The next morning, Tian Hao sat alone in the tavern, lost in thought. The image of the woman with the scar lingered in his mind — her cold, piercing eyes haunted him. Every time he closed his own, he saw darkness swallowing him whole, as if he were drowning in it. Because of that, he hadn't slept a wink all night.
As he sat staring blankly at his untouched tea, a familiar voice called out.
"Senior Brother! So you're here — we've been looking for you everywhere!"
It was Monk Fahai, slightly out of breath.
"When I opened my eyes this morning, you were gone," Fahai said.
Tian Hao gave a faint smile. "I just went out for a walk. Needed some fresh air."
"Then I'll go fetch the others," Fahai said, before hurrying off.
A little while later, all the monks gathered around the table, chatting and eating their simple breakfast.
Tian Hao glanced around and asked, "Where's Soho?"
Fahai replied, "He said he wasn't feeling well, so he wasn't going to eat."
But before Tian Hao could respond, one of the monks pointed out the window and shouted, "Wait… isn't that him?"
Everyone turned to look — and there was Soho, sitting in another tavern across the street, happily eating roasted meat and drinking wine.
Tian Hao nearly choked on his tea. "He said he was sick!"
Fahai sighed. "He's not sick… he just didn't want to eat with us because we don't let him drink wine or eat meat."
They all stared as Soho guarded his plate like a starving beast, eating so fast it looked as if someone might snatch his meal away at any moment.
The monks exchanged silent looks, while Tian Hao muttered under his breath, "And he calls me the one tempted by worldly desires…"
Fahai glanced out the window again and said, "But, Senior Brother… he's not a monk. He's just cooperating with us for this mission."
Tian Hao sighed. "You're right. He isn't a monk."
With that reminder, everyone quietly began eating again.
A few minutes later, Soho finally walked over, clutching his stomach dramatically. "Ah… I really wasn't feeling well," he groaned. "But I'll still go with you. It's my duty — the Alliance Leader entrusted this mission to me, after all."
Every monk turned to look at him with blank expressions.
In their hearts, they all thought the same thing: What thick skin… how can someone lie so shamelessly?
Tian Hao clasped his hands together and murmured, "Amitabha. May Buddha show you mercy when you go to hell for lying."
Soho blinked. "What? When did I lie?"
Fahai snapped, "We saw you! Eating meat like a starving beast and drinking wine like it was your last day alive!"
Hearing that, Soho lowered his head, face turning red. He couldn't even meet their eyes.
Tian Hao sighed and stood up. "Enough. Let's go see Elder Linghui."
The monks all nodded in agreement and rose to leave.
Tian Hao glanced at Soho, who still had his head down. "You too."
Without looking up, Soho muttered quietly, "...Okay."
As the monks left for the Beggar Sect, somewhere else in the city, a different kind of meeting was taking place…
Dim alley. Several beggars lie dead on the ground, their bodies twisted in pain. The faint smell of blood mixes with smoke from a nearby torch.
One beggar — still alive — trembles as he's held down. The woman with the scar slowly steps closer, her cold eyes fixed on him.
"Who sent you?" she asks, her voice calm but sharp enough to cut through the silence.
The beggar stammers, fear in his voice, "It… it was the branch leader, Elder Linghui. He ordered us to investigate… to find where you live!"
The woman's eyes narrow. Elder Linghui? Did he find out about our plan? She frowns, thinking deeply. "No," she mutters to herself. "That's unlikely."
Then, without hesitation, she grips the beggar's neck and says softly, "I'll ask you one last time — what do you know about me?"
"I swear," the beggar pleads weakly, "I know nothing! I was only following orders!"
"How many came with you?"
"Only… only all of us."
The woman smiles coldly. "That's perfect."
With one swift motion, she tightens her grip. A sickening crack echoes through the alley, and the beggar's body falls limp to the ground.
Just then, a man in a red cloak steps out from the shadows. "My lady," he says quietly, "is it possible… that our plan has been exposed?"
She turns to him, her expression calm and confident. "No. That's impossible. Even if they know… it's far too late to stop it now."
Hao and the monks arrived at the Beggar Sect to meet Elder Linghui, who had promised to take. Make hao a model for the competition When they entered the small sect grounds, they found the elder sitting alone inside a wooden hut, deep in thought.
They bowed respectfully and clasped their fists.
Elder Linghui looked up, forcing a faint smile. "So, you've arrived."
Soho tilted his head. "Elder, you seem troubled. Is something wrong?"
Linghui sighed softly. "I sent a few of our men to gather information about that mysterious woman we spoke of… but none of them have returned. Not a single word."
The monks exchanged uneasy looks.
He waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, it's probably nothing. They're likely slacking off somewhere — drinking or gambling, no doubt. When they return, I'll give them a proper scolding for not reporting back all day."
He stood up, brushing the dust off his robe. "Enough about that. Let's go."
They walked until they reached the largest building on the street — a gaudy hall where a crowd spilled in and out. Elder Linghui pushed open the door and called out, "Go fetch the manager of the magazine!"
One of the worker nodded and hurried away. After a short wait a middle-aged man arrived, wiping his hands on his apron. He bowed a little when he saw Linghui. "So it's the elder from the Beggar Sect. What can I do for you?"
Linghui answered plainly, "I brought a model for your Top Fifty Handsome Men portraits."
The manager glanced at Soho and smirked. "Elder, with respect… I think I am more handsome than that fellow." He jerked his chin toward Soho in a teasing way.
Soho bristled. "What did you just say—?"
Linghui cut in before the argument grew. "No, I'm not talking about him. Where is the model? Where did you put him?"
Soho pointed, "He was waiting outside. Go fetch him."
The soho stepped out and returned a moment later with Tian Hao. When the manager saw the monk's face he froze, then burst into surprise. "Is he really from Shaolin? Is this the monk I've heard about?"
Elder Linghui nodded. "Yes — he's the one you wanted a portrait of. Go get him, and don't forget your promise: whoever brings me his portrait will get three hundred silver coins."
The manager's eyes lit up. He reached into his pouch and slapped five hundred coins onto the table. "Here. More than I promised — even better than I expected."
Tian Hao's face hardened. "Why are you giving him money?" he asked, baffled.
The manager shrugged and smiled. "You didn't know? When I first heard rumors of a handsome Shaolin monk, I went to the temple asking permission to make his portrait. They refused. So I spread the rumor anyway. I offered three hundred silver for whoever could give me his portrait — but I didn't expect him to show up in person. Since you brought him, Elder, take this extra two hundred as a finder's fee."
Tian Hao looked at Linghui, hurt and angry. "You didn't tell us you were making a profit from this."
Linghui spread his hands. "You never asked." He glanced at the other monks as their eyes fell on the coins. Quick as a blink, he palmed the money and hid it in his robe. "It's mine now," he muttered, then called to the manager, "You have half a day — make as many portraits as you can."
With a satisfied nod, the Linghui left the building. The monks stared after him, greedy looks in their eyes, while Tian Hao stood stunned — the sting of humiliation and betrayal burning fresh.