In Zhang Xiaofan’s eyes, the clouds in the sky—whether white clouds or dark clouds—had never been as close to the ground as the black clouds tonight. The thunder had never been so deafening, nor the lightning so dazzling, almost making it impossible for him to look straight at it.
It was as if the heavens were about to collapse.
He stood there in a daze, watching the black-clothed man and the old monk in the grass temple glare furiously at each other, poised to pit their spells against one another.
Suddenly, after a clap of thunder exploded, shaking his ears until they rang, he saw a brilliant bolt of lightning flash across the horizon. It actually struck down into the mortal world and landed upon the black-clothed man’s long sword.
In an instant, the black-clothed man’s robes billowed high around him, his eyes bulging wide as though they were about to burst. At that moment, under the fierce glare of the lightning, the inside of the grass temple was as bright as day.
The lightning blooming upon the sword’s tip in the night was so beautiful that Zhang Xiaofan held his breath, and in Puzhi’s eyes, that strange fervor appeared once more.
“Is this the mighty power of the Daoist true arts?”
The black-clothed man gave a loud shout. Where the sword-seal of his left hand guided it, he exerted all his strength and gave his wrist a violent shake. Thunder crashed, and the electric radiance upon the sword shot swiftly toward Puzhi. Along its path, grass, trees, bricks, and stones were all shaken and sent flying, leaving only a deep scorched mark in the center of the road.
Puzhi retreated three steps, withdrew his hand seal, and pressed his palms together. His face was solemn, his whole body giving off a faint golden light as he murmured, “My Buddha is merciful!”
With a sharp crack, the seven jade prayer beads remaining before him shattered all at once, transforming three feet in front of him into a huge character for “Buddha.” Golden light blazed from it, too dazzling to look upon directly.
The next moment, the electric light and that Buddhist character collided.
Zhang Xiaofan suddenly felt his heart give a violent leap, as though all the blood in his body had reversed its flow in that instant. His limbs went weak, he could not breathe, and he only felt that in that one moment, the wind stopped, the thunder ceased, and the entire world came to a standstill.
Then, involuntarily, he flew backward. Before he even had time to feel fear, he saw white light and golden radiance, dazzling beyond compare, far brighter than the sun in the sky. The entire grass temple split apart, with the two dueling figures at its center, and was blasted in all directions, even upward into the sky.
His heart felt utterly empty. All he could sense was the fierce sound of wind constantly sweeping past his ears.
He was afraid. Instinctively, he wanted to curl up, but he had the will and not the strength, and could only let himself drift toward some unknown place.
A thought surfaced in his mind: Am I going to die?
Violent terror suddenly surged into his heart. Cold sweat broke out all over his body, and he trembled faintly.
When death stands before you, how should you face it?
He fainted, losing all consciousness.
※※※
Puzhi slowly walked over, his steps unsteady, with Zhang Xiaofan and Lin Jingyu tucked beneath his ribs. Reaching a somewhat cleaner spot, he gently set the two children down. At once, pain wracked his entire body, as though he were about to split apart. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he collapsed and sat down.
He looked toward his chest. Through his scorched and foul-smelling monk’s robes, he could vaguely see that a mass of black qi had gradually closed around his chest, leaving only a tiny spot over his heart untouched.
He gave a bitter laugh and reached into his robe. His hand trembled violently, and only after quite some time did he slowly take out a red pill, about the size of a finger, utterly plain and unremarkable.
Puzhi sighed and said softly, “I never thought the Ghost Doctor would prove right after all. In the end, I still have to take this ‘Three-Day Certain Death Pill’ of his.”
He hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded once and swallowed the pill.
Then he raised his head and looked toward the distant mountains.
Rain at last began to fall from the sky.
Qingyun Mountain towered amid the wind and rain, indistinct and mysterious.
“Daoist arts truly are profound and wondrous, to be able to command the divine powers of the heavens. If they could be mutually verified against our Buddhist teachings, each drawing on the other’s strengths to make up for its own shortcomings, then surely the mystery of eternal life could be solved. What a pity that Reverend Daoxuan’s cultivation far surpasses mine, yet in the end, he is like my three senior brothers—unable to let go of sectarian prejudice, unable to set aside status and position. Alas!”
Puzhi let out a long sigh, drew back his gaze, and looked at the two children. By then, the rain had grown heavier, soaking their heads and faces. The grass temple had been blown to pieces in the duel just now, and there was nowhere nearby that could fully shelter them from the wind and rain.
His heart suddenly tightened, and he could not help worrying for the two children. Just now, he had forced his true essence into motion and, using Tianyin Temple’s wondrous skill, the Great Brahma Prajna, had borrowed the power of the Buddhist treasure, the Jadeite Prayer Beads, to produce a mighty demon-subduing force. Only then had he blocked that evil man’s incomparably powerful Divine Sword Thunder-Controlling True Art and struck back, severely wounding him and frightening him into fleeing. But with Puzhi’s own body already gravely injured, and having taken a blow from a Daoist wondrous art head-on, he was now like a lamp whose oil had run dry; even the final thread of life had been severed. At present, he was merely relying on the Ghost Doctor’s strange medicine, the Three-Day Certain Death Pill, to drag out his last breaths and extend his life by three days.
