"Miss..." John Harris called out but then fell silent, feeling deeply troubled.

"Besides, though senior brother has neither power nor influence, I just keep thinking about him, longing for him. I am willing to bear him a son. Senior brother may not be able to restore the temple to its former glory, but at least his descendants might..." At this point, Alice Bennett looked lost and bewildered, yet she smiled, her tone calm and steady.

"Mr. Harris, please don't try to persuade me anymore. In a few days, take my fine gold bracelet and pawn or sell it—it should fetch over a hundred taels of silver. Use it as a bribe and see if we can get through this. If it really doesn't work, I'll give up the ancestral property of the temple and follow senior brother to another place. There will always be a way to survive."

John Harris stomped his foot and sighed, saying, "You're too stubborn... This is your ancestral property and dowry. Sigh, since you've made up your mind like this, what else can I say..."

Edward Clark had been quietly listening to the conversation, secretly sighing in his heart: "Edward Clark, what virtue or ability do you have to deserve such a junior sister?"

Edward Clark did not listen any further, quietly walking away, sifting through his memories.

The more he recalled, the deeper his frown became.

At its peak, Dayan Temple owned a hundred mu of land, but after repeated hardships, the land was sold off. Now, only seven and a half mu remained—truly impoverished. If not for some remaining assets in the temple, they would be utterly destitute.

Lord Wei was the governor of the prefecture; his orders were hard to defy. Even if they fled elsewhere, it would likely be difficult to survive.

The kindness of a master is profound, and the affection of a beauty is even deeper. Could he really abandon the ancestral property or sell his junior sister's dowry to get through this crisis?

But now it was already the twentieth of August, with only thirty-eight days left until the twenty-eighth of September. How could they get through this ordeal?

Edward Clark was not panicked, but he still frowned.

By now, dusk had fallen. In the courtyard stood a large tree, its branches and leaves blocking out the last rays of sunset.

He entered a room. Through the papered window, the light was dim and tranquil. Edward Clark's expression was somewhat gloomy as he glanced around. It was a small room, with a wooden couch taking up half the space in front of a small barred window.

There was also a bookshelf on the wall, holding a single scroll of Daoist scripture.

In this era, books were extremely expensive. This one was a relic from years past. When Charles Bennett was alive, he had urged Edward Clark to study, but now only this one scroll remained.

Even to be a Daoist priest, one had to master seven scriptures. Only then might the Daoist examiner take notice and grant a Daoist register, allowing one to preside over the temple and conduct rituals.

Looking at these things, Edward Clark had a flash of inspiration, but felt it was of no immediate help. After a moment's thought, he made up his mind. With a flip of his hand, he called out, "Come forth!"

A flash of black light, and a tortoiseshell appeared in his hand.

Seeing the tortoiseshell, Edward Clark was not surprised. It was this shell that carried his soul, traversing countless dark times and spaces to arrive here. After so many years, they were inseparable.

He placed the tortoiseshell on the table, found a small knife, hesitated for a moment, then with a "chi" sound, cut his own arm. Blood immediately gushed out.

The wound had only just healed, and now with this fresh cut, his vision went black for a moment. But he gritted his teeth and endured, not fainting. Not daring to delay, he wiped his wounded arm with his hand, smearing a large amount of fresh blood evenly over the black tortoiseshell.

After finishing, his vision darkened again. He pressed his hand to the wound, and before long, the bleeding stopped. In his previous life, he had studied medicine and was extremely precise in handling veins and acupoints—he bled but did not injure muscle or bone.

Pressing the wound, he stared at the tortoiseshell, silently reciting what he wished to divine.

The tortoiseshell, stained with blood, began to hum, absorbing all the blood. After a moment, black and white vapors appeared.

Edward Clark stared at it and was suddenly shocked.

He saw that the black color covered almost everything, with only a few specks of white.

The tortoiseshell, transformed from a fragment of the Wheel of Reincarnation, was extremely mystical and could foretell fortune and misfortune. Black signified calamity, white signified good fortune, and a mix of black and white meant a blend of both.

The shell before him indicated that this journey would be extremely perilous, almost certain death. Though Edward Clark was prepared, his heart still sank at the sight.

As the blood faded, the tortoiseshell turned into a streak of black light and entered his brow.

After a long silence, his panicked heart gradually calmed. Edward Clark left the room and stood in the courtyard, looking up.

Night had fallen, and he paced back and forth, carefully recalling his past and present lives. He pondered in his heart: he still had a chance to return to the mortal world. Since he had come back, how could he resign himself to mediocrity?

His junior sister's kindness was deep—how could he run away?

No matter how difficult things became, as long as it wasn't truly certain death, there was still hope.

Edward Clark pondered silently. This body was not without its advantages. Charles Bennett, bound by sect rules, could not teach Daoist arts, but had passed on martial arts and swordsmanship, as well as a basic internal cultivation method permitted by the sect.

However, the original owner of this body was a villager, and when Charles Bennett took him as a disciple, he was already old. By the time the body was trained, Charles Bennett had passed away. The original owner, limited by his knowledge, could not understand the internal cultivation method, but Edward Clark in his previous life was well-read and knowledgeable, having studied many Daoist texts. He was very familiar with this, and though the world was different, his understanding remained.

At this moment, the moon was hidden, and only cold stars dotted the sky, shining over the vast earth. Edward Clark carefully sensed his body. There was still some foundation, but he was somewhat malnourished. Though there was a faint internal breath, it was difficult to make much use of it.