The Monk Sanjie

As they ate and chatted, Zhang Xuan learned that the monk's Dharma name was Sanjie, the Three Abstentions.

"My master gave me this Dharma name so I would abstain from anger, impatience, and killing people."

The Monk took a bite of his bun. His tone was calm, yet his words made Zhang Xuan's heart jolt.

"Killing people?"

Zhang Xuan raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Isn't it usually abstaining from killing living beings?"

"Subduing demons and vanquishing fiends means killing living beings too."

The Monk smiled after saying this, a trace of complicated emotion flashing through his eyes. "Before I entered the monastery, I was a wandering swordsman. Being tall and several times stronger than an ordinary man, I always fancied myself a gallant hero and stirred up plenty of trouble. Three years ago, something happened that left me with a lifelong regret. Only then did I seek refuge in the Buddhist faith."

He paused, his voice sinking. "From then on, I abandoned everything from my secular life and lived only by the name Sanjie."

Zhang Xuan listened in silence. The Monk's words and manner carried a decidedly bandit-like air. Rather than a monk, he seemed more like an outlaw.

Unaware that Zhang Xuan's thoughts had wandered, the Monk continued, "A few years ago, friction grew constant among the kingdoms within the territory of the Way of Great Peace. Their borders in particular saw one clash of arms after another. Meanwhile, natural disasters struck again and again—Northern Qi suffered a drought unmatched in decades, leaving a thousand miles of scorched earth; plague ravaged Southern Liang, emptying nine homes out of ten; Great Wei to the east fared even worse, with repeated floods that submerged even its royal capital, leaving corpses floating for a thousand miles."

Engrossed in the account, Zhang Xuan could not help interrupting. "With all three kingdoms hit by natural disasters, wouldn't the remaining kingdom, Western Zhou, be blooming with joy?"

After saying this, Zhang Xuan noticed a strange look in the Monk's eyes. A moment later, however, it disappeared, and the Monk shook his head. "Unlike those three kingdoms, Western Zhou indeed suffered no natural disasters. But strangely enough, the kingdom whose strength declined most severely was Western Zhou."

"That... goes against all reason."

Zhang Xuan knitted his brows, his confusion deepening.

"Then, Master, which of those kingdoms do you come from?"

The Monk shook his head, his tone even. "I am from Great Zhou. Three years ago, for certain reasons, I sought refuge in the Buddhist faith and became a monk in Cloudrise City, on the border between Great Zhou and Northern Qi."

Seeing Zhang Xuan's blank expression, the Monk raised his eyebrows, a note of surprise entering his voice. "You have never heard of Cloudrise City, Daoist? The city famed for its 'three thousand Buddhas within a single city'?"

Having no memories, Zhang Xuan naturally knew nothing about it. He could only give an awkward smile and scratch his head. "I'm from a small place and know little of the world. Please forgive my ignorance."

The Monk nodded and continued, "Cloudrise City lies on the border between Western Zhou and Northern Qi. It was originally a no-man's-land beyond anyone's jurisdiction, so by rights it should have been utter chaos. Yet the truth was precisely the opposite—though people could not quite leave their doors unlocked at night or trust that lost belongings would remain untouched on the roads, it certainly deserved to be called orderly."

"The reason was the forest of temples in that tiny patch of land. Among them, the Ten Thousand Buddhas Temple was hailed as the orthodox seat of Buddhism, and legend held that the Buddhist teachings originated there. That was how Cloudrise City, wedged between two great powers, earned its beautiful name: the 'Buddhist Kingdom in the Palm of a Hand.'"

At this point, the Monk's voice abruptly stopped. His hearty, forthright expression vanished in an instant, replaced by dark clouds.

Noticing the change, Zhang Xuan called softly, "Master?"

Black flames, corpses strewn across the ground, and his master's horrifying, mutilated body, its relic torn out while he was still alive, surfaced one after another in Monk Sanjie's mind. Cloudrise City, famed as the "Buddhist Kingdom in the Palm of a Hand," had become a hell overnight...

"Sorry. I remembered something from the past."

The Monk lowered his head. Beneath his loose robes, his clenched fists cracked and popped, as though he were struggling desperately to suppress the fury in his heart.

