The One Who Subdued the Tsen Demon!
"Um?!"
Hearing voices behind him, Deqin turned around and saw Zhou Yang not far away.
At this moment, he must focus all his attention on dealing with the demon Zhuoma Zhuoma, who has already transformed into a "transformed demon". He must use all his strength to kill her!
Otherwise, he would have been free to kill Aji.
This crazy Aji, despite being cursed, didn't die!
"Thank you, I bow in reverence!"
Zhuoma, hovering in the distance, sang as she thanked Zhou Yang.
It then stretched out its two arms again, which swam over in an instant and wrapped around Deqin's neck, lifting him up into the air. "Evil fire! Evil fire!"
Burn her!
Deqin glared angrily, raising the Divine Lion Bronze Plaque in his hand once more!
But the bronze plaque no longer emitted the slightest red light!
He panicked and immediately took out the Elephant King Nine Palaces, shouting hoarsely, "Elephant King, protect me! Elephant King, protect me!"
The Elephant King's bronze medal received no response!
At this moment, no matter how many magical artifacts he possessed, whether it was the Elephant King Nine Palaces or the Meteoric Iron Garuda, all of them were useless!
Deqin gasped for breath for a moment, his mind going completely blank!
Zhuoma lifted him up, raising him higher and higher!
In this boundless emptiness, only one thought remained in Deqin's mind, constantly swirling around. "Why?"
Why does Aji seem to be able to communicate with the Tsen Demon?
"Are there truly people in this world who can communicate with the Tsen Demon?"
"Bang!"
With his face turning purple and his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, Deqin stretched out his purple tongue as Zhuoma released his arm and he fell directly from mid-air. His body crashed onto the rocks, covered in blood, and countless bones in his body were broken!
Deqin died on the spot!
"Waaaaaah----waaaaah----"
The celestial Zhuoma, like flowers, drifted down and landed on the yellow-green meadow.
She sobbed softly, her two soft leather arms swaying.
She was in the grass, as innocent as a little girl going for a spring outing.
"Father, Father----"
Uncle, Uncle----
"It hurts so much, it hurts so much!" Please hug me, please hug me.
Zhuoma's sobs suddenly became more intense.
Two leather arms stretched out, dragging her face covered in blood and tears, and in an instant, they passed through the wind and rushed towards Naren Brothers was tumbling and crawling down the mountain!
"Your daughter, let you two hold her!"
Zhou Yang stood still and threw the three collected Mantra Point into Ghost Ten Hands. He looked at the Naren Brothers, who were crying and running away, and kindly reminded them, "She just wants you two to hug her!"
"Give her a hug, maybe everything will be alright!"
"You're insane! You're insane!"
Naren heard the alternating singing of Zhuoma and the shouts of the mad Aji behind him, and he also cried out, tears streaming down his face.
There was no sadness or remorse in any of the tears.
But with death looming and nowhere to escape, the despair brought tears to his eyes.
As he ran, he caught a glimpse of Qu Quzeng, who was not far away from him, and suddenly stopped. Quzeng had layers of skin wrapped around his neck.
A slender hand, devoid of bones and flesh, gently cradled Quzeng's chin, lifting him upwards.
Quzeng is dead!
"Quzeng is going to die!"
A thought exploded in Naren's mind!
He ran even more frantically, determined not to stop even if it broke his legs!
only----
Why is there only skin from one arm?
"Only one arm's worth of skin was wrapped around Quzeng's neck."
Where did her other arm go?
Naren was thinking this, he suddenly felt a slippery, cool, snakeskin-like sensation wrapping around his neck!
He stopped abruptly.
He heard his daughter, who had just been given a name, whisper in his ear, "She's here, Father."
"Zhuoma's other arm is here."
"Zhuoma! Zhuoma!" Naren's eyes welled up with tears, and snot and drool flowed down his face as well. "I was wrong, Father! I was wrong, Father!"
"Father regrets it!"
"I shouldn't have sent you to see the lama, I was wrong, Father!"
Zhuoma giggled. "I saw it, I heard it."
"Father's eyes know they were wrong, Father's nose knows it was wrong, Father's mouth knows it was wrong."
But I can't see my father's heart.
"Does Father know he was wrong?"
"I know I was wrong, I know I was wrong!" Naren thought that Zhuoma had given him a chance, and a light suddenly flashed in his mind. He readily agreed and shouted, speaking earnestly.
"Then let Zhuoma see her father's heart."
Look at your father's heart!
Zhuoma sang with a smile.
"How do you see the heart?" A thought crossed Naren's mind.
Before he could understand what was happening, the slender hand that was supporting his chin slowly moved, approaching his lips, parting his mouth, and slipping inside. A cool, slippery sensation appeared on his tongue.
That cool, slippery sensation gradually swam down his throat and into his chest.
In that instant, he heard his own heartbeat growing clearer. "Thump thump thump! Thump thump thump! Thump thump thump!"
