"Benefactor, you must be puzzled: why is it that the fields along the way are bountiful, but here, everyone wears the face of a hungry ghost?"
After the illusion dissipated, before the incense of Maitreya Buddha, the old abbot revealed his true face—skin clinging to bones, sagging downward. He was so emaciated he resembled a walking fleshly Buddha.
Chen Yi's hand remained on the hilt of his sword.
Seeing this, Yin Tingxue quickly tugged at his sleeve and whispered softly:
"He means no harm; I can hear it."
Hearing this, Chen Yi looked around. Several abbots wore guilty expressions, especially the one who had accidentally let some saliva dribble; he was chanting scriptures non-stop in embarrassment.
"What's going on?"
Chen Yi finally asked.
"Namo Future Maitreya Buddha. Benefactor, you may not know—this is the Ghost Path, one of the three evil paths."
The old abbot spoke with reverence,
