Miss Cannon Fodder Wants To Escape Death Flags - Chapter 352
Chapter 352
Fanyin Temple.
At first glance, these two words seem rather ordinary, but together, they form the name of a renowned leader in the cultivation world, blending Buddhist and Taoist traditions.
Whether they are cultivators or ordinary people, those who hear this name often reveal expressions of reverence and murmur, “A truly righteous and noble sect.”
Long ago, Ning Ning thought the same.
That was until she witnessed Master Mingkong’s “human bell hammer” and Monk Yonggui’s impassioned “Buddhist scripture rap.”.
The radiant Fanyin Temple—something about it just didn’t seem quite right.
And today, Ning Ning finally had the chance to personally experience just how unusual this place truly was.
—
Shortly after the exchange program between the Xuanxu Sword Sect and the Wanjian Sword Sect, the Fanyin Temple hosted its triennial Dharma Assembly.
This event, a grand occasion in the Buddhist world, not only gathers Buddhist practitioners from all directions but also attracts disciples from major immortal sects to bask in the auspicious blessings and light of the Buddha.
The Xuanxu Sword Sect was one such sect.
This time, accompanying their leader Tian Xianzi were Ning Ning, Pei Ji, Zheng Weiqi, Lin Xun, and He Zhizhou.
“Don’t be fooled by the plain-sounding name ‘Dharma Assembly.’ Once you participate, you’ll realize how fascinating it actually is,” said Tian Xianzi, walking at the front while transmitting his voice to his disciples behind him.
“During the assembly, every elder of Fanyin Temple will offer a small lecture. The topics vary, allowing disciples from various sects to study Buddhist teachings and experience life as a monk at Fanyin Temple.”
As she listened, Ning Ning raised her eyes to take in the scenery of the temple.
Winter had yet to pass, and the world remained blanketed in pristine white snow.
The ancient temple leaned against a backdrop of layered mountains and peculiar peaks.
Its golden-glazed tiles shone resplendently, while the temple walls, painted in rich vermilion, stood in stark contrast to the evergreen pines and cypresses dusted with flawless white snow.
Though the colors around her were varied and vivid, the only sight Ning Ning could focus on was the bustling crowd.
The monks of the Fanyin Temple came from all corners of the world, and without exception, each sported a shaved, flesh-colored head.
As they gathered and moved among the crowd, they resembled boiling eggs in hot oil or ceaselessly undulating waves in the sea.
A cold winter wind swept through, prompting a soft cough from Pei Ji, who walked beside her.
After a period of recuperation in the sect, his body had somewhat recovered.
Though he could now walk normally, the injuries caused by heavenly thunder had been severe, leaving his spiritual consciousness still fragile.
Ning Ning glanced at him and spoke gently, “Are you cold?”
Pei Ji shook his head.
“I’m fine.”
When he answered, his long eyelashes lowered as he looked at her.
After speaking, he instinctively pressed his lips together, forcibly suppressing the discomfort in his throat.
Dressed in black today, Pei Ji’s pallor was accentuated by the dark hue, making his face appear even more ashen.
His thin, bloodless lips seemed excessively dry and chapped.
Ning Ning’s gaze naturally drifted upward, spotting the jade-white hairband tied in his black hair.
It was the one she had gifted him in Luan City.
After giving it to him, Ning Ning hadn’t seen him use it much.
She had assumed he preferred darker shades and thought the color too bold and striking.
But after returning from the desert, He Zhizhou told her that Pei Ji had kept the hairband tucked close to his chest.
Only when the final heavenly thunder struck did he use it to tie his hair.
Back then, He Zhizhou had jokingly asked her, “Hey Ning Ning, seeing how much Pei Ji treasures that hairband, don’t tell me it’s something you gave him?”
That single remark had made Ning Ning blush furiously on the spot.
Strangely, though Pei Ji had never openly used the hairband before, he frequently tied it in his hair after returning to Xuanxu.
The first time Ning Ning noticed this change and stared intently at him, he had even turned awkwardly red at the tips of his ears.
“This is my first time at Fanyin Temple,” Ning Ning said, snapping out of her thoughts.
A small smile curved her lips as she lowered her gaze and lightly hooked her finger, brushing against Pei Ji’s pinky.
“Maybe we’ll see Mingkong and Monk Yonggui. I wonder what they’re up to.”
