Chapter 343
Chapter 343
“Are you new here? I’ve never seen you before,” asked a young preacher, curious about the unfamiliar face before him in the Cloud Church.
As far as he knew, the Master hadn’t accepted a new disciple in years. And even if a new one had come, why would he choose to shave his head right after arriving? It was rare for someone to make such a decisive choice to renounce the world so quickly.
“You’re so quiet. Are you mute?” The preacher, unable to hold his curiosity any longer, asked again.
Before the young man could respond, someone else answered for him. “I know him. He’s the idiot who spent a whole night in the rain with two other men. I can’t believe Master actually…”
“Silence! When have I ever taught you to speak like that?” A booming voice interrupted them, like thunder cracking through the air. The crowd turned to see the Father hurriedly approaching from afar.
In that split second, the previously noisy courtyard fell deathly silent, save for the soft rustle of the broom sweeping across the ground.
The Father clasped his hands, bowing in reverence before speaking with a solemn expression, “Fenwick, I urge you to leave at once. This church no longer accepts preachers, especially ones like you–young men still entangled with worldly desires. Think carefully before you act…”
His last words were not just a warning to the young man, but a lament for himself as well.
Those who had committed heinous crimes, or were burdened by heavy karmic debt, could not be accepted as disciples. These were the Master’s exact words.
Yet, the young man shook his head, placed his broom down, and knelt before the Father. “Sir, please accept me. I have renounced the world and devoted myself to Buddhism. There is no more Fenwick in this world.”
He had abandoned all the glory he had once earned and retreated into the mountains, dedicating himself to chanting sutras for Elysia’s next life, helping her accumulate merit, so that in her next life, she could live happily and healthily.
This was the only thing he could do.
“Please, accept me as your disciple.” Fenwick’s forehead hit the ground with a loud thud.
The Father stood silent, then, without a word, turned and walked away.
And from that moment, there was no more Fenwick in the world–only the monk Fenwick, sweeping the floors.
At the back of the mountain, this was Fenwick’s first time being allowed to enter this place.
The Father had specifically asked him to come, saying he needed to clean a patch of flowers.
Unfortunately, after searching the entire hillside, Fenwick couldn’t find any flowers. All he saw was bare grass.
Just as he was about to give up and leave, he suddenly noticed something strange beneath his feet–the earth beneath him was unnaturally swollen, and the color was off, like fresh soil had been turned over.
Something was wrong–clearly, this wasn’t right.
Fenwick knelt down, picking up a handful of dirt when, suddenly, he heard a scream.
The preacher stumbled back, his foot twisted, and he fell directly into the dirt. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Right beside him, a hand reached up from the soil, emerging from the earth like some kind of monster.
Then, Fenwick saw a face–a face he knew too well. No, it was the face of Fenwick from the past.
But this face had nothing to do with him now.
Fenwick steadied his breath, preparing to get up and leave quickly, but as soon as he stood, someone grabbed his ankle.
“Fenwick… How are you still alive?”
Karl’s half–buried body rose from the earth, his eyes filled with disbelief and hatred.
Fenwick had assumed Selena and the others had already dealt with the three men, but apparently, one had slipped through the cracks. Karl wasn’t
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Chapter 343
going to let him go this time.
A flash of white light cut through the air before Fenwick had a chance to react. The sharp tip of a knife sliced across his ankle, and blood sprayed, staining the earth a deep red.
“I never met the Fenwick you speak of,” Karl muttered coldly.
At first, Fenwick didn’t understand what was wrong, but as he looked down at Karl’s bloodied knife and then felt the blood seeping from his own ankle, it hit him.
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The towering figure of Fenwick collapsed with a loud thud, followed by a pained scream.
Karl sneered, pushing him aside and pulling his leg out of the dirt, disgusted. He stomped on the bloodied earth and cursed, “It’s your fault… You’ve dirtied my grave.”
Fenwick could only clench his teeth, sweat pouring down his face as he rolled back and forth on the ground in pain.
But Karl only grew angrier. “Get out of here! Don’t die on this cursed road or you’ll dirty Selena’s reincarnation path!”
With that, he kicked Fenwick down the mountain and turned away, resuming his search for a burial spot.
As Fenwick tumbled down the slope, crashing through several small trees, his body battered and bruised, he caught glimpses of a pale figure standing in front of him.
“Come with me,” the figure spoke softly. “If you leave here, you will be free. No more pain, no more guilt. You will be at peace.”
At that moment, Fenwick felt like he had returned to his old self—the proud, tortured actor, Fenwick, the man who had suffered once he knew the truth.
He hesitated. No more pain. No more guilt. Freedom. Peace…
“Will you come with me?” the figure asked again.
“Fenwick…”
The pale figure extended a hand, and just as Fenwick was about to reach out, the figure spoke his name.
It froze him in place. Was he really Fenwick?
He no longer saw himself as Fenwick. He had no attachments anymore, his soul was filled with remorse.
He had to wait for Selena, for her reincarnation, and to remind himself to keep his heart clear in his next life.
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