He drew a deep breath and continued, "As the saying goes, in a year of natural disasters, demons and evil are sure to appear. A year ago, a demonic calamity broke out within Great Zhou, and bizarre incidents began springing up endlessly. I have been traveling west to investigate this matter, while also vanquishing fiends and slaying demons along the way."

Zhang Xuan's heart tightened at these words.

So the land I am in right now is actually Western Zhou, the strangest and most dangerous place in this world?

Monk's words gave him a broad understanding of this world, but also left him increasingly uneasy.

Was leaving the Celestial Master's Mansion so rashly right or wrong...?

As he pondered this, a hand as large as a palm-leaf fan suddenly pressed down on his shoulder.

Zhang Xuan jolted in fright. Looking up, he found that Monk Sanjie had somehow moved to sit beside him, his bronze-bell-sized eyes fixed intently on him.

"Daoist, our meeting means fate has brought us together. Why not travel together for a while and investigate the strange incidents within Western Zhou? We could do our part for all the living souls beneath heaven."

Monk's voice was deep and forceful, his gaze burning.

Zhang Xuan immediately waved his hands in refusal, his tone firm. "You misunderstand, Master. I am not a Daoist. These robes were merely a gift from a Daoist at a temple I passed, because my clothes were torn."

What a joke! Knowing that demonic and supernatural calamities were breaking out all over Western Zhou, I can't run away fast enough. Why would I play at slaying demons and vanquishing fiends with this reckless monk? Wouldn't that be like the God of Longevity hanging himself—asking to die?

Having finally escaped the Celestial Master's Mansion, all he wanted now was to travel safely west and follow the guidance of the Celestial Master's Ordination to find that so-called destined opportunity.

He would fill the blank spaces in his memory through what he saw and heard along the way, gradually absorb the two treasures he had brought out of the Celestial Master's Mansion, and then investigate just what the Celestial Master's Ordination passed down to him by the Old Celestial Master actually was.

The monk remained unmoved, shaking his large head like a rattle-drum. "Your spirit is bright and your aura pure, Daoist. You must be an accomplished master of the Dao. That cannot be faked!"

He firmly believed that Zhang Xuan was no ordinary person. Just moments ago, he had seen with his own eyes Zhang Xuan holding lightning in his hand and blasting a Chang Ghost until its soul scattered into nothing.

The art of thunder was known as an orthodox practice of the Mystic Gate and regarded as the "foremost of all arts." It symbolized the rightful lineage of Daoism, and only accomplished Daoist masters who had undergone rigorous training and possessed pure hearts could learn and wield it.

This Daoist can wield the Thunder Method at such a young age. No wonder he dares venture out alone in such troubled times.

I'm not, I didn't, don't make things up...

Before Zhang Xuan could utter his triple denial, Monk had already stepped back, pressed his palms together, and invoked the Buddha's name. "Amitabha!"

"Though I do not know why you conceal your identity, Daoist, you must have your difficulties. I will ask no further."

The monk's tone was sincere, but his gaze was sharp as a blade. "But now, the other three kingdoms have stationed troops around Great Zhou's borders to prevent the demonic and supernatural calamities from spreading. Within its borders, apart from the imperial capital, where the Demon Suppression Bureau holds watch, strange incidents are frequent in every prefecture. If you travel alone, Daoist, I fear ill fortune will outweigh good. Why not travel with me, so we can look out for one another?"

These words made Zhang Xuan's expression change sharply.

He had not expected the situation within Western Zhou to have grown this grave. The calamity of Demon Ghosts was not only running rampant, but had even prompted the other three kingdoms to station troops in readiness. If what Monk said was true, his westward journey to find the Marrow-Washing Body-Refining Pill would likely be far from easy.

Zhang Xuan fell silent for a moment, weighing the pros and cons.

He had no memories now, and he could not trust the people of the Celestial Master's Mansion. Though this Monk was somewhat peculiar, he did not seem like a bad person. Since they were both heading in the same direction, west, there was no harm in traveling with him for a while and learning about this world along the way.

Sounds occasionally came from the darkness, rustling made by unknown wild beasts. When he glanced over, all he could see were pairs of eerie, icy-green eyes.

The Monk said he would keep watch that night, and Zhang Xuan did not refuse. Too much had happened over the past two days. After that string of events, he was utterly drained, and before long, he fell asleep...