As she spoke, she gently curled her finger upward.
The unexpected tug, though slight and aimed only at his pinky, caused Pei Ji’s entire left hand to move.
Gradually, her soft and warm touch spread as Ning Ning’s fingers enveloped his palm one by one, completely covering it.
Pei Ji had never held hands with her in such a public place—especially not in the pure and tranquil grounds of a temple.
His left hand stiffened slightly under her grasp.
“Pei Ji,” Ning Ning’s voice came low and soft, tinged with laughter, as it echoed by his ear.
“Why didn’t you use that hairband before but suddenly decided to wear it these past few days?”
As she spoke, a stream of warm spiritual energy flowed from her palm, akin to a gentle current trickling through the lines of his hand.
It coursed through his veins and spread across his frozen body, dispelling every trace of cold.
Her hand was much smaller than his, soft and light as it pressed down—a sensation like a boneless tuft of cotton.
She continued to transfer spiritual energy slowly, fumbling slightly as she adjusted their grip, her fingertip occasionally brushing over his calluses or scars.
Amidst the warmth, a faint ticklish feeling lingered.
Pei Ji: “…”
His eyes darkened slightly as he abruptly spread his fingers to break free of her hold.
In a swift motion, he turned his hand over and clasped her entire right hand in his.
“It’s just…” He paused, feeling the warmth flow through his palm, and coughed lightly, “I suddenly felt like using it.”
Ning Ning tilted her head in curiosity.
“Oh?”
She moved a step closer to him, bringing with her a reassuring warmth.
Her gaze locked onto his eyes without wavering as she leaned in, almost whispering into his ear with a teasing laugh.
“Really?”
The black-clad young man’s composure visibly faltered for a moment.
He had faced demons in front of countless onlookers and endured the chaos of battle, his body often battered and bloodied.
Yet it was such a simple, tender gesture—one bordering on intimacy—that now left his ears burning.
Pei Ji didn’t reply immediately.
Instead, he tightened his grip on her hand and awkwardly attempted to mimic her by brushing his thumb along the back of her hand.
“And also,” he added.
They walked at the back of the Xuanxu Sword Sect’s group, where few would turn to look.
Pei Ji tentatively touched her hand, his throat moving slightly as he said, “It’s different now.”
In the past, he had never dared to hope.
He had only been able to watch her from a distance, and that hairband might have been the only thing he had ever received from her.
More importantly, given the nature of their relationship back then, using it would have felt like overstepping boundaries.
But now, things were different.
This was a gift from the girl he liked.
And she liked him back.
For the first time, Pei Ji had a thought he had never entertained before—he wanted more people to know that Ning Ning had given him the hairband.
Perhaps it was a declaration of ownership, or maybe a clumsy, youthful display of pride.
How childish.
Ning Ning chuckled softly.
At the sound, Pei Ji pressed his thumb against her palm, issuing a small, silent protest.
The group followed Tian Xianzi through the crowd and soon arrived at the central Dharma Platform of Fanyin Temple.
“The elders hosting lectures are all here at the Dharma Platform. You may explore freely and choose any session that interests you,” Tian Xianzi explained before smiling briefly.
“I, however, have a duel arranged with the temple abbot. I’ll take my leave—don’t miss me too much.”
Their master was an unabashed sword fanatic.
Wherever he went, he sought out the local experts for a match.
This often ended with both parties gravely injured.
With no money for treatment, Tian Xianzi would linger at the other sect’s expense, shamelessly freeloading for food and medicine like a parasite.
Though his intent wasn’t malicious, Ning Ning suspected this was a new kind of extortion.
Unfazed by this, she waved him off and turned her attention to the elders seated on the Dharma Platform.
These lecture sessions resembled a university club fair.
Each elder sat on a meditation cushion, with lines of glowing golden text suspended in the air beside them.
Formed from spiritual energy, the text detailed the content of their respective lectures.
“I’ve attended the Dharma Assembly once before,” said Zheng Weiqi, her expression souring as she recalled unpleasant memories.
Her features scrunched into a bitter gourd-like grimace.
“Trust me… choose carefully. If you end up with an unreliable monk, you’ll suffer.”
Ning Ning tilted her head curiously.
“Senior Sister, which lecture did you choose last time?”
Zheng Weiqi’s expression turned grim.
“Musical Appreciation.”
