bow, suddenly pulled up and sprang, throwing the rope in mid-air. His hands firmly gripped the edge of the wellhead, and the broken rope fell back into the underground palace beside him.

Ouyang Rong hung there alone, his chest heaving violently like a bellows, but the unknown evil outside made him dare not gasp loudly, only suppressing it, suppressing it.

He exhaled in small, rapid breaths, and his trembling fingers gripping the edge of the wellhead could clearly feel the roughness of the rock and the slipperiness of blood mixed with morning dew.

His palms were bleeding, but Lord remained motionless, seemingly still processing the series of sudden changes that had occurred moments ago.

Below, Master Bu Zhi, Old Daoist in Crane Cloak, and Duanzhi Ya Nu all looked up at him.

Ouyang Rong looked down.

Master Bu Zhi shook his head at him, "amitabha."

Old Daoist in Crane Cloak closed his eyes, chanting for the first time tonight: "May immeasurable Heavenly Venerate bring blessings, with inconceivable Karma."

Mute Girl stood up, letting out a soft 'ah', unsure what she wanted to say, with reluctance in her eyes.

Ouyang Rong pulled at his mud-stained lips and smiled at them.

He really wanted to go home.

Even if it was God's joke to be reborn, he still wanted to climb up and see with his own eyes.

Even if it was truly the Infinite Hell, Ouyang Rong had to see it once to completely give up.

Ouyang Rong looked up. The sky, the size of the wellhead above, was already bright. He was hungry and tired, but he exerted the last bit of strength, like that final pull-up to pass the end-of-term physical test…

He climbed out.

…

The dry well stood in front of a peach blossom grove, surrounded by a stone fence.

Ouyang Rong, slumped by the well, was dumbfounded.

What met his eyes was a Zen courtyard with green tiles and red walls. In the distance, amidst the lush green bamboo forest, he could occasionally glimpse a Clock Tower with upturned eaves. On the tower, a yawning Monk was slowly striking the morning bell.

To the east, a red sun was slowly rising from the eastward-flowing great river, meeting the gaze of all living beings who dared to look directly at it.

"This…" His slightly sunken eye sockets were bathed in a warm glow as he inhaled the unique sandalwood fragrance of an ancient temple deep in the mountains.

Just as the dull, distant sound of the bell echoed through the mountains, a group of Monks suddenly pushed open the half-closed courtyard gate, nimbly scaled the stone fence, and hurried to Ouyang Rong, gathering around him with surprise.

"Prefect, Prefect, you're here! How did you come to Beitian Jiyang Hospital!"

"Prefect, we've been looking for you so hard! Where were you last night? We searched all night. The Abbot and Xiaoyan, the constable who was watching you, almost died of anxiety! They were even preparing to go down the mountain this morning to notify the yamen and send people to search the mountain!"

"amitabha, fortunately, fortunately, Prefect, if we had found you any later, Constable Xiaoyan would have made us all lose our heads. Is your head injury okay? Eh, where are your clothes…"

A group of Monks surrounded Ouyang Rong, bombarding him with questions. The latter remained in a state of confusion throughout, staring blankly at the bobbing bald heads until his eyes blurred.

"Alright, alright, stop shouting. Prefect's injury… just healed. Don't crowd him, make way so he can breathe." Finally, a young novice Monk, seemingly the leader, stepped forward and dispersed the human wall.

This young novice Monk was about ten years old, with delicate features and a very shiny forehead. When he leaned in to examine Ouyang Rong, there was even a bit of reflective glare.

The young novice Monk waved his hand in front of Ouyang Rong's eyes, then, with a profound expression, took his pulse. After a flurry of activity, he finally let out a sigh of relief.

He couldn't help but mutter: "I didn't expect Master's medical skills to actually be reliable sometimes, able to revive someone after so many days of unconsciousness… Cough, cough, Prefect, when did you wake up, and why did you leave the courtyard alone in the middle of the night?"

"You… you all… I… no." Ouyang Rong opened and closed his mouth, touching the wound on his forehead, unsure how to speak.

Finally, he reacted, hurriedly pointing to the dry well behind him, saying: "The people down there, down there…"

The young novice Monk was startled, exchanged glances with his fellow disciples, and frowned, asking: "Prefect, did you fall into this… this Jingtu Underground Palace last night?"

Ouyang Rong nodded, opened his mouth to speak, but didn't know how to ask, "Is it really called Jingtu down there?"

"That's what it's called."

Seeing his confused expression, the young novice Monk probably realized something. He pointed to the dry well and explained:

"Prefect, this Jingtu Underground Palace used to be where our Donglin Temple enshrined sarira. It was built in this dynasty…" As if he had said something taboo, the young novice Monk immediately corrected himself, "It was during the Tai Zong era of the previous dynasty, by the temple's former Abbot, under imperial decree. At that time, it was popular for Buddhist temples across the country to erect pagodas, build underground palaces, and welcome Buddhist relics. However, later the Lotus Pagoda above collapsed due to fire, and this Jingtu Underground Palace also fell into disuse… As for the people inside now…"

The young novice Monk walked to the well and shouted directly inside: "Hey, Xiuzhen Senior Brother! It's time for morning vegetarian meal!"

Soon, Master Bu Zhi's familiar voice came from below Ouyang Rong:

"How are you outside, Lord? Come down quickly! This place is the Lotus Pure Land, and above is the Infinite Hell!"

Ouyang Rong was speechless.

