The morning.
Outside the train station, the morning sun shone on a bald head.
Wang Ming carried a duffel bag on his shoulder. His black leather jacket and tight-fitting tank top made him the center of attention.
The main reason, however, was his bald head and the burn scars.
Wang Ming looked at the gazes of the people around him and frowned, wondering if he should find a place to stay and come out again at night.
But when he took out the money from his pocket, he saw only one hundred and twenty yuan in coins.
He dismissed the thought.
Wang Ming searched aimlessly.
He arrived at a busy street where people were buying groceries.
Wang Ming observed the pedestrians coming and going.
Suddenly, an old woman in the crowd caught his attention.
Seeing a faint trace of dark energy on the old woman's forehead, Wang Ming's lips curved into his signature sinister smile: "It's time to open for business."
The old woman, carrying a basket of vegetables, seemed to be heading home.
Wang Ming suddenly stepped forward and stopped the old woman who was about to leave, his face breaking into a smile: "Benefactress, please stay."
The old woman looked at Wang Ming's attire and instinctively took a step back, nervously sizing him up, muttering to herself.
"Oh dear, has this person just been released from prison? His smile is so terrifying."
Seeing the old woman's fear, Wang Ming coughed and introduced himself: "Benefactress, this humble monk is from Ten Thousand Buddha Temple, my dharma name is Wang Ming."
The old woman looked at Wang Ming and didn't believe him at all.
What monk would wear clothes like a young delinquent?
He's definitely not a good person.
Seeing the old woman's disbelieving expression, Wang Ming's lips curved upwards, and he said: "I see a dark aura surrounding your fortune palace, you might lose wealth recently."
Upon hearing this, the old woman's face turned displeased: "Bah, bah, bah, cursing me to lose money so early in the morning. Go away."
Wang Ming was not angered and continued: "If this humble monk is not mistaken, you have been losing money frequently recently, and not just once or twice."
Hearing this, the old woman became half-believing: "Will I really lose money recently?"
She had indeed been losing money these past few days, and it was always fifty or one hundred yuan bills.
Wang Ming nodded and slowly said: "If this humble monk is not mistaken, besides losing money, you have also had a poor appetite recently."
As soon as he said this, the old woman was completely convinced that Wang Ming was a monk with real abilities.
"Master is right, besides losing money, I have no appetite for anything these past few days."
Wang Ming smiled faintly. The dark aura surrounding the fortune palace was a sign of losing wealth.
The old woman continued to inquire: "Master, is there any way to break this?"
Hearing this, Wang Ming immediately got to the point: "It's not difficult to break this dark aura. All you need is a peace talisman to drive away this dark energy."
The old woman immediately understood what Wang Ming meant and asked: "Master, do you have this peace talisman? I can buy one."
Wang Ming nodded and took out a peace talisman from his duffel bag, smiling: "This peace talisman will protect you from losing money and keep you from getting minor illnesses throughout the year."
Looking at the peace talisman in Wang Ming's hand, the old woman inquired about the price: "Master, how much is this peace talisman?"
Wang Ming shook his head and murmured: "Amitabha, things that bring peace cannot be measured by money, only by affinity (yuan)."
This was not Wang Ming being deliberately mysterious. Buddhism emphasizes the concept of affinity.
There is an old saying that Buddha only saves those with affinity.
That's what it means.
The old woman immediately changed her wording: "Then Master, how much yuan for this peace talisman?"
Wang Ming smiled faintly and slowly uttered a few words: "Fifty thousand yuan in total."
Upon hearing this, the old woman's previously smiling face instantly fell.
Wang Ming also noticed that the old woman thought it was too expensive. Just as he was about to explain, the old woman interrupted him: "Master, how much money will I lose recently?"
Wang Ming took a closer look at the old woman's fortune palace and said: "Although there is a dark aura surrounding your fortune palace, it is not very dense. You should lose about ten thousand yuan in wealth."
The old woman tentatively asked: "Is what Master says true?"
Wang Ming nodded and smiled: "Amitabha, a monk does not speak in riddles. Everything I say is true."
Hearing Wang Ming's affirmative answer, the old woman turned and walked away.
Wang Ming was dumbfounded. Just as he was about to speak, he heard the old woman say unhappily: "I've only lost ten thousand yuan, why should I buy a fifty-thousand-yuan peace talisman?"
"Isn't this peace talisman also able to..."
Before Wang Ming could finish speaking, he saw the old woman walk away without looking back.
Wang Ming looked dejected.
The first business deal had gone like this, but he couldn't lie.
Wang Ming was unparalleled in other aspects, but in this area, he was completely clueless.
Fifty thousand yuan, no fool would buy it.
Even he wouldn't buy it, let alone others.
Wang Ming shook his head helplessly and sighed: "Alas, it seems I'll have to sleep in the park today."
He never expected that he, the Holy Master of Ten Thousand Buddha Temple, would one day be selling peace talismans.
The sun began to set.
Arriving at the park, Wang Ming found a bench and sat down cross-legged.
People taking walks in the park looked at Wang Ming, who was sitting cross-legged on a bench with his eyes slightly closed, with surprised expressions.
Some even exclaimed: "In this day and age, are even monks this fashionable?"
Wang Ming was a little unaccustomed at first, even wanting to find a secluded spot, but over time he got used to it.
Perhaps his skin had grown thicker.
The sun completely set, and the sky gradually darkened.
In this park at night, besides mosquitoes, the most common sights were probably young couples.
As for what they were doing... those who know, know.
From the small grove in the distance, the sounds of bodies colliding could occasionally be heard.
Most people might not understand this, but Wang Ming, a cultivator, could not fail to hear it.
In the small grove, a man and a woman looked at Wang Ming sitting cross-legged on the bench outside.
"Darling, why is this monk staying in the park at night instead of returning to the temple to chant scriptures?" the woman asked.
The man beside her glanced at Wang Ming on the bench with annoyance: "He's just a fake monk. He must be tired of the hard life in the temple and ran out to drink and eat meat, too afraid to go back."
"But he's been sitting there for over two hours, it's making me scared," the woman said coquettishly.
The man chuckled, his mind solely focused on his desires, and said with a lewd smile: "Don't worry, my dear. If he dares to come over, I'll knock him down with one punch."
Hearing this, Wang Ming instantly became enraged: "I ni..."
But the words caught in his throat, and he swallowed them, silently chanting: "Impulse is the devil... Impulse is the devil. Buddha resides in the heart, I must not be angry... must not be angry."
"Buddha is in the heart, all else is emptiness. Amitabha."
Wang Ming let out a long sigh, and his agitated mood calmed down.
In the small grove, the woman saw Wang Ming's lips moving and patted the man's arm: "Darling, that monk seems to have heard us talking and is cursing us."