“Though that fiend was badly wounded, his foundation was not damaged. After I am gone, he will surely return to silence any witnesses. At that time, not only these two children, but perhaps the lives of everyone in the village will be in danger. This, this, this—what am I to do?”
Puzhi’s mind was in utter turmoil. His cultivation and attainments were extremely high, but first, knowing that he was certain to die had already thrown his spirit into disorder; second, he was worried for the lives of innocent commoners. Yet that fiend seemed to be someone of considerable status within Qingyun Sect. If Puzhi were to rashly go up the mountain seeking aid, he feared he would fail to accomplish anything and instead make matters worse.
But what he regretted most in his heart was still another matter: the great wish of his life, which he would not be able to complete. As one of Tianyin Temple’s Four Great Divine Monks, he was revered by the world and honored to the utmost. Yet to him, what mattered even more was to penetrate the mystery of life and death, and untie the knot of longevity. Only, as early as fifty years ago, he had already awakened to the fact that no matter how diligently he cultivated the Buddhist Dao and its teachings, he could only strengthen his power and cultivation, but could not unravel the mystery of life and death.
He had pondered bitterly over it, and after several decades, he had actually thought of an unprecedented method. In the world today, the three teachings of Buddhism, Daoism, and the demonic path were the most flourishing, and their attainment in the mystic arts was the highest and deepest. The demonic sects had vile reputations, and their evil arts were cruel and inhumane, not something decent people would take up. But Daoist wondrous arts were profound and marvelous, each excelling in its own domain alongside the Buddhist teachings. If the two could be studied together, they would surely be able to break through the impasse.
Only, he had never imagined that his three senior brothers, who had always been broad-minded, would oppose him with one voice, deeming it heretical and fanciful, and instead earnestly advising him against it without end. Unwilling to resign himself, he had visited famous Daoist sects several times. Qingyun Mountain alone he had ascended more than once, yet every time, he had been politely refused by Reverend Daoxuan, the sect leader of Qingyun Sect.
Thinking of this, he gave a bitter laugh, full of self-mockery. In his heart, he thought: I have only three days left to live, yet I am still thinking of eternal life. Is this not seeking trouble for myself?
Though he had let go in his heart, when he saw the two children still lying on the ground, he truly could not set the matter aside. For a time, he could not think of any good plan. He looked left and right and saw that in the distance there was still a pine tree, which might be able to block a little wind and rain—better than nothing. At once, he forced himself to rally, picked up the two children, and with difficulty walked over there.
After great effort, he reached the tree and carefully set the two down. Puzhi was already utterly exhausted. He dropped to the ground at once, leaned his back against the trunk, and panted without cease.
Heaven and earth are not humane; they treat all things as straw dogs!
This famous Daoist saying, carrying a trace of bleakness and indignation, slowly came from Puzhi’s mouth.
The firmament was like ink, covering the earth all around. Boundless black clouds pressed down overhead. Threads of rain fell from the sky, fine and dense, and when the cold wind blew, drop after drop struck his face, chilling him to the heart.
He gazed up at the firmament. Only after a long while did he slowly withdraw his eyes and look at the two children before him, saying softly, “Little benefactors, this old monk wishes to save you, but alas, I have the heart and not the strength. This matter began because of me, and in the end I have harmed you both. What a sin! Alas, if the two of you were Qingyun disciples, up on Qingyun Mountain, among so many people, perhaps you would be safer. But now…”
Suddenly, Puzhi’s whole body shook, and he murmured, “Qingyun disciples, Qingyun disciples…” His thoughts raced, as though he had seized upon something, only for it to slip away again in the blink of an eye. In that brief moment, a cold sweat had already broken out over him.
Then, for some unknown reason, that inexplicable fervor appeared in his eyes once more.
He threw back his head and laughed, yet there was a trace of madness in his laughter!
“Excellent, excellent! Though my life will not last much longer, if I teach one person the divine skills of Buddhism, then have him enter Qingyun Sect and cultivate Daoist arts, would that not achieve two things at once? It would both save their lives and fulfill my heart’s desire!”
“Since ancient times, Buddhism and Daoism have been separated by barriers, never associating even unto death. Qingyun Sect would never imagine that a young boy, one who has lived beneath Qingyun Mountain since childhood, would possess the great arts of Buddhism. As long as someone bears the learning of both schools in one body, he will surely be able to break through the mystery of eternal life that has endured for ten thousand years. Heh heh. If so, what regret would I have in death?”
Once the thought was decided, his entire person became incomparably excited. His cheeks flushed red, his eyes were bloodshot, and unconsciously his gaze fell upon Lin Jingyu. He reached out his hand. But halfway there, he stopped, thinking: This matter is of enormous importance. The various sects and schools of the present age are deeply bound by sectarian prejudices and extremely taboo against stealing another’s teachings. If it became known, and the matter was exposed, death would be certain. This child Lin Jingyu has excellent aptitude. If Qingyun Sect accepts him, he will surely receive great attention from his teachers. At such a young age, he may not be able to conceal this heaven-shaking secret!
