The gu pointed toward a location deep within Ma Mountain. Tanshan knew full well that whoever was raising the gu wouldn’t still be waiting there with tea to welcome them. But things had come to this point. Even knowing the danger, they had to go and investigate.
“Yonglan, be careful.”
“I’m not the one with injuries. You take care of yourself first.”
The mountain slopes weren’t steep, yet there were no clear paths. Pushing through thickets and scrambling over rocks, they finally found a cave halfway up.
Advancing cautiously into the cavern, they detected no traps, only an ordinary entrance and a stone door. A faint glow of candlelight seeped through the bottom of the door.
The Marquis of Wanjiang purposefully shielded the monk behind him, pushing open the door first. Inside, an old monk sat cross-legged on a prayer mat in the centre of the stone chamber, seemingly engaged in meditation with eyes lowered.
“…Xia Chunqiu?” The Marquis of Wanjiang already had his sword drawn. As he spoke, his wrist flickered lightly. Though the long blade appeared merely held horizontally across his chest, every inch of his body was shielded with tightly guarded alertness.
“You know this name,” the old monk lifted his eyes, his tone surprisingly gentle—not directed at Bian Yonglan, but at Tanshan. “Shixiong[1]… Ah, so your shifu has mention me to you.”
“…………” Tanshan offered no reply, merely stepping forward to shield the Marquis of Wanjiang behind him. He warned, “Be careful. It is not human.”
“The scenes within that corpse barrier are invisible to ordinary folk, but this old monk can see them clearly,” the old monk said, seemingly unconcerned that Tanshan had exposed the illusion of his form. He cut straight to the point, acknowledging the grievances of Mashan Town. “At first glance, you bore some resemblance to your shifu. But upon closer inspection, you don’t resemble him at all.”
“You are no longer one of the Buddhist sect.” Tanshan finally acknowledged him with a proper look. In the instant those words left his lips, his hands had already flipped to form a seal. Suddenly, a golden Buddha statue descended from the heavens. The statue was not a physical object, but a human-sized apparition that settled securely over Bian Yonglan’s form.
“Inside and outside the threshold, it’s but a single thought away,” the old monk remained seated, unmoving, yet a smile spread across his face. With that smile, he praised, “Ah, the Dharma Body of Vajra Bodhisattva… To wield this protective technique with such ease—my shixiong took on a fine disciple.”
“…………”
“I, your shizhi[2], am concerned, and that person fears you,” Tanshan cut short the old monk’s nonsense, yet the monk persisted. “Gongzi[3], this monk observes your destiny. It is one of rare fortune and auspiciousness.”
“You’re not even human, old man. Stop pretending to be one and chatting about kinship,” the Marquis of Wanjiang didn’t bother asking who ‘that person’ referred to. He only sneered coldly, his words cutting like a knife. “Is the seal in your hands? Give me the seal or pay with your life. You needn’t choose, for neither path will let you escape…”
“Then let us test it—gongzi, you first.” The old monk sighed softly, his form suddenly exploding outward. Indeed, he was no living being, but an illusory body composed of countless gu.
The gu swirled like clouds and surged like tides, yet they did not charge at the two. Instead, they roared upward, coalescing mid-air within the stone chamber into a Buddhist swastika[4].
“After thirty years in this world, only upon reaching the age of sixty did I see clearly: true purity lies before the Buddha,” came a chuckle from within the cloud of gu. “What I have witnessed, I shall let you see too.” Yet that single word ‘you,’ spoken with a smile, seemed to imply something else entirely. “Once you’ve seen it, remember to send me a dream…”
The swastika pattern spun rapidly, its voice shifting from calm to urgent: “Tell me, this human world you protect…” The pattern shattered with a thunderous crash, leaving three words echoing like a clap of thunder, not a demon’s howl, but a Buddha’s roar: “—is it worthy?!”
Facing the swarming gu, Tanshan’s right palm erupted with golden light. A Buddha’s staff materialized from thin air, as sharp as a spear or halberd. Pointing like a spear, it sliced through the swarm like a spear cleaving an army or a halberd parting the sea, splitting the gu tide overhead with a thunderous bang! His left hand reached behind him, but grasped only emptiness.
In that stone chamber, he suddenly found himself utterly alone.
Bian Yonglan witnessed the sea of flames.
“Fire! Fire at the He residence! It’s burning fiercely!”
He watched a man in dishevelled unlined clothes rush past, as if roused from sleep in the dead of night, hastily throwing on clothes to rush to the spectacle of a fire.
“Husband, keep your voice down. What is the point of shouting like this?”
Following the man was a middle-aged woman, neatly dressed but with dishevelled hair at her temples. One hand held her bun, the other tugging at her husband.
“Pfft, like you’ve never cursed his ancestors before,” the man snorted at his wife, then lowered his voice. “This is karma.”
“He shortchanges customers in business, and I can’t even curse him a little?” the middle-aged woman muttered back at her husband. “Daring to sell a half a dou[5] of rice as a full dou… Fine, I’ll accumulate some virtues and not say anything.”
“No, no! We gave you the full measure! Please, help me…”
Bian Yonglan glanced again, only to see a young woman clutching the middle-aged couple’s arms, tears welling in her eyes as she sobbed and pleaded. But she couldn’t hold them—her fingers passed right through their arms, touching nothing, unable to pull them back.
The middle-aged couple couldn’t see the young woman, nor did they seem to notice Bian Yonglan at all. They stood far from the fire, whispering carelessly to each other.
