By the end, even people from the streets below were crowding upstairs one after another to watch the spectacle unfold—a pregnant young woman and a monk in robes? It was obvious to anyone that this was some kind of scandalous affair. No one wanted to miss the drama.

  Some busybodies even went so far as to call their friends over. The restaurant was soon packed to bursting, with not even room to stand. A few people even tried climbing up the windows to get a better look. Eventually, even patrons from the teahouse across the street came out onto their balconies to join in the gawking.

  Shen Xiaohai had long taken advantage of the chaos to slip away unnoticed.

  The teacup had shattered on the ground from the force of the pregnant woman’s collision. Its contents spilled everywhere.

  Yuanhui closed his eyes, struggling to suppress the towering fury in his heart. But no matter how calm he tried to remain, the murderous intent surged within him, impossible to hold back. In the end, blood rushed to his head, turning his entire face beet red—even his bald scalp took on a faint flush of red.

  That Song Chuyi—she’d actually come up with such a vile scheme to humiliate him! Not only had she destroyed his iron-cd reputation for divine insight, but now she wanted to brand him, in the eyes of the world, as a licentious monk devoid of moral conduct!

  If she truly got her way, he would become a rat crossing the street, everyone crying out to strike him down. How could he ever step into the pace again to discuss Buddhist teachings with the Emperor Jianzhang? How could he possibly still dream of becoming the Prince of Commandery’s master and establishing a mentor-disciple bond to hold influence over him in the future? All of it—impossible.

  She was clearly forcing him into a dead end.

  That girl, who always seemed gentle and harmless on the surface, once she made a move, she left no room for retreat. Every strike was fatal. No, this wasn’t just trying to kill him. This was ten times more painful than death.

  He squeezed his eyes shut in anguish, only to feel a rush of heat rising from his dantian, and with that came a wave of despair. In his rage and fear, some strength finally returned to his limbs, and with all the force he could muster, he shoved the clinging woman off of him.

  The innkeeper had already rushed upstairs and stood dumbfounded at the scene before him. It took him a long moment to regain his senses, trembling as he finally blurted out, “What... what’s going on here?! What are you people doing in my establishment?!”

  His fear wasn’t without reason. According to the ws of the Great Zhou, monks involved in indecency triggered collective punishment—anyone who provided them with a location for immoral acts would also be executed.

  At this point, the innkeeper was nearly scared out of his wits, even more terrified than Master Yuanhui himself.

  The young pregnant woman just y on the floor, crying into her hands, refusing to say a word. But her silence only made things seem all the more ambiguous. The crowd around them broke into bursts of ughter and crude jeers, shouting vulgar taunts and making unspeakable comments.

  Then, the thing Yuanhui feared most happened.

  From within the crowd, someone suddenly shouted: “Isn’t that Master Yuanhui from Huangjue Temple?!”

  That one cry sent shockwaves through the onlookers. Everyone surged forward, eager for a better look. “It really is him! That’s Master Yuanhui!”

  Wasn’t he the same monk who had just predicted Sixth Miss Song’s fate and angered both the Emperor and the court? How did he end up entangled with a singing girl in a teahouse?

  Master Yuanhui’s expression remained bnk, but the veins on his neck stood out like cords, and his face turned the color of dark liver.

  The innkeeper clutched at his chest, sure he was about to pass out. His hands shook as he pointed at Yuanhui and the woman, lips trembling. Then he stumbled downstairs in a panic, yelling for someone to call the authorities.

  Call the constables, quickly! If this didn’t get dealt with, he’d not only lose his entire establishment—he might lose his life!

  He spat several times on the ground, like trying to rid himself of the bad luck, muttering curses: “Pah! What virtuous monk?! What spiritual master from beyond the world?! Just a lecherous fraud! And now he’s dragged me down with him...”

  And the worst part? Why did it have to happen in his inn? He’d never wash this scandal from his name. His heart pounded like a drum, and he finally snapped back to his senses, barking orders for his servants to drive the crowd out.

  The more people watched, the more mouths there would be to spread the tale. He still had a business to run! If others believed he provided the venue for this depravity, he could kiss his livelihood—and reputation—goodbye.

  Fortunately, the Shuntian Prefecture guards arrived swiftly. They took away both Master Yuanhui and the sobbing, speechless young woman.

  In the crowd, Shen Xiaohai stood pale-faced, drenched in cold sweat.

  So Sixth Miss Song’s pn... was this.

  She didn’t want to kill Yuanhui—she wanted to completely destroy his reputation, make it impossible for him to ever stand tall again.

  He had decred her a “lone star of camity,” and this was her revenge—ensuring he lived in a state worse than death.

  Shen Xiaohai suddenly recalled what his wife had said to him just a few days ago at the estate, tugging at his sleeve with desperation:

  “Sixth Miss Songsaid—if I hadn’t rushed into Changning Marquis’s banquet that day, she might’ve mistaken our household as allies of Yuanhui’s… My lord, if not for yourself, at least consider your parents, your children. Changning Marquis is a man who keeps his promises…”

  Back then, he had still hesitated. But now? His entire body was drenched in sweat. Even the veins on his forehead throbbed painfully.

  If he hadn’t agreed to deliver that cup of tea to Yuanhui… if he hadn’t passed along that message for Song Chuyi…What would have become of Duke Ying’s household?

  Shen Xiaohai didn’t dare think further.

  He swallowed hard, licked his dry lips, and quietly melted into the crowd, drifting dazedly out of the teahouse with the rest.

  In Great Zhou, monks were under strict regution. Though they enjoyed privileges—no taxes, no rent, stipends if they served at imperial temples—they were also bound by extremely rigid codes.

  Moral conduct, in particur, was taken very seriously. If a monk broke his vows, the punishment was often harsher than for a commoner.

  As soon as Master Yuankong received the news, he knew something was wrong. He rushed to the capital with a petition letter in hand.

  Fortunately, thanks to his position as abbot of a royal temple, as well as certain behind-the-scenes efforts, they were able to secure Yuanhui’s release.

  Besides, the woman had no real evidence—just a string of unmarked prayer beads and a sachet. After being thrown in a cell and roughed up for a night, Yuanhui was finally let out.

  But neither Yuankong nor Yuanhui felt the slightest joy at the outcome.

  Because the Song family, and Song Chuyi, had never intended to kill him or ruin him with official charges. No—they simply wanted to shatter his reputation.

  And in that, they had succeeded.

  Even though he hadn’t done anything… even though the authorities released him… it no longer mattered.

  After a scandal this spectacur, his name was ruined—utterly and completely.