Painted-Face Cat
"...someone is still playing tricks!" an emotionally agitated man could not help but shout. "At a time like this, who on earth used fake graphite!"
"But no one was eliminated yesterday. Logically, those who adulterate the materials shouldn't last until dawn the next day..." someone with a quick tongue replied. Realizing something, he quickly shut his mouth tight, but it was a bit too late. Others immediately looked at him, questioning sternly, "How did you come to this conclusion? Did you receive some information that the rest of us didn't?"
The man could only explain, "On the first day of repairing the Buddha, the painter working with me used fake ink, and the next day he was gone. That's why I made such an assumption."
"But if everyone stuck to their duties, why would the giant Buddha show such changes?"
"Is it possible that the so-called Immaculate Stone and Merit Ink are just a blind? The changes in the giant Buddha have nothing to do with them."
"Then what is it related to?"
"Women, of course." Someone swept a cold glance over all the female disciples present and sneered, "The Buddha statue has turned into the appearance of a woman. Isn't it obvious enough?"
"Enough, let's stop making wild guesses."
The one who called a halt to all this was still Duan Qinghe.
He took a step forward, coincidentally blocking Yingshi, who was keeping her head down and pretending to be a mushroom, and looked serious.
"Starting to suspect and accuse each other now won't do us any good, and the teachers watching the competition absolutely wouldn't want to see this scene," he said. "If you all really start fighting against each other and delaying time, it will bring consequences. Yesterday I noticed that the sky went dark almost the exact moment the last person finished their work. What if the time limit gets earlier and earlier each day? What should we do then?"
He seemed to still have some influence among the remaining disciples. The few people who had been shouting the loudest earlier fell silent with dark faces.
After a moment of silence, someone asked, "Then right now, are we still going to blindly execute the initial task and bury our heads in repairing the Buddha?"
"The Buddha has turned into this state, how can we still repair it?"
"Just repair it the same way we did before," Duan Qinghe said. "The focus has never really been on the stone and ink themselves, but on 'Immaculate' and 'Merit'."
After he finished speaking, he took the lead and walked towards the painting workshop on his own.
The others paused for a while, then hesitantly took a step and followed along.
Yingshi looked up and stared at Duan Qinghe's slightly stiff back for a few seconds, silently praising him in her heart for his unconscious cover-up, before she mingled with the team of stonemasons and left.
She was now certain that her and Shuangjian's line of thought was feasible, because the Buddha statue was obviously getting closer to her appearance! It was almost a proportional enlargement of her body!
It was just that its head was still unshaped, lacking a clear direction.
Now, the thought of the disciples smearing, painting, knocking, and beating on this personal figurine of hers made her feel quite awkward...
But come to think of it, this was also an indispensable and crucial link. The disciples needed to make some contribution to the shaping of the Buddha, otherwise wouldn't the rest of them just be accompanying runners?
As a second-round test, the Wujian Temple couldn't possibly allow only two disciples to advance. The disciples who failed to take on the roles of the evil spirit and the Buddha would certainly receive different scores based on their different performances.
...
Yingshi quickly finished her processing work at the stone table and rushed to the bottom of the Buddha statue first.
She had to be prepared. Just in case some disciples realized her resemblance to the Buddha statue during the close-up repair process and tried to confront her, she could hide first.
She planned to hide in a place where no one could find her after finishing her work in a while. The houses wouldn't do because the doors weren't locked...
Avoiding everyone was one aspect; on the other hand, she was also a bit afraid that Bai Fangsui would come looking for trouble with her again today.
If this goddess who hated evil like an enemy noticed the suspiciousness of the Buddha statue, she would definitely get to the bottom of it.
She wasn't an artisan and would never have her attention diverted by those words Duan Qinghe said. That would be very troublesome.
Yingshi worked anxiously and hastily, looking back from time to time. When she had used about half of the Immaculate Stone in her hand, she suddenly heard the sound of some heavy object collapsing.
She looked vigilantly in the direction of the sound—it was the stone table in the west courtyard where she had been not long ago.
Immediately after, more noisy shouts, angry curses, and the sound of objects colliding and breaking came one after another.
Yingshi was dumbfounded. She stood up in a panic, hesitating whether to go back and take a look.
Obviously, a dispute had broken out on the side of the stone table, and the scene was absolutely chaotic. She could hear the commotion from so far away; people might have actually started fighting!
She had an instinctive resistance to conflict because the role she played was relatively sensitive, and her acting skills were poor, so she was very likely to reveal flaws. But if she didn't go over, wouldn't it seem too cold? Would it be considered lacking compassion?
She worried that this would deduct points from her progress of becoming a Buddha!
Just as she gritted her teeth and wanted to turn back, she heard that the painting workshop in the east wing had also become chaotic. It seemed someone was screaming sternly, and there was the sound of tables being pushed and overturned.
It was just that the number of painters was originally much smaller than that of stonemasons, so the commotion sounded smaller in scale.
No wonder no painters had come over for a long time. The entire area was in a complete mess!