At this thought, his heart stirred, and his gaze shifted to Zhang Xiaofan. He remembered the stubborn nature the boy had shown during the day, refusing to bow his head even in the face of death. He nodded and said, “If your aptitude is a little poorer, it does not matter. From now on, it will depend on your own fortune.”
After saying this, he hesitated no longer. He reached out and tapped Zhang Xiaofan several times, using his remaining Buddhist power to awaken him.
※※※
Zhang Xiaofan slowly woke. His vision was blurred, and his ears were still buzzing. Only after quite some time did he return to normal and make out what was before him. At once, he was startled, his mouth gaping open and unable to close.
He saw the old monk covered in wounds, sitting in front of him. The left side of his body seemed to have been burned by something, withered, scorched, and hideous. Black qi clouded his face, and he was filled with the aura of death. Yet for some reason, the old monk looked excited, his eyes full of smiles. He also saw his playmate Lin Jingyu lying to one side, unconscious.
“You… what are you doing?” Zhang Xiaofan was stunned for a long while before he stammered the question.
Puzhi did not answer. He carefully examined him, then asked in return, “Little benefactor, with the wind and rain so fierce, why did a child like you come to such a remote place?”
Zhang Xiaofan was startled for a moment, then said, “At dusk, I saw that you were still standing in the temple. Later, when I saw it was going to rain, and this place was so shabby, I thought it would be very cold, so I brought you something to eat.”
The corner of Puzhi’s mouth moved, and he pressed his palms together. “Amitabha, how good, how good. All things are fate, ordained in life long ago. My Buddha is merciful.”
Zhang Xiaofan asked curiously, “What are you saying?”
Puzhi smiled and said, “This old monk means that the little benefactor and I share a destined bond. Since that is so, this old monk has a cultivation method. Would the little benefactor be willing to learn it?”
Zhang Xiaofan said, “What is a method?”
Puzhi froze for a moment, then burst into laughter. He stretched out his withered hand, patted the boy’s little head, and said, “It is not really anything, just teaching you some ways to breathe and circulate your breath. After you learn it, you must promise me a few things. All right?”
Zhang Xiaofan half understood, but still said, “Go ahead.”
Puzhi said, “You must never speak of this matter to anyone else. Even your closest kin must not be told. Can you do that?”
Zhang Xiaofan nodded and said, “I understand. I won’t tell even if I die.”
Puzhi’s heart shook. Seeing that this child, despite his young age, had a face full of endurance and resolve, while the rain filling the sky fell like blades, like swords, like frost, soaking his small face, he appeared somewhat haggard.
Puzhi suddenly took a deep breath and lowered his eyelids, no longer looking at him. But he continued, “In addition, you must practice this method once every day, but you must not cultivate it in front of others. You may only do so in the dead of night, when all is quiet. Finally, unless you are at the brink of life and death, you must absolutely not use this art, or else a great disaster will follow.”
At this point, he opened his eyes again, stared at Zhang Xiaofan, and said, “Can you do it?”
Zhang Xiaofan hesitated for a moment, tilted his head, then scratched it, his face full of confusion. But in the end, he still nodded heavily.
Puzhi smiled faintly. Without another word, he began to teach him a set of mnemonic verses.
This set of verses was not especially long, only about a thousand characters, but it was dry, obscure, and difficult. Zhang Xiaofan exhausted all his effort and spent a full three double-hours before he finally memorized it all.
Only after Puzhi confirmed that he had thoroughly committed it to memory did he let out a breath of relief. His expression was now extremely weary. Looking at Zhang Xiaofan, he could not help revealing a look of affection in his eyes, and said, “This old monk has cultivated all his life and never once thought of taking a disciple. I never imagined that at the moment of my death, I would instead have a master-disciple bond with you. Speaking of which, you ought to know my name.” He paused, then said, “My Dharma name is Puzhi, and I am a monk of Tianyin Temple. Ah, child, do you know Tianyin Temple?”
Zhang Xiaofan thought for a moment, then shook his head.
Puzhi laughed despite himself and said, “You truly are a child.” Then, as if remembering something, he reached into his robe and felt around until he took out a deep purple bead. After looking at it closely several times, he handed it to Zhang Xiaofan and said, “Keep this bead carefully for now, and do not let outsiders see it. Once you have settled down in the future, find a deep valley or a cliff and throw it down. That will be enough. Also, the name I told you just now must never be spoken to outsiders.”
Zhang Xiaofan took the bead and said, “I understand.”
Puzhi stroked his head and said, “You and I share such a destined bond. Who knows whether we will meet again in the next life? Child, kneel and kowtow to me three times, and call me Master!”
Zhang Xiaofan looked at Puzhi and saw that he had already put away his smile, his face solemn. At once, he nodded in agreement, called out, “Master,” then knelt on the ground and kowtowed heavily three times. He had only just finished kowtowing and had not yet raised his head when he heard Puzhi laugh softly. Yet within that laughter was a deep sense of sorrow, suffering, and utter resolve.
Zhang Xiaofan was just about to lift his head and look at him when he suddenly felt someone strike him on the back. At once, his vision went black, and once again he lost consciousness.