Unsettling Information

By the time Lu Feng woke, monks had already lit bonfires and set up hearths and copper stoves, adding warmth to the night to keep those soaked by the rain from freezing to death through the long, cold night.

Lu Feng's ever-burning butter lamp slowly shed its light, illuminating the room.

The Damaru, the Vajra Bell, and the Dharma Conch were all giving off faint sounds, protecting and blessing Lu Feng.

Every character on his Kapala rosary gave off a faint compassionate resonance. Not a trace of ghost resonance had remained on Lu Feng.

Someone was making butter tea in the kitchen nearby, while the smell of medicinal broth drifted over from not far away. Several yellow-robed attendant monks were tossing medicinal ingredients into a pot to boil. They were all fierce, potent drugs, like tigers and wolves, and their smell was choking.

This was how those medical monks prescribed and brewed medicine, which reminded Lu Feng of a story he had once heard.

It was the supposed origin of the term "Mongolian doctor."

The title "Mongolian doctor" had become associated with quacks. It was said to have spread from the Qing imperial capital, claiming that Mongolian doctors were quacks with second-rate medical skills, poorly trained and incapable of treating illness.

The people of the Qing imperial capital had actually misunderstood those Mongolian doctors. Mongolian doctors were exceptional at treating traumatic injuries, and their outstanding skills extended beyond treating people to treating horses as well. Moreover, they treated people out on the grasslands, where they could not see patients and treat them day after day. Thus, Mongolian doctors generally administered potent medicine, seeking results with a single dose.

As for what happened afterward, at worst there would only be some lingering side effects. Compared with life and death, those were trivial matters. Later, Mongolian doctors came to the imperial capital to treat its residents. These residents had neither horses nor sheep, nor could they go running about. Yet the Mongolian doctors still treated them with their old prescriptions, and some of their methods were rather extreme. As a result, some people could not withstand the potency of the medicine, and the label "Mongolian doctor" spread, calling them quacks.

It was the same in the Secret Dharma Region.

Survival came first; everything else came afterward. If they swallowed this dose today and survived, that was the Lama's protection. If they did not, then such was their fate. Without the destined affinity, there was no forcing it. This was how those medical monks treated illness and saved lives, and no one found anything wrong with it.

Lu Feng could get up without struggling. He felt as vigorous as ever from head to toe, with inexhaustible strength throughout his body. This was the benefit of bringing his divine strength to perfection.

Full of energy, he sat cross-legged. Seeing that Elder Mingli's monastic robes had not even gotten wet, Lu Feng confessed to the Lama that he had failed to protect the scripture he had given him and failed to protect the Buddhist treasure, and asked the Lama to punish him.

Elder Mingli sat in the full lotus position, with no intention of blaming him. He said none of this had anything to do with Lu Feng.

Lu Feng saw that they were on the second floor of a fortified tower. He did not know where the tower was or how much time had passed, though he supposed it had not been very long. Beside the Lama, the monk who was probably Zhiyuan held a writing brush, constantly recording something. Someone nearby was burning incense offerings and hanging prayer flags.

The guide monk also stuffed some medicinal ingredients, along with oily substances rolled into balls whose purpose Lu Feng did not know, into the incense burner before him.

He lit them with the flames of the incense offering, then quickly put the lid on the burner!

The smoke pouring from this incense burner was a messenger between humans and gods. Some Spirit Shamans relied heavily on it, inhaling it into their bellies. The guide monk began casting divinations.

Lu Feng looked away from the guide monk casting divinations and turned his gaze back to Monk Zhiyuan. Monk Zhiyuan handled his brush very well, and the paper on which he wrote the scriptures was actually identical to the paper Lu Feng had seen and read secrets from!

Several attendant monks beside him were checking his writing. Everyone seemed busy. Elder Mingli said that since Yongzhen was awake, he should distribute the medicinal broth, count their numbers, and take Zawa and the others on a patrol of the surrounding area.

Only after bowing repeatedly did Lu Feng go down from the fortified tower.

Someone upstairs was chanting scriptures, the pitch rising and falling. That low voice made it hard to recall which senior brother it belonged to.

As he descended from the tower, Lu Feng saw a group kneeling in front of it. They were Zawa and the others who had prayed for him outside Sunrise Temple. All of them were kneeling on the ground now, and he did not know how long they had been there, praying for him without cease and reciting the "Six-Syllable Great Brightness Mantra."

At least Lu Feng's clothes had dried. Their clothes were still plastered to their bodies, and their lips had gone pale with cold. They shivered, looking as though they might freeze to death at any moment. The nights of the Secret Dharma Region were no joke.

"Get up, all of you."

Lu Feng lit a bonfire in the courtyard and told Zawa and the others to gather around it. They knelt again, thanking the Bodhisattva for bringing the Lama back. Lu Feng lightly pressed his palms together as well. He waited until the medicinal broth being brewed upstairs arrived, told them to drink it, and asked where they were.

Zawa said this was the abandoned Wula Station. Lu Feng looked outside. It was a type of Secret Dharma Region structure commonly seen in the north. First was the fortified tower behind him, a three-story building with steep stairs and tiny windows. It had probably been painted before, but no one had painted it in recent years, and its original color could no longer be made out.

Lu Feng told them to dry their clothes by the fire first, while he took the medical monks, wooden buckets holding the medicine, and a ladle around the place, having everyone who had survived drink the potent medicine.

Wula Station was not small. At the very least, Lu Feng found an abandoned stable behind the tower. The packhorses they had rescued were inside it now. He counted them and found they had not lost many.

They had lost quite a few attendant monks, but it was still far better than the total annihilation Lu Feng had imagined. One could even say, cruelly, that they had not lost many people. Turning around from there, he saw the entrance to an underground storehouse. He opened it and looked inside, finding it clean and completely empty.

Continuing along the path ahead, he came back to the front of the fortified tower and saw the main gate.

The main gate had long since rotted away, and the little door to the fortified tower was in the same state. After making a circuit while chanting a mantra, Lu Feng asked what had happened afterward.

Zawa said that, thanks to the Bodhisattva's protection, the Lama had drawn away the "Dakini" behind them. That "Dakini" had chased after the Lama and soon vanished without a trace.

Nor had she done anything to those of them left behind.

As for the people who had become "the ghost's drudges," they had naturally been subdued by the Lama who stayed behind and disappeared without a trace.

Hearing this, Lu Feng nodded slightly, then chanted scriptures to pray for everyone.

In truth, an unsettling conjecture had also formed in his mind.

He had thought it was a celestial phenomenon-but after Elder Mingli took him away, the celestial phenomenon at the very rear, which even Elder Mingli had to take seriously, had followed them away as well.

From the sound of it, this did not seem like an accident. It seemed more as though it had come for him or Elder Mingli.

And Lu Feng knew very well that what Monk Zhiyuan was writing had to be secret text, recording everything they had seen and heard today in a scripture to be passed down.

Then the question was: in what they had encountered today, had Elder Mingli been the bigger draw, or had he?

Lu Feng did not know.

Just then, the sound of hoofbeats came from outside, echoing through the open space.

Lu Feng stood and saw a figure concealed between light and darkness. Mud-covered cowhide boots showed in the firelight, revealing the mark of the Endless White Pagoda Temple.

Lu Feng lowered his head.

Those cowhide boots were exactly like the ones he was wearing now.

Who was outside the door?

Lu Feng immediately thought of Monk Zhiquan, who had separated from them earlier in the wind and rain to scout the way ahead.

Had he arrived?