Did even a peacekeeping expert like Duan Qinghe fail to control the situation?
Yingshi watched the direction of the painting workshop and didn't expect to see a dancing orange-red halo rise. In almost the blink of an eye, a plume of thick smoke rolled up into the dim yellow sky. Immediately after, crimson tongues of fire recklessly licked the wooden window frames and eaves, instantly connecting into a sheet, the flames soaring into the sky!
...Help, how did the painting workshop catch fire?!
The heat wave even burned invisible ripples into the air!
This was the most realistic and lifelike occurrence in the eerie environment of the Wujian Temple!
Now there was no room for unnecessary weighing of options. Her body reacted before her mind. Yingshi threw down the small hammer and the remaining Immaculate Stone in her hand, and ran towards the backyard as fast as her legs could carry her.
Of course, she wasn't running away.
She remembered there was a water well just outside the narrow door of the backyard. The water she used to clean Shuangjian's wounds last time was obtained from there... Right now, of course, putting out the fire was the most important thing!
The thick smoke became more pungent, and the firelight pushed back the constant dim yellow in the sky over the courtyard.
Yingshi ran wildly with a bucket of water. When she rushed into the chaotic area at the door of the painting workshop, a few staggering figures just happened to struggle out from inside.
Duan Qinghe was coughing violently, supporting a disciple with each hand. When he bumped into Yingshi, he subconsciously told her to run quickly, saying the fire was out of control. But when he saw that the insignificant bucket of water Yingshi poured into the raging fire actually made it shrink by half instantly, his eyes couldn't help but flash, and he asked eagerly, "Miss Xu, where did this water come from?"
"There's a well in the backyard. Can you guys still run? You have to come with me to put out the fire!"
Duan Qinghe said no more, and stumbled towards the backyard with the few people who could still move, following Yingshi.
The red-eyed disciples fighting over by the stone platform in the west courtyard were also alarmed by the soaring flames and thick smoke. The cursing gradually died down, replaced by shouts of astonishment and panic.
It was unclear who first yelled, "Fire!", but the two groups of people who had just been grabbing each other's collars and smashing stones at one another surprisingly stopped at the same time. After exchanging a blank look, they surged toward the fire.
The instinct for survival, the fear of unknown rules, and perhaps a lingering trace of rationality temporarily suppressed the churning suspicion and brutality.
More and more disciples joined the ranks of carrying and splashing water. However, the vast majority of them seemed oblivious to the fact that the water they splashed did little to control the fire.
Every time the fire diminished, it seemed to be right after the young girl who had first picked up a bucket arrived. Whether her bucket was full or not, every splash produced a distinct effect the moment it was poured.
But Yingshi herself noticed it. She immediately felt a mountain of pressure. Unable to even slack off a little, she could only run back and forth time and time again, while also trying to hide the anomaly from being discovered by others.
Duan Qinghe also noticed it, but his expression only became slightly complex. Then he seemed to look around, as if searching for a pair of eyes hidden in the dark to meet his gaze. Ultimately, despite knowing it was futile, he continued to run back and forth along with the others.
Under what appeared to be everyone's desperate rescue but was in fact the effort of a single person, the fire was finally gradually brought under control, leaving only charred wood emitting green smoke and crackling in a mournful wail.
The painting workshop was more than half destroyed, and the air was filled with an unpleasant burnt smell.
Yingshi had run at least a dozen times. Now her face and body were covered in black ash and water stains, making her look thoroughly wretched.
She was so tired that she couldn't even speak, but the others didn't seem to share her exhaustion; they still had the energy to argue—
The disciples who had survived the disaster gathered here, sitting or slumped over. After the brief cooperation, the tense atmosphere began to spread once again.
Especially after discovering that although the fire looked terrifying, no one had been injured or eliminated because of it, the desire to hold someone accountable gained the upper hand.
"What exactly happened?" a stonemason asked in a hoarse voice. Wiping his face, he looked at the minority of disciples dressed as painters. "Did one of you set the fire?!"
A painter with bruises on his face abruptly raised his head upon hearing this. With unextinguished fury in his eyes, he glared at another painter standing far away from him. "If someone hadn't tried to sabotage things with fake ink, I wouldn't have knocked over the candlestick in my rush to stop him!"
"Bullshit!" The painter he was staring at stood up furiously. His features were so blackened by the smoke that they were indiscernible, but his anger was obvious. "You're spitting venom! Dare to say that again?! The fire started because of you, yet you point the finger at me? Everyone was grinding ink; why were you wandering around breaking the rules? Isn't it because you have a guilty conscience and are trying to shift the blame?"
"Don't listen to his sophistry; he's not a real craftsman! There's a spy in this second trial, and the spy has been standing here laughing at us, wreaking havoc! We must manually eliminate the spy, or the changes to the Buddha statues will never stop!"
A new round of accusations, rebuttals, and shoving began.
Yingshi ran to the periphery and looked at the crowd, reminded of delinquent teenagers having group fights at the gates of a middle school.
The same chaos, the same incompetent rage, the same choice of the most direct and stupid way to vent under pressure and confusion.
