Pine Ghost

Li Fuchan clapped his hands, then turned his gaze to Mu Liang'er. He examined the longsword and horsetail whisk in her hands before glancing at the Storage Bag hanging from her waist.

"Good. Very good. The stronger her backing, the better. A Purple Mansion cultivator's own daughter would be best."

As he sized up Mu Liang'er, she was sizing him up as well.

The man before her wore a black robe with broad sleeves, without gold or jade ornaments, without tassels. With a silver crown and raven-black hair, he was exceptionally handsome. Yet his long brows and narrow eyes made it plain that he was not an easy man to deal with.

"Mu Liang'er, disciple of Quan Yong, abbot of the Peaceful Way Abbey, pays her respects to you, senior."

"So the abbot of the Peaceful Way Abbey is called Quan Yong."

Li Fuchan paced two steps forward and answered casually, "Then we do have a connection. Senior Jia Hua entrusted me with coming here to quell the demonic troubles. I never expected to stumble upon something like this."

Mu Liang'er was overjoyed to hear this. Only an Outer Scenery cultivator could glimpse something of the truth behind such an uncanny scene. Though she possessed many magical artifacts, her cultivation was inadequate, and she had been fretting over her lack of options.

Master probably never foresaw this. Fortunately, my martial uncle prepared for rain before the clouds gathered and invited an Outer Scenery senior who cultivates Li Thunder. Even if he cannot resolve this predicament, he should at least be able to escape.

With these thoughts in mind, she grew even more respectful. Offering the salute of a junior, she said, "A Wisdom King from the western Buddhist Land may be descending into this world. Please make haste to Flying Yellow Mountain, senior, and inform my master."

Hearing this, Li Fuchan realized that the Peaceful Way Abbey had never told her about the matter. The schemes of these bald donkeys had come as a complete surprise to her as well. He could not help sighing. "The hundred-li radius around Zongshedu Mountain has already been sealed by restrictions."

"A hundred-li radius?"

Mu Liang'er cried out in shock. Restrictions capable of sealing a hundred-li radius could already be called a formation. In the Northern Lands of You Province, cultivators capable of laying formations were few and far between. Only Mount Jiuyi still possessed two complete formation inheritances: one for confinement, one for slaughter. Years ago, a cultivator had acquired that confinement Dao Lineage through a trade. That man was... Quan Yong.

Master, my martial uncle, and the leaders of the six mountains seem to have been preparing all along to return to South of the Yangtze. My martial uncle has left the mountain in recent years, too. It looks as though that day is not far off. If their plans have something to do with a Wisdom King descending into this world, that would make sense.

A being as exalted as a Wisdom King was equivalent to Purple Mansion in the immortal path, and stood at the very pinnacle even in the Buddhist Land. Such a being could meet the World-Honored One, listen to the Buddhist teachings, and with a single thought, bring a kalpa to annihilation...

With a Wisdom King's help, something as simple as returning south could easily be accomplished.

But securing a Wisdom King's aid would surely come at a price.

Mu Liang'er lowered her head and looked at herself.

The Wisdom Consort?

A terrifying thought suddenly sprang into her mind.

Perhaps she was the true sacrifice.

Mu Liang'er stood rooted to the spot, motionless, as though struck by lightning.

Li Fuchan paid her no mind. He walked straight past her to where the old man had been sitting lifelessly. Looking at the now witless, deranged old man, he hauled him up. A speck of Illuminating Light shone from Brow Peak, striking the old man squarely in the face, and he shouted sternly, "What good did killing your son do? The chief culprit has yet to be brought down, and that thieving Wisdom King is still sitting in the temple! If you have hatred in your heart, use this broken body to Slay the Thief. Better that than sitting here in madness, wasting yourself as a useless cripple!"

The old man shuddered. A flash of silvery white suddenly flickered in his cloudy eyes, then became a sky-filling blaze of blood-red light. Hatred flared, burning the depths of his eyes crimson. His clenched teeth chattered as he forced a few words from deep in his throat. "I'll kill them. I'll kill those beasts."

Li Fuchan set him down and watched. Like a length of deadwood swept up by a gale, the old man stumbled away until he vanished from sight.

"Using Illuminating Light to see you through this ordeal is better than leaving you here to wait for death."

Blades could not kill this old man, and those crazed villagers had even wanted to drag him off to serve as their abbot. Clearly, there was something behind it.

In Li Fuchan's experience, once the Wisdom King descended, the old man was certain to attain enlightenment in a single morning and become a Buddha on the spot. Better to take advantage of that lingering hatred and let him use this undying body to make some trouble for the Wisdom King.

Li Fuchan glanced at Mu Liang'er, who was still standing frozen in place, unsure what she was thinking. With a sweep of his broad sleeve, he flung out a streak of lightning fire onto the corpse the old man had stabbed until scarcely any part remained intact. The body turned to ashes in an instant. He muttered, "That should keep it from springing any surprises."

He was just about to ask Mu Liang'er a few questions—if she had some magical artifact capable of opening the formation, escaping first would be best—when his gaze suddenly sharpened and turned toward the old pine in the courtyard.

At some point, a ghostly face scored with deep furrows had emerged on the old pine's trunk. Its lips and teeth moved as though it were reciting something. Li Fuchan leaned closer to listen, and his expression changed abruptly. "We respectfully welcome the sacred arrival of Homage to the Great Compassionate Wisdom King, and pay our respects to Homage to the Great Compassionate Wisdom Consort."

The ruined temple.

An enormous iron pillar stood in the hall, threaded through layer upon layer of flesh and blood that had been pieced together into half a sacred image of the Wisdom King. Dark red fluid still seeped between the masses of flesh, dripping onto the blue bricks and spreading into deep brown stains.

A group of dark-skinned novices in gray monk's robes worked with bowed heads, repairing the ruined temple. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and they made not the slightest sound.

Just then, all the novices stopped working in unison and turned at the same time to look toward the temple entrance.

An old man stood there in the distance, carrying a wooden bucket.

Dirt and scraps of grass still clung to him. His back was hunched, his face resembled a red sweet potato, and his eyes shone with a terrifying brightness.

At the sight of him, the novices' faces lit up with wild delight. Together, they pressed their palms together, bowed, and chanted, "Homage to the Great Compassionate Wisdom King. We respectfully welcome the abbot."

At those words, the hatred in the old man's eyes grew fiercer, almost bursting from their sockets. He cursed sharply, "Beasts! Beasts! I'll send you to meet the Wisdom King right now!"

The novices' expressions grew even more frenzied, as though they had drunk the cream of enlightenment. They bowed down one after another and recited in unison, "Praise be to the abbot. Praise be to the abbot."

The old man said nothing more. He splashed all the pungent contents of his bucket over the half-formed Wisdom King of flesh and blood, then went outside and returned with another bucket, pouring it over the novices' heads one by one. Some had their faces drenched, yet still smiled with crazed devotion, as though the clay ghost faces in the temple had been coated with oil.

The old man tossed the empty bucket aside and looked at the familiar faces before him. Some had once been his juniors, others his old friends. Now they were all beasts, all monsters.

He took a firelighter from inside his robe and threw it out,

Boom.

Flames surged into the sky and swallowed the entire hall in an instant.

The old man stood motionless amid the flames.

The fire lit his twisted face, hideous and terrifying, yet steeped in profound fear.

The novices remained crazed amid the raging flames. Their robes crackled as they burned, and their flesh sizzled with bubbling fat, but they seemed utterly unaware. They continued kneeling and bowing with their palms pressed together, mumbling indistinct recitations.

The fire cast their shadows onto the walls, like a horde of demons dancing wildly in silence.