บท 1352: 639 Wascamar_1

From the moment of her birth, she was abandoned by her ruthless parents at the entrance of the Buddhist Nunnery, where she was raised and nurtured by the master.

Although her master was kind, he was a man who embraced silence and solitude, indifferent to worldly affairs, dedicating his heart to spiritual cultivation.

When she was still at an age where she didn't even know how to spell the word 'loneliness', she had already tasted the bitterness it brings.

The years in the mountains were harsh, and at the tender age of four, she would sit, stroking her tiny cheeks, pondering how to survive the cold winter.

On one such snowy night, someone knocked on the nunnery's door.

Opening the door, she found a wrinkled baby swaddled in cloth.

She could never forget the baby's radiant, jet-black eyes, beaming with a light so brilliant no jewel could detract from it. Those eyes reminded her of the majestic Buddha statue in the grand hall of the nunnery.