The Lanruo Temple blazes with grand flames, while the Yitian Monastery stands in desolate ruin.

“Master, you left so decisively, but please don’t leave the heavy task of reviving this temple to me.”
Standing before the old priest’s grave, Yi Fan sighed. He picked up the half bottle of aged wine, poured a little out carefully, then promptly closed it again.
He couldn’t be blamed for his stinginess; the entire temple was so destitute that only an old master and he remained, barely able to feed themselves. This bottle of wine had been left behind last year by a group of scholars on an outing, and he’d never had the heart to drink it.
Who could have guessed that after being set aside, it would become a parting gift between the worlds of the living and the dead? The old priest hadn’t enjoyed much in life, and even in death could only take this half bottle with him.
On the way back, a light rain began to fall. Following the muddy path, Yi Fan soon came to a wooden sign that read “Rear Mountain of Lanruo Temple.” He looked ahead with a complex expression. Between the interlacing trees, the outline of a vast temple gradually emerged.
The mountain was not high, but that temple was the famed Lanruo Temple, celebrated throughout Jiangsu and Zhejiang. Its incense flourished, a thousand monks resided there, and countless pilgrims came daily to pay their respects.
Having lived in this world for two or three years, Yi Fan still could not figure out exactly where he was. Many places were the same as in his previous life, but he recognized none of the dynasties.
The only thing familiar was that temple—Lanruo Temple, known in his previous life through films and stories.
At this time, Lanruo Temple had not yet been taken over by demons; on the contrary, it was at the peak of its glory, home to countless eminent monks. Even the boldest ghosts and monsters dared not provoke it.
“It’s a pity I’m not a monk…”
Yi Fan touched his hair, secretly glad he was not. As far as he knew, monks of this era, once ordained, must abstain from wine, meat, and women—a truly austere existence.
He continued along the path, turned a bend, and soon reached another fork. Amidst the weeds, a barely visible trail led to his own temple at the end.
A grand Buddhist temple in front of the mountain, a dilapidated Taoist temple behind—anyone would find it incredible, and no one knew who had claimed the land first. In any case, they had coexisted peacefully for years.
The temple was rundown. Outside hung a wooden plaque reading “Reliant Heaven Temple.” Inside were only three or four rooms—one a shrine to the Three Pure Ones, the rest living quarters for himself and the old master. Now that the old priest was gone, the place felt even emptier.
“Reliant Heaven Temple—looks like I really have to rely on fate. May the Three Pure Ones watch over themselves; as for me, I’m heading down the mountain to find a way to live.”
Yi Fan packed up his belongings, preparing to leave that very night. He simply couldn’t stay any longer; the only things left in the temple were a few rotten cabbages and some old rice.
When the old priest was alive, he could still rely on his seniority to beg for alms in the villages below, bringing back enough food for them to barely get by—two sparse meals a day, thin soup and watery porridge, but at least they didn’t starve.
Now, without the old priest’s air of dignity, Yi Fan couldn’t fool the villagers’ wives below. He had no choice but to leave the mountain.
As for reviving the temple? He’d think about that once he could fill his stomach.
After paying his respects to the Three Pure Ones, he closed the doors behind him and gave the dilapidated temple one last look. Though he’d only been here two or three years, it was the only home he had in this world.
With a sigh, he set down his bundle, straightened his robes, and knelt before the temple, bowing his head to the ground several times, sorrow welling silently within him.
Suddenly, a thunderous crack split the sky. A bolt of lightning struck the temple’s signboard, and before Yi Fan could react, the falling plaque crashed down on him.
…

