Raise the Red Lanterns High

With a quarter of an hour left until Hai Hour, the innkeeper knocked on their doors in advance, signaling that Yuan Zhu and the others could join the procession heading to the square on the East Side.

When they gathered at the inn entrance, a little girl even gave him a wooden Buddha statue. From the front, it looked quite normal. The local Buddha was a dignified, plump fellow, giving off the strange impression of a fusion between the God of Wealth and the God of Cookery.

But carved into the back of the wooden statue was a distorted Buddha face that seemed to be crying and smiling at once, its gaze indescribably strange. It carried the distinct flavor of a curse. Just holding the thing in his palm, with it facing his chest, filled him with instinctive discomfort.

But if he turned the Buddha upside down, facing himself while turning its back on all living beings, it still felt wrong—and would draw attention from passersby. Gritting his teeth, he secretly pulled out a dagger and, while no one was looking, scraped the Buddha face on its back until it was ruined. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

Mm, much better.

"Aren't you afraid the Buddha will set his sights on you for doing that?" Meng Xiyue's faint voice drifted over from behind him.

Yuan Zhu's attitude was firm. "I think this gives me the best value for the cost."

Scrape, scrape... Behind him came the sound of daggers scraping wood as well.

Outwardly, everyone remained impassive. In truth, they all raised their hands to modify their Buddha statues, including the Security Bureau investigators. Hmph, what a superstitious woman! Once the six-person team had assembled, they followed the residents' procession—carrying lanterns, incense burners, Buddha statues, offerings...—along the stone-paved road. Along the way, it was clear that Na Ye City was steeped in Buddhist elements. Every household hung white paper lotus lanterns, giving the entire city the air of a funeral.

The passersby were all skilled at chanting Buddhist scriptures, their voices carrying a distinctive melody that sounded almost like singing. More and more people joined the procession along the way: ordinary humans, Tomato Pseudo-humans with blood-red heads... Everyone coexisted harmoniously, chanting softly, turning the atmosphere solemn and reverent and making one unconsciously feel small and humble.

This was merely ordinary people spontaneously chanting scriptures, yet it had already formed a powerful mental pressure. It pressed nonbelievers into feelings of shock, fear, yearning, solemnity... unconsciously driving them toward reverence and faith, until they ultimately took refuge in Buddhism.

If this power could be mobilized by the Extraordinary System, the effects would surely be terrifying.

Suppressing the oppressive feeling, Yuan Zhu's team arrived at an artificially cleared square in the east of the city. There had originally been buildings here, but they had been damaged in battle, then leveled and converted into the stage for this ritual.

From far away, he could see a monk standing on the other side of the square, dressed in splendor: a bright yellow monk's robe beneath a blood-red kasaya.

He looked like an ordinary human—an aged bald man with white brows and beard, fleshy cheeks—surrounded by a large group of Tomato Pseudo-humans with blood-red heads and bizarre green clothing.

The old monk occupied the central position, his presence overwhelming and his status supreme. He stood with his palms pressed together and his eyes closed, as though waiting for something, utterly unmoved by everything around him.

Though the blood-headed pseudo-humans around him wore no monk's robes, each of them held their palms together as well, devoutly worshipping him with the etiquette of Buddhist disciples. They surrounded and protected the old monk, excitement and anticipation written across their faces.

Beyond this small core circle were great numbers of low-status red-headed monks, red-headed Little Novices, and fanatical red-headed believers. At a ratio of three to two, they were mixed with human monks and human commoners of normal skin color, standing in special formations at different points around the square. Holding Buddhist Implements, they solemnly chanted scriptures and waited in silence.

There was not a scrap of unnecessary chatter at the scene. From the moment Yuan Zhu and his group arrived, everyone did only one thing: chant scriptures in low voices. Invisible currents of energy connected with one another, and Buddhist Zen Intent blanketed the square as though it intended to cover the entire Buddha City.

