Chapter 5: Gossip, Exile, and the Path Forward

"Did you hear? The Black Madonna somehow got a monk staff and actually killed a Violet Sky Sect Violet Peak Adept on the spot—even the spirit didn’t escape."

"Yeah, it’s terrifying. I heard the Buddhist sect in the Central Continent was alarmed, and a great cultivator who had been in seclusion for years was disturbed."

"What? A great cultivator—isn’t that a perfected Soul Manifestation? The Black Madonna can’t escape this time."

News traveled in whispers and digital posts alike, but it all hit the grapevine the same way. You could almost picture a group of kids around a backyard fire pit, trying to one-up each other with the latest urban legend. And just like that, the story got bigger with every retelling.

"Amen. Sister Song, why take this path? That monk staff is a Buddhist treasure. I’m only taking it back to place it in the main hall of Grace Temple."

On the peak of the Western Badlands, where Ethan once stood, now dozens gathered, each exuding a Soul Manifestation aura.

"Old monk, we’ve known each other for nearly two thousand years. Neither of us has much time left. Why come out of seclusion for the sake of the juniors? Wouldn’t it be better to live quietly for another hundred years?"

The kindly old monk’s eyes were calm. He put his hands together, pondered a moment, then sighed. "Sometimes, some things are beyond our control. If I don’t come, the monk staff falling into others’ hands will only increase karma."

The sword-carrying old man opposite laughed: "Yeah, better in our hands than in others’."

The crowd was like a gathering of retired professors at a college reunion—old rivalries, shared regrets, and the sense that the world was changing too fast for comfort. The old monk’s words hung in the air, heavier than the morning fog that crept across those ancient hills.

Meanwhile, after exchanging the monk staff for the rattle drum, Ethan vanished. The Black Madonna knelt for another three or four hours, only rising after sensing no immortal presence.

She was filled with the joy of surviving disaster, calmed herself, took three steps to the monk staff, looking at the intricate, luxurious staff with delight. This staff was at least a magical treasure. Magical tools are for Energy Drawing and Foundation; spiritual tools for Violet Peak and Golden Core; only Soul Manifestation cultivators can wield magical treasures. But the monk staff given by the immortal—she could use it at late Foundation without any problem. Could it be the legendary rankless type? Whoa. The Black Madonna gasped.

She’d seen trinkets and talismans sold out of old suitcases at crossroads markets, but this was something else—like finding a pristine Fender Strat in a thrift store, not knowing its real worth until the first chord rang out. She traced the carvings, half-afraid, half-thrilled. Sometimes, even the smallest kindness can change the course of a life.