# 584
**Chapter 585: A Message**
Outside the Buddha Hall.
“What was that noise just now?” Lu Wuwei frowned as he stared at the hall, puzzled.
“I don’t know,” Guan Zai shook his head, then turned to Zuo Qing beside him. “What did you mean when you said he was trading his life for my brother’s?”
Zuo Qing stood with his back to them, eyes fixed on the doors of the Buddha Hall. His fists were clenched tight, sorrow and pain etched deep into his gaze. He didn’t answer.
He knew—Ye Fan had succeeded.
*Creak—*
The doors of the hall slowly swung open. A figure in black stood behind them, looking up at the golden sun in the sky like a divine statue detached from the world. Two lines of tears slid from the corners of his eyes, falling gently to the ground.
In his chest, a crystalline heart shimmered with light.
When they saw that face, both Lu Wuwei and Guan Zai froze in place.
Guan Zai stared blankly, his eyes filled with disbelief. His body trembled uncontrollably.
“Didn’t they say… he was dead?” Guan Zai’s voice was hoarse.
Zuo Qing said nothing.
Guan Zai snapped back to his senses and rushed up the final steps toward the figure. This time, Zuo Qing didn’t stop him.
“Brother Zhou Ping!” he shouted.
Zhou Ping turned slightly. In the sunlight, his tear-streaked face was filled with guilt and sorrow.
“Brother Guan…”
Guan Zai ran up to him, a genuine smile on his face. “Zhou Ping, I’m so glad you’re okay!”
Zhou Ping stared for a long time, a bitter look in his eyes.
He shook his head and said:
“Brother Guan… right now, I just need to be alone.”
Guan Zai was stunned.
Zhou Ping lifted his right foot and stepped gently over the threshold. A faint sword flash flickered, slicing through space, and he vanished.
Guan Zai stood there in a daze. Once Zhou Ping was gone, his gaze drifted through the open doors into the hall…
Inside the solemn and grand Buddha Hall, the six heroic spirits had vanished.
Only a golden Buddha remained, eyes closed in a serene smile, sitting quietly on the ground—utterly lifeless.
Guan Zai’s pupils shrank sharply!
…
Xijin City.
Third Uncle’s Home-Style Restaurant.
A figure in black stepped out of the void and stood before the small, worn-down restaurant.
The place sat at the edge of an alley. Its sign was yellowed from sun and wind, and the menu taped to the door was tattered. Still, it had a loyal customer base. Even with its remote location, people came by now and then.
The door was open. From the steps, Zhou Ping could clearly hear the chatter inside—someone’s kid had won an award at school, another complaining about how hot the bricks were at the construction site, someone planning to take his wife and kids to a fancy restaurant downtown… if only he had the money.
The air was thick with the scent of food—sharp green peppers and garlic sizzling in oil, the sweet aroma of rock sugar melting, the savory fragrance of onions and pork. Mixed with the idle talk of customers, it created a warm, comforting atmosphere.
This was the scent of the streets. The scent of the mortal world.
This was home.
Zhou Ping stood at the bottom of the steps, watching his third uncle bustle about inside, taking orders and serving food. His heart was heavy with complicated emotions.
His uncle had just served a plate of onion-fried pork when he turned and saw Zhou Ping standing there like a statue. He raised an eyebrow.
“So you finally remembered how to come back?” he grinned.
Zhou Ping opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Seeing him frozen, his uncle clicked his tongue.
“What are you standing there for? Get in here and help! We’re packed today. I’ve been running this place solo—cooking, serving, cleaning. I’m dying here.”
He wiped his greasy hands on his apron, hurried down the steps, grabbed Zhou Ping by the wrist, and pulled him inside.
As they walked, he rambled on:
“You only asked for a month off. It’s been *how* many months now? I thought you weren’t coming back. Let me tell you—I’m docking two hundred yuan from your wages!”
“And that Ye kid you found to cover for you? Totally unreliable! He didn’t even last a month before sneaking off. Couldn’t wash dishes, couldn’t sweep the floor—what *could* he do?”
“Still, my nephew’s the best!”
Zhou Ping was dragged inside. His uncle let go and hurried back to the kitchen, leaving him standing there, unsure of what to do.
“Hey, Xiao Zhou’s back?” a regular customer greeted him with a smile. “Get me some stir-fried greens and pork with wild rice stems. Tell your uncle to go heavy on the meat!”
Zhou Ping instinctively grabbed the order pad and scribbled down the dishes, then headed to the kitchen.
Amid the sizzling woks and laughter, everything felt like it had returned to normal.
Today was indeed busy.
By the time Zhou Ping sat down, it was nearly two in the afternoon.
He sat at a table near the door, sleeves still rolled up, staring blankly at the alley outside and the sky beyond. Lost in thought.
His uncle came out of the kitchen, saw him like that, paused, then turned back inside.
Just then, a figure appeared at the door.
Zhou Ping looked up and froze.
Zuo Qing, dressed in casual clothes, walked up the steps, pushed open the door, and entered.
“It’s you?” Zhou Ping recognized him.
Zuo Qing smiled. He glanced at the menu and said:
“Can I get some tomato and egg stir-fry? And a bowl of rice.”
Zhou Ping hesitated. “Sure.”
He took the order to the kitchen. Zuo Qing sat down, back straight, looking around.
Soon, Zhou Ping returned with the food and placed it in front of him, then sat across the table.
“How did you know I was here?” Zhou Ping asked.
Zuo Qing pulled a pair of chopsticks from the basket, poured the tomato and egg over his rice, and began mixing it.
“There’s only one place you’d go,” he said.
“I know… I shouldn’t have left. But…” Zhou Ping paused, eyes downcast. “My heart’s in chaos.”
“I understand,” Zuo Qing nodded. “I’m just here to deliver a message.”
“A message?”
“Words Ye Fan wanted you to hear.”