Under such circumstances, Yuan Zhu did not even dare breathe loudly. He could only watch quietly, communicating with his teammates through his eyes.

Through the little mouse tucked in his pocket, he could sense the invisible fluctuations of Buddhist Mental Pollution around the square rising rapidly.

When Hai Hour arrived, the chanting at the scene abruptly intensified severalfold. In an instant, it became vast and thunderous, like divine thunder pouring into their heads and bringing sudden enlightenment.

That Much-Learning Abbot suddenly opened his eyes and looked up at the sky.

Apart from the moon, which glowed emerald green in Yuan Zhu's eyes, the stars filling the sky seemed especially brilliant at this moment. They flickered and shimmered, echoing the chanting from the ground.

For a time, the waves of chanting drowned out everything... Invisible mental resonance, with the abbot as its absolute center, swept in all directions like collapsing dominoes.

What had originally been mere sounds from their mouths unknowingly intertwined and fused into thunderous Zen chants on the spiritual plane, carrying an innate will to subdue demons. It left scalps tingling and souls numb.

Standing amid it, Yuan Zhu heard the Immortal Scripture sound a frenzied alarm. Beyond the Immortal Scripture's layer of spiritual protection, the little mouse in his pocket and the clothes on his body successively raised two more layers of defense, resisting the brainwashing erosion of Buddhist spiritual Zen chants—pollution—upon their souls and consciousness.

Yuan Zhu remained clear-headed and looked toward the center of the square. Whether ordinary humans or Tomato Pseudo-humans with crimson heads, every one of them wore fanatical expressions. Their eyes shone with ghostly blue starlight, echoing the stars in space that had begun to flicker violently.

Hm? Under the abbot's leadership, these monks and commoners had actually drawn down the power of the stars? Was this starlight the true purpose of the Buddhist ritual? The Little Elf suddenly came online. "No! The abbot isn't leading it. It's those eggplant-headed pseudo-humans in green beside him. They're joining forces to draw down the starlight. This starlight is an extremely high-level energy pollution, but it is being drawn in and captured by the mental waves emitted by the Buddhists."

In the Little Elf's sensory analysis, the abbot had always been the core of the ritual.

Using the faith of all living beings in the Na Ye Buddhist Kingdom toward "Buddha" as the medium, and his own mind and soul as the anchor, he triggered mental resonance through Zen chanting and scripture recitation, linking everyone's minds together and weaving them into a vast net.

The core members at the center of the square were the raw materials forming this net. The commoners chanting and observing from the outskirts were likewise connected to it, serving as batteries that supplied energy to this "spiritual dharma net."

The circle of eggplant-headed pseudo-humans surrounding the abbot had also achieved mental resonance through chanting Buddhist teachings and connected themselves to the network. Yet they displayed another innate ability: through the dharma net's resonance, they led all the red-headed pseudo-humans in the square to draw down the starlight from the sky.

Yuan Zhu said, "I understand. That great monk is the core building the mental network. Everyone here has been linked together by him, while the people on the outskirts are being used as mental batteries. Those red-headed pseudo-humans forming the network possess an additional ability to communicate with starlight. They're luring this energy—this pollution—down, where the mental network captures and absorbs it."

The Little Elf said, "Yes, exactly."

"What are they doing this for?"

As the ritual proceeded in orderly fashion, a faint unease rose in his heart.

Perhaps it was because he was surrounded by an invisible "Buddhist Mental Pollution," trapped in a mire, while another kind of "starlight pollution" in the sky continued to gather, displaying a terrifying high-energy reaction. It looked ready to explode at any moment and twist all living beings, making him instinctively want to flee far away.

As the ritual advanced steadily, streams of starlight fell from the heavens and were caught by the dharma net. The ordinary monks and Little Novices standing at the center of the square, serving as the raw material of the dharma net themselves, were the first to fail. Their recitation of the scriptures began to break off in stutters, as though their brains had overloaded, frozen, and crashed into idiocy.