A faint voice called to him as his body was shaken. Yi Fan’s eyes snapped open to see a man with bulging, fish-like eyes crouching before him.
“Damn, are you a ghost?”
Fish-Eyes rolled his eyes, snapped open his folding fan, and stood up. “Have you ever seen a ghost this handsome?”
…
Right, ghosts weren’t this shameless. That meant he wasn’t dead. Yi Fan only remembered being struck by the signboard, then lost consciousness.
“Hey, little priest, where’s the old master?”
Fish-Eyes, seeing Yi Fan silent, impatiently snapped his fan shut.
Only then did Yi Fan get a good look at him—a notorious playboy from Guobei County, infamous among women. Yi Fan immediately guessed his purpose, and sure enough, behind Fish-Eyes stood a seductive woman. Seeing Yi Fan look her way, she didn’t blush, but held his gaze boldly.
“Stop staring, just open the door. I can’t wait any longer. When I’m done, if you like, you can have your turn.”
Fish-Eyes fanned himself anxiously.
Yi Fan gave a helpless smile, then opened the door. Fish-Eyes hurriedly dragged the alluring woman inside one of the rooms, and soon high, melodious cries echoed out.
“Looks like Heaven doesn’t want me to leave so easily after all.”
Fish-Eyes was a regular here. Strictly watched at home and unable to indulge in the city, he used the excuse of visiting Lanruo Temple to sneak women into the Taoist temple for trysts.
The old master had never been a stickler for rules. To earn a bit more money, he’d turned a blind eye, tacitly allowing the arrangement.
Though the old priest was gone, Yi Fan still had to survive, didn’t he? Before the Three Pure Ones, he saw and heard nothing.
Settling his mood, Yi Fan went to the shrine and sat cross-legged before the Three Pure Ones, closing his eyes. Almost immediately, a stream of data flickered in his mind.
He’d found this thing in his mind when he woke—a system, like those in games from his previous life, but much simpler, with only a few elements:
“Immortal Taoist System”
“Host: Yi Fan”
“Spell: Minor Demon-Banishing Talisman (Unranked)”
“Realm: Clear Heart Sutra (Not initiated)”
“Refinement: None”
“System Message: Host is so weak, I don’t even feel like encouraging you.”

Yi Fan: …

As he was lost in thought, the door to the outer room opened and Fish-Eyes, looking very satisfied, came out and sat down on a prayer mat, giving Yi Fan a sidelong glance.
As quick as ever, Yi Fan thought to himself.
“Little priest, where’s the old master?”
“He’s dead. Just buried behind the mountain—still fresh. If you bring a new jug of wine to honor him, he’d be delighted.”
Fish-Eyes paused, then, after a moment’s silence, took a silver ingot—about three taels—from his purse and tossed it to Yi Fan. “The old priest was a good man. Buy plenty of incense and candles, and some paper servants and maids, so he doesn’t suffer in the afterlife.”
Yi Fan was surprised. Three taels was a lot—enough to support an average family for two months. This wasn’t typical of Fish-Eyes.
“You’ve grown a conscience—thanks.”
Just what he needed, too; he’d been worrying about having nothing to eat.
Fish-Eyes snorted. “Actually, I came to ask the old priest a favor, but since he’s dead, never mind.”
He made to leave, while the alluring woman, now tidied up, waited by the door, not coming in.
“Wait, tell me what it was. Maybe I can help.”
Fish-Eyes hesitated. “My cousin seems to have been haunted by a female ghost. I can’t make a fuss about it, and among all the priests and monks I know, only you and the old master could keep a secret.”
He glanced at Yi Fan. “If you can handle it, come with me now—it’s best not to delay.”
Yi Fan was startled. He knew this world had fox spirits and ghosts; there was even a fierce ghost suppressed in his own temple’s secret chamber. But he’d never seen one, let alone dealt with such matters.
After a moment’s thought, he gritted his teeth. “I can give it a try, but I can’t guarantee success. If there’s danger, I’ll leave at once.”
“Fine. If it works, I’ll pay you five taels of silver. If not, you get nothing.”
“No, ten taels.”
“Deal, but you must keep it a secret.”
Yi Fan instantly regretted it—he should have asked for more.