Amidst the pounding of his heart, Zhuoma cried out, "Father's heart knows no wrong—"
"Father has no regrets."
"W-what?!" Naren's eyes Da Le in shock!
He felt a pain erupt from his chest, suddenly piercing his soul!
"Bang!"
In a daze!
Naren heard a popping sound in his chest!
The small hand that slid into his chest invaded his body, and waves of excruciating pain assaulted Naren's mind!
His vitality also receded like the tide!
But his heart was still beating; he wasn't dead yet!
All that remained was the pain of enduring it – Zhuoma stayed until the very end, finally taking away his life!
"Bang!"
Naren's vision went black!
There was no dawn in his sight!
Under a blue sky, on a green meadow.
A gentle breeze was blowing as the vultures circled the sky burial platform, waiting with great boredom.
Quzeng and Naren stood in the meadow. Sometimes, when the wind blew, the wild grasses stood up straight, almost reaching their waists.
Sometimes the wind blows, and the wild grass bends low, tangling around the hem of their robes.
The two brothers stood there for a long time.
Blood began to flow from his eyes, nostrils, and mouth.
Beneath the robe, pools of blood gradually began to form.
"Waaaaah, waaaah----"
Zhuoma transformed into a blood-soaked little person.
She stood between her father and uncle, her figure obscured by the grass, yet she was also quite far away from them.
She wanted to hold her father's and uncle's hands, but she could never reach them.
There is no place for her here anymore.
"Namo Amitabha Night----"
Just then, the wind carried the sound of an old man chanting mantras.
A familiar male voice called out to her, "Zhuoma, it's time to go, let's set off, hurry up."
She turned around abruptly, the wind blew past, pressing down the wild grass and revealing the tall mani stones piled up beside the sky burial platform.
Beside the mani stones sat an old man Gonpo, his eyes closed and tears streaming down his face, being urged by his mad disciple to chant the mantra for rebirth in the Pure Land over and over again.
Standing next to Gonpo was the madman Aji.
He kept waving at Zhuoma: "Come on, let's go, we're going to heaven."
Zhuoma's eyes were gaping, bloodshot, and her vision was filled with a fierce and savage crimson.
But when she looked at the madman Aji, she saw slivers of bright light flowing from between his brows, as brilliant as gold. Nine slivers of light surrounded Aji's figure, like a candle flame in this blood-red world.
The candlelight was lush and vibrant.
Thank you so much! I'm deeply grateful!
"Please send me to heaven!"
Zhuoma greeted it gently, her heart filled with joy, and she skipped and hopped towards the light.
The bloodied little figure suddenly seemed to transform into a barefoot girl wearing a tattered, patched robe. She laughed innocently in the mountains and ran towards Zhou Yang like a swallow returning to its nest.
But this beautiful scene vanished in an instant.
The wind that had been blowing through the mountains had stopped at some point.
On the sky burial platform, a shrunken sheepskin bag lay askew, and on the bag lay a bloodied little figure.
It has no skin covering its body.
Gonpo opened his eyes, staring in astonishment at Zhuoma's corpse on the platform, then turned to look at his mad disciple with even greater astonishment.
He hadn't expected that his apprentice would actually bring Tsen Demon back.
Shapeshifting Tsen! It's back to its original corpse form!
"It's our turn to get to work!"
Zhou Yang also turned his face and smiled at Gonpo.
Gonpo could hardly understand what was happening; he could only interpret it as some kind of divine event occurring at this moment.
No one could communicate with the Tsen Demon.
But it seems his own apprentice did just that, making Tsen Demon listen to him!
Gonpo shook his head, stood up from beside the mani stones, climbed onto the sky burial platform, and said to Zhou Yang, "When I am dismantling the body, you must watch carefully and learn diligently, don't miss a single glance!"
"Dismantling corpses is terrifying. Many sky burial practitioners, even those who have been doing it for a long time, may go insane because of it and suddenly commit suicide."
"But this is our job, we can't not do it."
Treat this as a form of spiritual practice!
"The monks in the temple, and those ascetics wearing bear hats, all practice in the charnel ground, watching the corpses rot before their eyes, contemplating the impermanence of life and death. This is a very profound form of contemplation. You consider dismantling corpses as a form of contemplation too----"
"This time you can just watch from the sidelines; next time, you'll be the one dismantling the corpse with me."
"Visualization----"
This was the first time Zhou Yang had heard the word "contemplation" from the people there.
During the Revelation Ceremony, the fat is washed over the body, and the spiritual energy contained within it will continuously wash over the consciousness of the living, causing the living person's personality to change, becoming completely different from before, and even turning them into a ghost-like person.
Luan Xiaofeng once said that one must have the Visualization Method in order to gather one's own consciousness and not be easily overwhelmed by worldly desires.
Zhou Yang had always sought such a Visualization Method, and now it was actually within his reach?
He nodded, looked at the deceased on the sheepskin bag, and then asked Gonpo, "If a person who died violently without a complete skin is sky-buried, can the Dakini send them to heaven?"