The young novice Monk turned around and sighed: "Xiuzhen Senior Brother has been mad for many years. He used to be quite good, but later he always said we were evil creatures who wanted to eat him, and he kept looking for dog holes and bed boards, saying he wanted to find a Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss… Beitian Jiyang Hospital couldn't keep him, so we had to hang him down with a rope and deliver vegetarian meals regularly. He also likes to stay down there."

Ouyang Rong frowned, looked down at his hands chafed by the rope, and couldn't help but ask: "Then, there are two other people down there…"

"Ah, there are two more down there?" The young novice Monk was startled, then nodded, "Oh, they should be patients and beggars taken in by Beitian Jiyang Hospital." He looked around, "The dry well is at the back door of Beitian Jiyang Hospital. It seems the Senior Brother managing the courtyard was negligent again yesterday, allowing the admitted patients and beggars to run out and fall in."

"Beitian Jiyang Hospital?" Ouyang Rong was stunned, recalling the Duanzhi Ya Nu and the Old Daoist covered in sores below.

The young novice Monk looked at Ouyang Rong, whose emotions seemed a bit unstable, and cautiously said: "Yes, speaking of which, Beitian Jiyang Hospital can operate thanks to your compassionate heart, Prefect. The County Yamen provides annual subsidies, and we are responsible for taking in some of the county's common ailments and the old, weak, sick, and disabled. Prefect, they didn't scare you last night, did they?"

Ouyang Rong lowered his head and remained silent.

Seeing him in thought, the young novice Monk actually felt a bit intimidated.

Perhaps it was the natural reverence of commoners in this era for those with official status, all attributed to some kind of official prestige. In reality, Ouyang Rong knew there was no such thing as official prestige; it was merely that Donglin Temple was under this county's jurisdiction. If all life and death were in the hands of others, one would naturally always be cautious of the other party's expression and mood.

At this moment, the sharp-eyed young novice Monk suddenly saw a dirty beggar in the nearby bamboo forest, crawling on all fours, frantically tearing at things, looking mentally unwell.

He quickly winked at his fellow disciples, signaling them, so several Monks rushed to apprehend the person and escort him back to Beitian Jiyang Hospital.

Lord, who was silently looking down, actually saw most of these small movements and the various expressions of the Monks around him.

He wasn't stunned by these great ups and downs; it was just… after these absurd reasons dispelled the absurd misunderstandings, a new, almost certain reality lay before him, and he was somewhat… even more disappointed.

Ouyang Rong suddenly felt his head starting to spin, but he still managed to stand up, patiently saying a few words to them: "I'm fine, I wasn't scared. Thank you for explaining so much. Oh, I haven't asked your name yet…"

The young novice Monk immediately stood at attention, relieved, and smiled: "My monastic name is Xiufa, Prefect. You can just call me that."

Ouyang Rong glanced at Xiufa's shiny forehead and nodded, "Alright, Xiufa. No need to help me, I can manage… But I still have a question."

"Prefect, please speak!"

"Last night, last night's heavy rain and the great flood, did you hear it? What was the cause of such a commotion!"

Xiufa, the young Monk, and his companions, who were just laughing and talking easily a second ago, immediately fell silent.

Ouyang Rong felt his head spinning more and more. He grabbed Xiufa's small shoulder, his voice weak but undeniable: "Tell me."

Seeing his companions also looking at him, Xiufa, the young Monk, had no choice but to brace himself and point south, whispering:

"Prefect, as you are newly appointed, you should know that the fields of Jiangzhou are lower than those of the world; the fields of Longcheng are lower than those of Jiangzhou; and among the converging marshes, Yunmeng is the greatest. The Yunmeng Ancient Marsh is right next to our Longcheng County…"

"It's the plum rain season now, and the water level of Yunmeng Marsh has risen sharply. Last night… the Digong Sluice that held back the water collapsed, and mountain floods erupted… Now, not only our Longcheng County, but all counties in the Jiangzhou region are submerged by the great flood."

Hearing the familiar yet unfamiliar terms like 'Yunmeng Marsh', 'Digong Sluice', and 'Longcheng County', Ouyang Rong's already dizzy head, as if an allergic reaction, began to ache intensely.

It was like someone had violently inserted a water pipe into his head, and the faucet connected to the other end had its switch suddenly turned to maximum.

Ouyang Rong pushed everyone away, stumbling out of Beitian Jiyang Hospital to an open spot with a good view. Looking south down the mountain, as far as his eyes could see, there were collapsed houses, submerged fields, and wailing women and children…

What met his eyes was a land of water.

For some reason, witnessing this scene, a line of poetry suddenly appeared in Ouyang Rong's mind, as if it had been inserted out of thin air: "Everywhere the cries of suffering, the city filled with blood, all for a single thought to save the common people."

This slightly 'chuunibyou' style was nothing like his 'old fun-loving person' who only cared for himself, but rather… the memories and thoughts of the Gentleman 'original self' began to gush forth with the headache.

"Good heavens, my dead memories are attacking me… Wait, I remember now, I'm the new County Magistrate of Longcheng. On the day I took office, I publicly announced that I would solve the flood problem, and as a result… I immediately fell into the water and drowned… What a unlucky fellow, why set such a flag, damn it…"

Before Ouyang Rong lost consciousness, the last thing he heard was the urgent shouts of Xiufa and the others…

He suddenly felt that perhaps staying in that pure land below wasn't so bad after all?

…

New year, new beginning, new story, new fencing! (Bending over)