Physical Deliverance

Zhang Xuan stared wide-eyed at the Bluestone Brick embedded in the ghost, a flicker of absurdity rising in his heart...

At last, the big bald man approached. He carried another Bluestone Brick and grinned at Zhang Xuan, revealing a gleaming set of white teeth. "A Daoist priest, no less! This humble monk saw lightning flashing here from far away and thought there must be an expert present. It seems you, too, wished to vanquish demons, uphold the Dao, and bring peace to these parts. This Monk has merely gilded the lily!"

Seeing Zhang Xuan still clutching his head, he asked with concern, "Were you injured by these fiends, Daoist?"

Zhang Xuan held his forehead, finding the whole thing ridiculous. How did my forehead get hurt? Don't you have the slightest idea?

Though he grumbled inwardly, he smiled and waved a hand. "Getting rid of these demons comes first. Please, Master, go right ahead!"

The Monk nodded repeatedly, then declared with heroic spirit soaring to the clouds, "You're right, Daoist! In that case, leave these fiends to me!"

With that, he pulled a wine gourd from his waist, took a deep swig, raised the brick in his hand, and sprayed a mouthful of thick liquid over it.

Zhang Xuan looked closely. The liquid was so dark red it was almost black, with a bloody odor—Blood?!

Satisfied with the coating of "black dog blood" on his Bluestone Brick, the Monk nodded, raised it, and laughed boldly at the two remaining ghosts nearby. "Come on, come on! Taste this Buddha's Vajra Seal!"

Watching this, Zhang Xuan felt his thoughts tumble into disarray. Black Donkey Hoof, black dog blood, bricks... What even is all this? Is this Monk here to catch ghosts or open a general store?!

An eerie atmosphere hung in the air. The ghosts' shrill laughter, the Monk's bold declarations, and the black dog blood dripping from the brick wove together into a scene both absurd and terrifying.

Zhang Xuan simply stood dumbstruck to one side, watching the hulking Monk swing his brick and, sure enough, pound the two ghosts blow after blow until green smoke rose from their entire bodies.

Before long, the ghosts vanished like smoke scattered on the wind.

Wait, buddy, since when did Buddhist disciples' methods of delivering evil spirits become so... advanced?

This is way too plain and unadorned. It's pure... physical deliverance, isn't it?

After dealing with the two ghosts, the Monk gave his brick a cursory wipe with some roadside thatch. The withered yellow grass stuck to the black dog blood, leaving the brick covered in a sticky mess. Once he had tidied it up a little, he contentedly stuffed it into the large cloth bag on his back, then strode toward Zhang Xuan.

"Amitabha. Are you all right, Daoist?"

With the danger past, Zhang Xuan finally had a chance to take a good look at the Monk before him.

One look made him suck in a sharp breath.

The Monk was extraordinarily burly, standing nearly two meters tall like an iron tower. His coarse beard piled untidily over his chin like tangled weeds, yet did nothing to hide his fierce presence.

He wore a gray-white kasaya, washed so often it had faded pale and densely covered in patches. Even so, it could not conceal the bulging, knotted muscles beneath it.

No wonder...

Zhang Xuan sighed inwardly.

So it was this terrifying physique that had allowed the Monk to deliver those two ghosts with nothing but a Bluestone Brick.

In the moonlight, the Monk looked even more imposing, like a wrathful vajra guardian.

For some reason, Zhang Xuan recalled a saying: All fear stems from insufficient firepower—with enough strength, bricks fly, and ghosts destroy themselves!

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Thank you for coming to my aid, Master."

Zhang Xuan forced a faint smile, but before he had finished speaking, a loud growl came from his stomach.

The Monk glanced down at his weak, trembling legs and smiled freely, showing his white teeth. "A chance meeting is a bond of fate, Daoist. Let's talk over a meal."

As he spoke, he took several ears of corn from the cloth bag on his back, then casually picked up a few branches from the ground.

