The Soldier King Becomes a Useless Little Girl

Chapter 1286: Chapter 1280

Feng Xi was speechless for a moment, his eyebrows slightly furrowing.

"How do you know that there’s no ghost haunting Zhou Yuanwai’s house?"

Of course, I know. You must understand, my relationship with the Corpse King is quite something.

He mentioned that there were hardly any ghosts in Purple Cloud City.

Anyway, there’s definitely none at Zhou Yuanwai’s house.

Xin Lin murmured quietly in her mind.

But she said aloud.

"I obviously knew it. Your ’Zen’ character is written so gently, without any hint of ferocity. It’s hardly suitable for a house charm. Besides, if it truly needed to be a house charm, surely one would seek out a high monk from Taichang Temple. You’re just a little monk doing odd jobs, how could your writing be of any use?"

Xin Lin pouted.

Feng Xi smiled wryly, realizing that Xin Lin underestimated him.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say that he was actually the Minister of Imperial Sacrificial Worship.

But before he could, Xin Lin unfolded another piece of paper.

"But once you’ve promised someone, one should be true to their word. I know Landlord Zhou; from my time at Taoyao Pavilion, I know he’s famously difficult and as picky as a turtle. If this matter isn’t handled well, he’ll complain to the Minister of Imperial Sacrificial Worship, and then you’ll have to pack up and leave. So I’ve written this character for you."

"Hold on, Master Xin."

Feng Xi coughed lightly a couple of times.

"What? Do you look down on my handwriting?"

Xin Lin pouted.

"It’s not that, it’s just..."

Feng Xi fiddled with the strand of seven-colored Buddhist beads in his hand, trying to come up with a reason that wouldn’t offend Xin Lin and would dissuade her from writing.

Words from Taichang Temple, in the eyes of ordinary people, are as valuable as treasures, brought home like prized possessions.

Not just anyone can write them and expect them to hold up.

"What is it then? Feng Xi, you must look down on me. Let’s make a bet. If my writing is better than yours, you have to promise me one thing. If my writing is not as good as yours, I’ll treat every monk in Taichang Temple to Ultimate Lingxiu Buns for a lifetime. How about that?"

Xin Lin waved her hand, looking pained.

One Spiritual Delicacy Bun is one tael; the hundred or so monks at Taichang Temple, that’s over a hundred a day, tens of thousands a year—no small amount.

Luckily, Xin Lin was financially well-off at the moment, so she could say this without blinking an eye.

Seeing Xin Lin’s pained yet unwilling expression, Feng Xi couldn’t help but smile.

"No need for a lifetime, just three years will do."

"That’s settled then."

With that, Xin Lin lifted her brush and began writing.

Feng Xi didn’t watch closely; he calmly ate buns and drank tea.

Feng Xi’s handwriting was unparalleled in Taichang Holy Institute.

Even Emperor Longteng had praised Feng Xi’s writing as incomparable across the Eastern Continent.

Considering Xin Lin’s young age, her disdain for Feng Xi’s script amused him.

After a while, Xin Lin put down her brush.

"Feng Xi, evaluate this."

"That’s the ’Qian’ character."

Feng Xi’s expression changed upon seeing the character.

"Yes, it’s the ’money’ character. Zhou Yuanwai runs a bank, and to him, money is the most reliable thing. He’s been anxious recently because of financial troubles in several towns. For someone like him, ’money’ is far more practical than ’Zen’. Of course, we’re not just talking about the content of the characters; we’re talking about magic. How do you think this looks?"

Xin Lin’s big eyes twirled, glancing at Feng Xi.

Feng Xi gazed at the character intently.

Xin Lin’s writing didn’t match her age at all.

It was a cursive ’money’ character, uniquely her own, exuding both simplicity and profundity, with a dash of grandeur. What was most remarkable was the seamless blending of two different styles.