“There weren’t any relics at first, but because of John Adams’s reminder, in the end, we really did produce seven-colored relics. Yet, no matter what, I just can’t feel happy about it…”

As Samuel Carter spoke, he recounted the explanation John Adams had given about the origin of relics.

Originally, this matter concerned the reputation of the Buddhist community, so he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. But now he needed David Foster’s help to clear up his doubts, so he could only tell the truth. Besides, he believed David Foster understood the gravity of the situation and definitely wouldn’t spread it around.

After listening carefully, David Foster fell silent in thought. After a long while, he finally asked Samuel Carter, “Do you believe what the heir said?”

“Half-believe, half-doubt. But it’s not hard to verify. I’ve already ordered people to burn some cattle and sheep bones, and we’ll have the results soon.”

As soon as Samuel Carter finished speaking, the people he had sent out earlier hurried in, whispered a few words in his ear, and handed over an iron box with both hands.

Samuel Carter sat there in dejection after hearing the news, and after a long while, he forced a bitter smile at David Foster and said, “The results are in—right here in this box!”

From Samuel Carter’s expression, David Foster had already guessed the answer, but he still took the iron box and gently opened it, only to see a layer of dazzling, multicolored relics inside.

David Foster reached out and touched the relics, finding that they were still warm. Finally, he suddenly looked up and said, “I want to meet this heir in person!”

Chapter 6: Do People with Long Faces Live Longer?

After being settled in the side room behind the meditation hall, John Adams didn’t sleep well that night. Mainly, he was picky about beds—he had just gotten used to the one at the prince’s residence, and now he had to adjust all over again.

He tossed and turned until midnight before finally dozing off. When he woke up in the morning, his mind was still a bit groggy. Only after a quick wash did he feel a little better.

“Knock, knock, knock~”

Someone knocked on the door outside. John Adams opened it to find a young monk standing there with a food box in hand.

“Breakfast is ready. The master asked me to tell you to come see him after you’ve eaten.”

The young monk bowed to John Adams. His name was Helen, and he was usually responsible for taking care of Samuel Carter’s daily needs. He was also the one who arranged John Adams’s lodging yesterday.

“Thank you!”

John Adams yawned and invited him in.

Helen took out the food from the box. Breakfast was simple: a bowl of thick porridge, a plate of greens, and a plate of tofu.

“This again?”

Seeing the oil-free breakfast, John Adams couldn’t help but frown. He remembered having the same thing last night.

“The master specifically instructed that your three meals should follow his standards. So whatever he eats, you eat.”

Helen replied with a wry smile.

“You guys feed the master this? No wonder he’s so skinny!”

John Adams grumbled in dissatisfaction. These past few days at the prince’s residence, he’d been feasting on delicacies every day, with eight beautiful maids serving him at every meal. He didn’t have to lift a finger—just open his mouth. In fact, if he wanted, he didn’t even need to move his mouth himself.

Of course, as a successor of socialism with ideals, culture, morals, and discipline, John Adams most despised this kind of decadent, feudal aristocratic lifestyle.

Still, to defeat the enemy, you must first understand them. So John Adams decided to experience it deeply with a critical mindset. That way, if he ever traveled back in his next life, he could expose the ugly face of the feudal aristocracy to the world even more thoroughly.

…………

In the meditation hall, Samuel Carter lifted the boiling water from the stove and poured it into a teacup. The tea leaves in the cup slowly unfurled in the hot water, and the rising steam carried a faint fragrance of tea.

Across the tea table, David Foster sat with his head bowed in thought. He had wanted to meet John Adams yesterday, but it was too late, so he stayed the night here.

“Master, the more I think about it, the more puzzled I am. Since the heir supposedly has soul-loss syndrome, how did he know that relics are produced by burning at high temperatures?”

Suddenly, David Foster looked up at Samuel Carter and asked.

“I can’t figure it out either. Besides, I’ve noticed his personality has changed drastically. If it weren’t for that same long face, I’d almost suspect he was a different person.”

Samuel Carter shook his head.

“That’s strange. Could he really be possessed?”

David Foster stroked his beard and muttered in confusion.

“I thought it over carefully last night and realized that whether he’s possessed or not doesn’t really matter. What matters is, after John Adams’s drastic change in temperament, what impact will it have on the current situation?”

Samuel Carter handed a cup of tea to David Foster, then took a sip from his own.

“The heir of the Prince of Han does have a special status, and the prince dotes on him. But he’s only fifteen. No matter how much he changes, I doubt he’ll have much impact on the situation.”

After thinking for a moment, David Foster finally replied.

“The former heir was just a good-for-nothing playboy, not worth mentioning. But now, he’s clever, discerning, and learned—honestly, I feel he’s no less than the Sacred Grandson!”

By the end, Samuel Carter’s expression had grown grave.

The so-called “Sacred Grandson” refers to Zhu Zhanji, son of Crown Prince Zhu Gaochi, who would later become the Xuande Emperor of the Ming dynasty.