teshvara has attracted devotees' offerings, enhancing the temple’s finances and maintaining daily operations.

Without such income, the temple couldn’t function. This also gives the parents a reason to interact with the sect respectfully. The world doesn’t follow a strict hierarchical system—they only respect wealth and power, and here only the poorest farmers send their children to the Chaoyang Sect. Wealthier families prefer the prestigious central sects or even the smaller, yet still more reputable, local ones.

Farmers wish to offer donations, but doing so directly felt awkward. With Avalokiteshvara, these interactions became less cumbersome.

People have emotions and desires, and they seek divine intervention. In these moments, class distinctions blur. Before a deity, they seek earnestly, shedding their worldly concerns and praying for blessings.

“Gouzi, are you visiting your house this time?”

“Sure, my parents haven’t seen us for a while, Zhir, come too.”

“My parents promised to make something delicious for me. If you can, visit my house as well.”

“Great idea! Haha!”

Since Tao Ci was adopted and had no family to visit, he would accompany Li Zhir and Wang Gouzi, alternating between their homes for company.

Initially, Elder Li was hesitant, worrying that young Tao’s exuberance might be a burden. However, unknown to them, Tao Ci, who had lived 27 years in his previous life and 11 years in this one, had become a master of flattery.

He’d bring game meat to each family before visits, charm their elders with compliments, behaving so endearingly that the family elders grew fond of him, permitting him to stay over. The two families, bonded by the children's friendship, grew close over time, becoming almost like one big family.

Parents delighted in seeing their children enjoy each other’s company, and even their casual mischief brought joy.

"Master, I’m heading out."

"Remember your manners; don’t forget what I’ve taught you!"

"Of course not," Tao Ci laughed, shaking the wild rabbit in his hand. Elder Li smiled wryly. Tao Ci, normally composed, would become lively on homecoming days, restoring his childhood innocence. Elder Li had once thought Tao Ci inherently aloof, but seeing his joyful demeanor brought forth a sense of pity—children should act like children, their laughter as genuine as it is wholesome.

The three of them rode a hay-covered cart down the mountain.

The gentle breeze lifted smiles on their faces as they played, bickering over the serene countryside sights. Gouzi’s father, seated at the front, turned back to see them, his wrinkled face beaming with love. He turned forward and sang a rough melody, a familiar sound to the children.

Their laughter intertwined with his song and the cart’s rattles, carrying them ten miles down th

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