The Amnesiac Youth

Amid roars and the clash of weapons, Chen Fan regained a sliver of consciousness and slowly opened his eyes. Yet his entire body was weak, his limbs numb. Waves of dizziness suddenly swept through his mind, as though he were about to fall unconscious again. He forced himself to stay awake, using his blurred vision and hearing to take in everything around him:

He was lying in a broad courtyard. It was nighttime, and his vision was limited; only a few candles burned within the yard. Judging from the style of the walls, he appeared to be in a temple. Around him, several dozen people lay scattered in all directions. Some lay faceup in pools of blood, some facedown with swords embedded in their bodies, while others appeared outwardly unharmed but had long since ceased breathing. They were all bald monks dressed in robes, and every one of them had died.

In the distance, seven monks held monk's staffs or dharma staffs, arranged in two rows of three in front and four behind. The four in the rear had clearly been injured. These seven monks had been forced back against the wall by a group of people and were already left with nowhere to retreat. Their opponents numbered twenty or thirty, all dressed in black and masked, of every height and build. The leader shouted, "You have all been poisoned by Spirit-Drunken Incense. Though the seven of you have some cultivation and managed to hold out until now, do you still intend to resist from your corner like trapped beasts? Hand over the treasure obediently, and we will spare your lives."

The seven monks seemed not to hear him. Their expressions were solemn, every one of them wearing the air of a man unafraid of death. One monk in the front row said sternly, "Amitabha. Benefactors, you launched a surprise attack on our temple tonight with so many men and such thorough preparations. I fear you never intended to leave any survivors. Besides, if you obtain the thing you seek, you will surely bring calamity upon one region. Since that is so, even if we exhaust our final thread of strength, we cannot let you have your way."

"Amitabha. Senior Brother, there is no need for more words," another monk said calmly. "This calamity befalling our temple is truly karmic retribution. I never imagined that, after remaining hidden for hundreds of years, our temple still could not escape this fate. Since everyone in the temple has already been harmed by poison, we have no wish to cling shamefully to life."

With that, he swung his dharma staff and charged at the enemy. Seeing this, the other six monks began chanting Buddhist invocations and rushed forward to fight alongside him... At that moment, an overwhelming weakness surged through Chen Fan's body, and he immediately lost consciousness again.

When Chen Fan woke once more, he felt a blinding glare. It was already daytime, and judging by the sun, it should have been noon. He checked his body. Though he was still weak and limp, he could barely sit upright. Walking would be somewhat difficult, but he should be able to recover on his own.

Recalling the scenes in his mind from earlier, his face darkened. I seem to remember absolutely nothing from before I woke up the first time. He looked around. This was indeed a temple, and the corpses strewn across the ground, along with the seven monks lying by the distant wall, proved that what had happened before had not been a dream.

That group in black had probably come to seize some treasure. But this was merely a small temple—could it truly possess some supreme treasure? And what had that monk meant by karmic retribution? He touched his hair. What confused him even more was that this was clearly a temple. He was not a monk, so why had he appeared here? Yet he wore the same monk's robes as the others, as though he truly had been part of this temple.

He tried recalling more, only to find that apart from the scene of the seven monks confronting the black-clad men, his mind remained completely blank. Forget it. If he could not remember, then he would not think about it for now. Though the black-clad men were gone, he had no idea whether they might return. His best course now was to find a way out of this place of trouble.

Chen Fan staggered toward the courtyard exit step by step. However, just as he was about to leave through the courtyard gate, a faint cry suddenly reached his ears. "Xiao Fan." Chen Fan stopped and looked around, but found no one calling him. Just as he was about to walk away, he heard it again. "Xiao Fan." This time, Chen Fan identified the direction and walked toward the wall. Of the three monks lying there, one's body twitched faintly. Chen Fan did not rashly approach. He stopped several steps away and asked, "You're not dead? Were you calling me just now?" The monk's face was pale, and he seemed to be at death's door. After catching his breath, he raised his voice with all his strength. "Yes. Xiao Fan, are you all right?"

Chen Fan's heart tightened. It seemed he truly was someone from this temple. He hurried toward the monk, only for his unrecovered body to suddenly betray him. He fell flat on his face like a dog gnawing mud. Yet when he lifted his head, he found the monk's face right before him.

Seeing this, some color seemed to return to the monk's face. With a faint smile, he said, "It seems you were poisoned by that Spirit-Drunken Incense too. I never expected someone of your cultivation to recover so quickly. Fortunately, you must have been far from where it happened." But his expression immediately darkened. "Could it be that you have lost your memory? You do not recognize me?"

Chen Fan nodded heavily. "Right now, I only remember that you fought those black-clad men at night. I cannot remember anything from before that. I cannot even remember who I am."

"It must be an aftereffect of the poison," the monk muttered. "You are Chen Fan. Master brought you into the temple, and you grew up here from childhood. Though you never had your head shaved and formally became a monk, we all treated you as our little junior brother. Master left years ago to travel and has yet to return. Who could have expected such a disaster to strike? Now the incense of this temple has been extinguished. You must leave quickly." At this point, he broke into violent coughing and spat out several mouthfuls of blood.