She suddenly realized that the environment of Wujian Temple, where spiritual power was restricted, brought immense psychological pressure to these native cultivators of the cultivation world. It was as if their hands and feet had been chopped off, depriving them of the sense of security they relied on to survive.
And once people lost their sense of security, they would become nervous and irritable. When they couldn't see progress or a way forward, they would make more extreme choices and become more easily incited.
The argument intensified, and a second brawl was on the verge of breaking out.
Duan Qinghe tried to shout them down again, but his voice was hoarse and instantly drowned out by the boiling curses. His face also bore a look of exhaustion and powerlessness.
Yingshi struggled with the thought: did she have to step forward?
She had to become a Buddha, and becoming a Buddha required sacrificing herself, embracing the spirit of "If I do not descend into hell, who will?" Did she have to shout, "Everyone stop fighting each other, why don't you all target me instead?"—Only someone with a hole in their head would do that!
She wasn't that noble. She didn't want to reason with everyone, and she certainly didn't want to get beaten up!
Feeling irritated, Yingshi covered her ears and looked up at the unchanging, suffocating dull yellow sky.
She thought... if only the sky could turn dark right away.
At least this chaotic day could be temporarily suspended. It would be best if the evening bell came suddenly enough to startle all those people fighting and arguing!
Make them scurry back to their rooms in disgrace and never pollute her ears again!
This thought was so strong that she almost screamed silently at the sky.
As if responding to the plea in her heart—
"Dong—"
The dull, majestic, and unquestionable sound of the evening bell rang out without warning over the courtyard, which was in shambles after the fire and the fight.
The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a basin of ice water poured over the heads of all the arguing, grappling, red-faced disciples.
Instantly, all was completely silent.
Everyone froze, maintaining their ridiculous postures, and looked up in astonishment.
We haven't been able to do any work today—someone thought with a pale face.
But the daylight had already begun to slide toward a deep ink-black color at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The clamor, anger, flames, and chaos of the day were all rendered insignificant by the bell tolling the arrival of the hour.
Everyone had to leave the stage.
Because it was dark.
...
"Phew..."
Yingshi exhaled deeply. The tense strength in her body seemed to be expelled along with that breath of stale air, leaving only the limpness of surviving a disaster.
Upon seeing the moon-white figure standing quietly outside the door, the corners of her mouth involuntarily turned down. After truly experiencing a sense of relief at being saved, she inexplicably felt a little like crying.
Various complex emotions surged into her heart, urgently needing to be poured out. She wanted to complain about the weirdos from the day, to vent about her exhausting firefighting efforts, to ask for advice on how to deal with the even more chaotic situations tomorrow, to open her palms with the red marks worn by the wooden buckets and show off this medal of suffering...
However, thousands of words were stuck in her throat. She opened her mouth, but only called his name with a slightly nasal voice: "Shuangjian..."
Shuangjian hadn't summoned her today; he had come to her door on his own to see her.
"..."
The moment the door opened, Shuangjian's gaze locked firmly onto Yingshi.
He looked at her standing in the room, covered in dirt and looking like an exhausted little animal that had just rolled out of a pile of mud and ash... His fingers couldn't help but curl slightly, but he didn't look away.
He approached, and before Yingshi had time to say anything more, he had already raised his hand, brushing his fingertips across her ash-stained cheek.
His movements were very gentle, like wiping a precious, dust-covered piece of porcelain.
Yingshi froze, subconsciously tilting her face up and letting him do as he pleased.
Shuangjian's fingertips were slightly cool. Brushing against her skin, they brought a soothing comfort, as if he were gently applying her makeup.
Yingshi always loved having others do her makeup or brush her hair; those feather-light touches never failed to make her drowsy.
Especially now, with her body so utterly exhausted. Shuangjian had barely touched her before her eyelids began to droop. She quickly shook herself out of that involuntary bliss, suddenly realizing that Shuangjian was actually wiping soot from her face. Oh no, the smoke must have turned her into a comical little smudge-faced cat!
Too busy laughing at everyone else's charred faces, Yingshi had completely forgotten to check her own appearance. Thank goodness her blushing wouldn't be visible under all this grime...
"Night fell so quickly, I forgot to freshen up," she said shyly. "I'm a little dirty. Maybe I should go wash up in the backyard and come back..."
As she spoke, she quietly took two steps back to avoid getting Shuangjian dirty too.
Shuangjian lowered his gaze to the dark ash staining his fingertips, then looked back at Yingshi. Despite her obvious exhaustion, her eyes were still bright and sparkling as she looked at him. A hidden corner of his heart felt as though it had been lightly brushed by a feather, stirring up a delicate, complex, and tender emotion.
What could he do to soothe this feeling?
He could find no answer. Yet, without a second thought, he stepped forward, instantly closing the distance Yingshi had just put between them.
He gently supported Yingshi's waist with his hand, his robes naturally brushing against her disheveled hem. He murmured in a low voice, "I will carry you there."
...Wait, what?
Yingshi's eyes went wide.
He was going to carry her?!
