Zhang Qingyue took the bead. "I understand."

Puzhao stroked his head. "You and I share such a karmic bond; who knows whether we shall meet again in the next life? Child, kneel down and knock your head three times before me, and call me Master."

Zhang Qingyue looked at Puzhao, and saw that he had put away his smile, his face solemn. He nodded and said yes, called out "Master," then knelt on the ground and knocked his head three times, hard. He had barely finished, and had not yet raised his head, when he heard Puzhao give a low laugh—but in that laugh there was much bitterness and a resolute finality.

Zhang Qingyue was about to raise his head to look at him when he suddenly felt a slap on his back. At once his vision went black, and he knew nothing more.