“Not only short-changing customers, but they dared to mix in sand too,” one neighbour overheard the low murmur and remarked, “I think your husband was right, this is karma.”
“No, Auntie, my husband already fired the worker who secretly mixed in sand. It’s not his fault, it’s not karma…” The young woman wailed, “That vicious person started the fire! Please save me!”
“This fire is terrible. I wonder if the He family escaped.” A young man in a single-layer coat and trousers rolled up his sleeves, looking around for a basin. “We can’t just watch it burn. We have to find a way to help.”
“It’s already burned this badly; how can we save it?” The sturdy young man hadn’t even moved before his wife pulled him back. “Rescue must wait until the official’s arrival. What are you trying to prove?”
“There’s no time! We can’t wait!” The young woman clung to a sliver of hope. Though she couldn’t hold him back, she kept pleading desperately, “Put out the fire first! Please, put out the fire first!”
“At least the He family is wealthy. Their courtyard walls are built much higher than others,” remarked an elder who had ink in his belly[6]. “These stone walls can contain the fire. The He estate is large and doesn’t border any neighbours, so it won’t spread to others… But the He family is finished this time.”
“Who knows if this fire was an accident… or a man-made disaster,” murmured another old man standing beside him, clearly acquainted with the first. “Wealthy folk always attract envy. Ai, what a tragedy…”
“Yes, money!” The young woman wept until her eyes ran red, as if they might bleed. Hearing this, she frantically reached out to grab their arms, but it was futile. “I have money! I’ll give you all my money! Please save him…
“…………”
“Didn’t that He family lad go out to trade?” The old man suddenly recalled something upon hearing mention of money and business. “He’s been married less than a year, and now this tragedy strikes his family. How pitiful.”
“I… I’m carrying his child! Even if we’ve done wrong, the child hasn’t! He’s only four months along! Please save him!” The young woman wore only a thin robe, her chest nearly exposed. Though Bian Yonglan hadn’t been staring intently, her words made him look closer. Sure enough, the woman’s belly was slightly rounded. She was pregnant.
“The old matriarch of the He family was devout. They say she ate vegetarian meals and chanted sutras daily, praying for her son’s safe travels. Alas… Ai, what good did it do…”
A kind-hearted neighbourly auntie, her heart softened, began to weep before she could finish her sentence.
“Save my child, save my mother, save us, save us…”
The young woman’s cries for help gradually grew weaker. Perhaps realising it was all in vain, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground.
“Help me…”
She kowtowed once.
“Help me…”
She kowtowed again.
“Help me…”
Tears had dried on her face. Her words seemed more like a whisper to herself as she kowtowed again and again.
Bian Yonglan knew this was an illusion.
Even if it was an illusion, a phantom image, one should not act rashly.
Yet witnessing this human tragedy unfold, even knowing the illusion held deceit, he could not bear to see her kowtow her head until it bled. Finally, he stepped forward, bent down, and reached out to help her up.
This touch actually made contact—the woman couldn’t touch anyone else, yet she touched Bian Yonglan. The moment their bodies touched, both of them froze.
“You…” The woman knelt with her head bowed, uttering only a single syllable before a Buddha’s image suddenly appeared: The Vajra Arhat Dharma Body, which had vanished when Bian Yonglan entered the illusion, now abruptly materialized once more, enveloping his form in a faint aura.
The Marquis of Wanjiang reached out, and the Buddha reached out too— “…You saw everything,” the woman murmured softly, slowly raising her head. Her voice was gentle as she asked, “Tell me, did I die a miserable death?”
“…………”
Before Bian Yonglan stood no longer a woman, but a charred corpse. The face, its features unrecognizable, slowly lifted, its question directed to neither man nor Buddha: “My mother, who ate vegetarian meals and chanted sutras—did she die a miserable death?”
“…………”
The charred corpse’s clawed hands clutched tightly at Bian Yonglan’s robe hem. Its tone wasn’t particularly fierce, still soft and low as it asked: “My child who never committed any sins also die a miserable death?”
“I…”
Bian Yonglan stared at the charred corpse before him, his face showing no fear, only a look of utter speechlessness. He stammered “I” for a long moment, unable to form a coherent sentence.
If he didn’t say something now, he feared he might never open his mouth again—the charred corpse tugged at the Marquis of Wanjiang’s robe, slowly crawling up alongside him. Its hands reached for his throat, but the layer of golden Buddha’s aura made it difficult to close around it.
“…I would have saved you.”
The Marquis of Wanjiang gripped his sword hilt tightly and slowly raised his blade.
“If I was present, I would have saved you.” The shadow moved with him. As The Marquis of Wanjiang raised his blade, the Buddha’s shadow raised a monk’s ceremonial knife alongside him.
“Unfortunately…” Monk’s ceremonial knives were never sharpened for killing. Yet, as the Qiulong sword sliced through hair, a cold gleam flickered upon the monk’s blade.
“I’m sorry.”
A flash of blade light, and the charred corpse’s head rolled to the ground.
The blazing inferno that filled the eyes, the illusion of futile pleas were all were cleaved apart by that cold gleam, leaving not a trace behind.
[1] 师兄 senior student/apprentice, Mioachang is his shixiong
[2] 师侄 martial/ teacher nephew, what he is towards his shifu’s shixiong
[3] Son of a prominent household/nobility
[4] Ancient Buddhist symbol symbolising the feet, or the footprints, of the Buddha
[5] Measure for dry grain, equal to 1/10th of a jin – 50g
[6] 肚子里有墨水 Idiom for well-read/knowledgeable
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