With his muscle-knotted arms, he drove the branches through the corn as easily as poking through tofu, skewering each ear in one clean motion.

The corn was normal enough, but the things the Monk next pulled from his enormous cloth bag grew increasingly outrageous...

A small vessel of rice wine and two large chunks of cured dried meat.

Zhang Xuan woodenly accepted the dried meat Monk handed him, then looked up at the conspicuous ordination scars on his bald head.

Seeming to notice Zhang Xuan's gaze, Monk rubbed his head and grinned. "Stop staring. This humble monk is a genuine, properly ordained renunciant."

The corner of Zhang Xuan's mouth twitched. A renunciant? This big monk doesn't seem to have renounced all that much.

The monk smiled freely. "This humble monk practices Wild Chan. Wine and meat pass through the gut, while the Buddha sits within the heart. Drinking wine and eating meat are no great matter."

The campfire flickered...

Zhang Xuan really was starving. He had not even had a drop of water, yet had unleashed two enormously draining blasts of Palm Thunder. Had he not met Monk, those two sinister creatures might not even have needed to attack him. Another half day, and he would probably have starved to death on his own.

And so, a monk and a Daoist priest tore into their dried meat, each holding two skewered ears of corn over the campfire to roast.

Halfway through roasting, Zhang Xuan, who had been staring impatiently at the food, suddenly noticed a problem. He looked thoughtfully at the nearly cooked corn in his hands...

"Master, if I remember correctly, this fire... was used to roast human flesh just now."

Zhang Xuan's voice was hesitant. His gaze settled on the corn in his hands, his brows tightly furrowed.

Monk paused, then burst into laughter, his deep voice ringing like a bell. "You may not know this, Daoist, but those things were merely Chang Ghosts who died unjust deaths in the wilderness. They have no real abilities. They rely entirely on illusions to frighten travelers entering the mountains."

"Illusions?"

Zhang Xuan frowned, a trace of confusion flashing in his eyes. "Frighten people? Why?"

Monk bit into a roasted ear of corn. Steam escaped the corners of his mouth, revealing two rows of large white teeth like metal. "According to folk legend, a person has three lamps: one atop the head and one on each shoulder. They're commonly called 'Soul-Guarding Lamps.' These three lamps seal a person's soul in place, keeping ghosts from luring it away."

He paused, then continued, "The elders often say that when you're walking at night, if you hear an 'acquaintance' calling you, you must never turn around. When you turn, the breath from your mouth blows out the lamps on your shoulders. Once the lamps go out, your soul is lost."

Zhang Xuan nodded. He vaguely remembered that legend, as though he had heard it in some distant memory.

"When someone is utterly terrified, their Soul-Guarding Lamps also go out."

Monk exhaled a plume of white breath, his gaze deep. "Those three Chang Ghosts wanted to use illusions to frighten the guts out of someone. Once all the Soul-Guarding Lamps went out, they could snatch that person's soul and feast to their hearts' content."

At that, Zhang Xuan looked toward the spot where the human foot had fallen earlier—sure enough, the bloody foot had long since vanished without a trace.

He let out a long breath, the stone in his heart finally settling, and began taking great bites of his corn.

"That's a relief. So it was all an illusion. If this fire really had roasted human flesh, I'm not sure I could stomach anything cooked over it, haha."

He shook his head with a smile, his tone much lighter.

Yet just as Zhang Xuan was feasting, Monk took advantage of his inattention and secretly hurled a skewer of blood-drenched objects he had hidden behind his back far into the distance...

"Huh? What was that sound?"

Zhang Xuan's cheeks were bulging with food. His ears twitched slightly, and his gaze swept toward the darkness.

Monk scratched his big bald head and gave a somewhat guilty chuckle. "Probably some little mountain animal. Nothing to worry about. Daoist, are those two ears of corn enough? If not, I've got a few steamed buns here."

Zhang Xuan stood on no ceremony. He accepted the buns and continued eating.