I hadn't even finished my cigarette when a busted old bell smashed me into the primordial world, turning me into an Innate Gourd Vine at the foot of Buzhou Mountain. Seven gourds hung from me, and I hadn't even taken human form yet when news of Hongjun's lectures seeped through my leaves. I was fretting over how to get a front-row seat when the rusty bell in my sea of consciousness suddenly dragged me upstream through the River of Time. Sword flashes and axe shadows erupted in a blinding wash of white, and a voice buzzed against the bell's walls: “Don't open your eyes.”