The Tomato Pseudo-humans with red heads fared even worse. Starlight burst from their eyes, while their minds were controlled by Buddhist spiritual pollution. The two forces used the minds of the eggplant-headed monks as a battlefield, tangling and attacking one another.

Some red-headed monks stopped chanting altogether, releasing instead eerie clucking laughter. One moment, they struggled to control themselves, their faces twisted in pain as they shouted, "Buddha! Buddha! Buddha!" The next, the starlight in their eyes gained the upper hand, and they cried toward the Starry Sky, "Eggplant! Eggplant! Eggplant!"

This scene of mental fracture seemed contagious, and more and more blood-headed monks lost control along with them.

One moment, they wept bitterly, repenting in devotion as they shouted, "Buddha! Buddha! Buddha!" The next, their expressions turned fanatical with madness as they screamed at the sky, "Eggplant! Eggplant! Eggplant!"

"Fuck! Brother Zhu Zi, I'm getting a little scared. Should we run?"

Seeing this scene of mass hysteria behind him, Lü Rang's legs trembled under the pressure of the intense starlight in the sky, nearly unable to hold him up. He hurriedly shoved Yuan Zhu hard, wanting to grab onto someone steady.

"Wait. Watch a little longer!"

Yuan Zhu, somewhat drawn in himself, also looked up at the Starry Sky. On one hand, he had the Immortal Scripture record this newly emerged pollution. On the other, he was becoming slightly absorbed by it, staring blankly at the twisting, changing starlight. He kept feeling that it contained endless great wisdom, drawing him to throw himself into it.

"Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck!!! Holy shit, Brother Zhu Zi, look! His head is flying up—his neck's about to be torn off!"

The ritual seemed to be a resounding success. As the red-headed monks in the arena collectively went mad, more and more starlight was drawn down from the Starry Sky, twisted into beams, pierced through the barrier of heaven, and projected into the human world, converging above the ritual site.

Then the starlight burst into wisps and threads, raining down from the sky straight toward the eyes of those eggplant-headed impostors, drilling into them.

Within those crimson skullcaps made of flesh and blood, starlight lit up. Each head shone like a lightbulb with a vivid scarlet glow, illuminating all around it.

The once somewhat dim plaza now had dozens, even hundreds, of bloody-red light sources hanging high like raised red lanterns, staining the entire scene crimson. It was almost on par with a horror movie. Was this a Buddhist Sect ritual, or a ceremony of the Yellow Springs?

As more and more starlight energy drilled into their eyes, their heads not only grew brighter, but larger as well. They lost their human-head shape, swelling round and huge, like oversized tomatoes with their facial features stretched and distorted.

Their blood-red heads grew larger, rounder, and brighter, then began rising against gravity, tugging their bodies toward the sky as though they wanted to return to the Starry Sky.

Yet the red-headed monks' feet were rooted firmly to the ground, struggling against those bloody-light heads that wanted to ascend into the Starry Sky. They cried out in agony, "Buddha Buddha Buddha! Eggplant Eggplant Eggplant! Buddha Buddha Buddha... Eggplant Eggplant Eggplant..."

Even Yuan Zhu's neck hurt just from watching that self-tugging spectacle.

Human necks were stretched longer and longer, giving off creaking, grinding sounds of bones rubbing together.

Until, with a pfft! "Buddha Buddha Buddha!" ×N "Eggplant Eggplant Eggplant!" ×N Yuan Zhu stared, dumbfounded. "Bloody romance—fucking spectacular!"

After living for so many years and growing this old, it was his first time seeing such a breathtaking sight. Amid the eerie evil was an inexplicable sense of beauty. It reminded him of a movie from the first half of his life, Raise the Red Lanterns High.

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My Buddha is merciful. May everyone's lives in the new year be blazing red and flourishing, dazed and bewildered...