"That monk, and those rat demons..."
Who knew what their fates would become after the passing years.
That exchange of questions and answers, that promise—in Lu Qing's eyes, a thread of Cause and Effect had quietly come into being.
The young monk had spared those rat demons. His face was youthful, a string of large Buddhist beads around his neck and another in his hand. He looked every inch the demon-subduing, fiend-slaying sort.
He seemed to sense Lu Qing's gaze and raised his head as well.
Seeing a young man standing by the window, he watched Lu Qing nod at him.
The young monk did not understand why, but recalling what had just happened, he vaguely came to realize something.
With his palms pressed together in a Buddhist salute, he said, "Amitabha Buddha."
It had only been a chance meeting and a nod. After returning the Buddhist salute, the young monk left as well.
Lu Qing said nothing.
The closer he came to the imperial capital, the destination of this journey, the more extraordinary people he encountered.
"This thread of Cause and Effect would be better called a stretch of cultivation."
Lu Qing inexplicably recalled an old tale, one written by a scholar. It was filled from beginning to end with dazzling fantasy, yet its stories seeped with the ways of the world, rich with the flavor of mortal life.
One chapter, Pact of the Dead, bore much resemblance to what he had seen before him. It too involved humans and demons, with both sides making a verbal promise under the witness of a Land God.
Perhaps that scholar had originally failed the imperial examinations, and in the end, he simply wrote with righteous indignation.
He wrote of human cunning and demon heartlessness. In their youth, both sides had been