My Nascent Soul Ran Away Again

Chapter 106: The Black Tai Sui

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

As the kitchen of Ming De Temple, the space was quite large, comprising three major rooms.

The outermost was used for cooking, equipped with a row of stoves and windows open for ventilation.

But what Hui Zhen sought, the place for storing dry food, was in the second room.

Hui Zhen glanced at his oil lamp.

Since Ming De Temple didn’t cook at night, the oil lamps were seldom used, and few paid attention to how much oil was left, rarely remembering to refill them.

The flame was dim, and seeing that the oil was nearly depleted, Hui Zhen knew he had to act quickly.

Surrounded by silence, he could hear his own heart pounding.

Lifting the curtain separating the rooms, he entered the inner kitchen and quickly spotted a basket on a table, covered with a pot lid.

Hui Zhen hurried over and lifted the lid to find several coarse grain buns, each quite large.

Despite being cold and hard from sitting out, to the famished Hui Zhen, they tasted exceptionally delicious.

After eating the dry bun, Hui Zhen fetched a ladle of water from a barrel at the other end of the room.

It was then that he inadvertently glanced towards the innermost room, used as a storeroom.

Through the curtains, he could vaguely see a large vat.

The vat was over a person’s height, deep black, heavily built, with some indistinct patterns carved on it.

Hui Zhen set down his water ladle.

In his memory, the vat had been brought in from outside.

The monks who delivered it claimed to be from Tian Chong Temple.

The name coincided with the Tian Chong Buddha, revered by all in the Eastern China Kingdom.

Unfamiliar with the cultivation world and ignorant of the Tian Chong Temple’s origins, Hui Zhen was unaware of its significance.

But the monastery’s eldest and most learned abbot was visibly excited upon meeting the monk from Tian Chong Temple, as if seeing a messenger of the true Buddha.

Especially when the messenger brought a cart, revealing the large vat to the abbot.

New to Buddhism, Hui Zhen didn’t understand its doctrines or the relationships between temples.

But, being from a merchant family, he was adept at observing people.

He noticed the abbot trembling when looking at the vat.

The vat was so heavy that even the temple’s warrior monks couldn’t move it. Eventually, the abbot sent everyone away and somehow managed to bring the

vat into the kitchen.

Some informed senior brothers revealed that the vat contained ingredients sent by Tian Chong Temple for preparing vegetarian meals at Ming De Temple.

Hui Zhen was familiar with “vegetarian meals.”

During the celebration of the Buddha’s birthday, temples throughout the Eastern China Kingdom would host vegetarian banquets for the public.

“What kind of ingredient needs such a large vat to store?”

Hui Zhen speculated:

“Could it be a vat of pickles?”

He looked at the half-eaten dry bun in his hand.

Then back at the large vat in the room.

They say foreign monks chant better sutras, so do foreign monks’ pickles taste different from local ones?

Pickles served at a vegetarian banquet for the true Buddha must have their unique qualities.

“Just a taste of pickles. Before I leave, I’ll leave some silver as compensation. If they’re good, I’ll buy some to take home for my father to try.”

With this thought, Hui Zhen picked up a spatula from the stove and walked towards the storeroom.

The black vat was taller than him, so he climbed onto a nearby table used for storing miscellaneous items, which was not very stable.

The vat was originally tied with a rope, but it had been untied, and a wooden lid was tightly covering it.

Hui Zhen then remembered that Buddha’s birthday was in three days.

“The pickles in this vat have already been eaten.”

He concluded in his mind.

However, he hadn’t seen any pickles on the dining table, suspecting that the kitchen in charge and senior brothers had eaten them secretly, fearing detection by the abbot.

He set the oil lamp aside and opened the wooden lid of the black vat.

The lid was heavy, requiring some effort from Hui Zhen.

Then he lifted the dimly lit oil lamp over the vat— Whoa, a vat full of black pickles.

But…

These pickles seemed different from those he had seen before.

Hui Zhen held the spatula, bent down, and dipped it into the vat.

A strange sensation traveled up the handle, making Hui Zhen utter a light

“huh.”

It felt like stirring a pot of jelly or dipping into pig fat in winter.

The content in the vat was sticky and cohesive; it was hard for Hui Zhen to stir.

Confused, Hui Zhen had never seen such “pickles.” He pulled the spatula out, noticing black marks left on it.

The light from the oil lamp was too dim for a clear view, so Hui Zhen lifted the spatula higher and leaned forward for a better look.

The table was cluttered, offering little space to stand.

Hui Zhen lost his balance and fell into the vat.

His skin contacted the sticky, soft substance inside the vat, wet and heavy.

Hui Zhen struggled frantically, but the contents of the vat, like living creatures, wriggled and forced their way into his mouth and nose..