Just as Chen Fan was about to examine his injuries, the monk raised a hand to stop him. Seemingly using his final breath, his expression sharpened as he said, "In the rear hall... beneath the Buddha statue... do not let it... fall into..." Before he could finish, the monk breathed his last.

Chen Fan slowly rose to his feet. The discomfort in his body had eased somewhat more. He pondered the monk's final words. It seemed there truly was some treasure hidden in this temple. Should he take it? A common man committed no crime, but possessing jade became his crime. Even with his memory gone, he understood that principle perfectly well. If not for this treasure, the entire temple would not have suffered such a calamity. Yet while he hesitated, his body slowly began walking toward the rear hall. He laughed at himself. It seemed curiosity had still defeated everything else.

Inside the rear hall, three Buddha statues stood in a row. All were cast from bronze, their surfaces dull and unremarkable. They looked ancient, likely having stood there since the temple had first been built. It seemed the treasure was hidden within these statues. Chen Fan did not immediately retrieve it. He cautiously inspected the temple again, checking even each corpse on the ground one by one. Once he confirmed that he was the only living person left, and the discomfort in his body had eased further, he entered the rear hall again and crouched beside the statues, feeling around. After searching for some time, he found nothing.

Unfortunately, the monk's clue had been too vague. He had only said beneath the Buddha statue and had not mentioned the exact location. Chen Fan searched for a long time without finding anything. Time trickled away bit by bit. If those black-clad men returned, things would turn bad. As his thoughts churned, he looked toward a spot beneath one of the Buddha statues. Right—if something were to be hidden, it would surely be inside the statue, where it would be harder to discover. And the monk had said beneath the Buddha statue.

At that thought, Chen Fan immediately grew excited. He searched through the rear hall again, found an iron pestle in one place, then returned to the Buddha statues and inspected each one, knocking on every Buddha foot. Finally, with a thunk, the sound from striking the left foot of one Buddha statue was clearly different. Chen Fan could barely restrain the frenzy in his heart. He instinctively looked around once more, then drew a deep breath and swung the iron pestle at that Buddha foot. With a tremendous clang, the entire top of the foot collapsed, revealing a hollow space within.

Sure enough, this Buddha foot is hollow. It must be here. Chen Fan reached into the Buddha foot as he thought this. Given his normally cautious nature, he should have guarded against the unknown dangers inside. But remembering the monk's words before his death, there was no possibility that the monk had intended to set him up. He reached into the Buddha foot and felt around, only pulling out an old, tattered book and a wooden box.

Chen Fan was somewhat disappointed. "Could these be the so-called treasures? These two utterly unremarkable things would probably draw no attention even if openly displayed." But after pondering briefly, he continued, "Since they were hidden inside the Buddha statue, and the entire temple died because of them, they must indeed be the treasures. But now is not the time to study them. I should first leave this place and find somewhere safe."

With that, Chen Fan decided to leave at once. However, though he had lost all his memories, according to the monk, this had been the place where he grew up. He might not feel attached to it, but he should still look around for useful things and see whether he could awaken any memories in the process.

Thus, he spent nearly another two hours wandering around the temple. The temple truly was not large: a front hall, central hall, rear hall, and more than twenty side rooms on either side. It seemed the permanent residents of the temple could not have numbered more than thirty. Counting the people in monk's robes lying on the ground, it seemed that apart from himself, no one who had been in the temple at the time had survived.

Chen Fan "plundered" all the silver, daily necessities, dried rations, and other items from the side rooms. In the training room, he found some very basic cultivation manuals, though he did not examine them closely, and packed everything into his bundle. The old book and wooden box were also inside. Chen Fan planned to leave first, find a concealed place, and study them carefully later.

Finally, as he was about to leave through the temple gate, he suddenly thought of something. He stopped, looked at the yellow monk's robes on his body, and hurried back. In one of the side rooms, he found a set of ordinary clothes and changed into them. Then, in the courtyard where the battle had taken place, he picked up a sword. It should have been a weapon dropped by one of the black-clad men, and it was the only weapon here that was neither a staff nor a rod. Its blade was several inches shorter than an ordinary sword, while its wooden hilt was somewhat battered.

I'm about to wander the martial world alone, yet this sword is far too shabby. Chen Fan did not dare use a staff-type weapon for fear that the black-clad men might notice. Thus, he changed his appearance by changing clothes and set out with a sword in hand. That should prevent anyone from suspecting his connection to this temple.

He considered it for a while longer before finally sighing. He lit a fire and set the front hall, central hall, rear hall, and the entire temple ablaze one by one. In truth, he did not wish to burn everything here to ashes. Even if he had lost his memories, this was still where he had lived for many years. But when he thought of the hole in the Buddha's foot in the rear hall, he knew that if any of the black-clad men returned, they would certainly grow suspicious. He had lived here for years; perhaps they could find information about him in the temple. Combined with the dead bald men on the ground and the fact that he was the only one here with hair on his head, it would not be difficult to deduce that he had survived and fled with the treasure.

Therefore, to guard against every possibility, Chen Fan still hardened his heart and did it. "Since the dead are already gone, I had no choice but to do this to preserve my life. Those senior brothers should understand. Besides, burning their bodies is also a form of delivering them from suffering."

Comforting himself in his heart, Chen Fan left the place where he had lived for many years amid the raging flames behind him.