Chapter 2. Asura (1)
At the foothills of Mount Qingyun. In the northwest region, about fifty li from the massive Heyang City, there was a small village called Caomiao Village. Home to roughly forty households, most of the people made their living cutting wood from the mountains and trading with the Qingyun Sect, receiving a few copper coins in return as they led simple, honest lives.
The people here usually regarded the disciples of the Qingyun Sect—who displayed remarkable talents and wondrous arts—as having attained mastery over the Dao and reached the realm of immortals, looking up to them in awe.
The Qingyun Sect also took good care of the common folk in the surrounding area and treated them quite well.
It was a day when dark storm clouds hung so low in the sky that they seemed to choke one's breath. From Caomiao Village, the towering Mount Qingyun could be seen, with strange rock formations at the tips of its peaks exhaling an ominous aura. However, the villagers, who had lived here for generations, had witnessed such sights countless times, so much so that even the children did not find it strange.
"Hey, you! Where are you running off to?"
A shout mixed with playfulness burst from a child's mouth. This boy appeared to be around twelve years old and possessed outstanding looks. Leading four or five children of the same age, he was chasing after another child.
The child running ahead looked one or two years younger than them and was slightly smaller in stature.
Yet this child, even while sprinting forward with all his might, would turn his head back from time to time, grinning and taunting them.
"Zhang Xiaofan! Stop right there while I'm asking nicely!"
The child running behind shouted loudly, but the child running ahead, Zhang Xiaofan, had no intention of stopping.
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
With those words, Zhang Xiaofan began to run even faster.
The children who continued running soon reached an old, dilapidated temple on the eastern side of the village. This temple was so decrepit at first glance that one could not tell how many years of wind and storms it had endured.
Zhang Xiaofan was the first to leap inside the temple, but he let his guard down and tripped on a wooden plank by the door, tumbling forward violently. The children who ran in after him giggled at the sight and immediately piled on top of Zhang Xiaofan, pinning him down.
The handsome boy at the forefront spoke with a triumphant expression.
"So we've finally caught you! This time, you won't have any excuses, will you?"
But Zhang Xiaofan, unexpectedly, narrowed his eyes and shouted.
"I can't admit defeat! You tricked me, big brother!"
The handsome boy answered with a bewildered expression.
"Me? When?"
Zhang Xiaofan pointed at the wooden plank he had tripped on earlier and answered.
"Can you boldly say that you didn't put this plank here, big brother?"
The handsome boy, Lin Jingyu, barked angrily at the interrogation.
"I never did!"
Even so, Zhang Xiaofan pouted, raised his head, and neither surrendered nor admitted his defeat. Lin Jingyu, fuming with anger, reached out and grabbed Zhang Xiaofan by the back of his neck, furious.
"You said you'd admit defeat if caught! And yet you act like this?"
Zhang Xiaofan pretended not to hear. Lin Jingyu's face turned red as he squeezed the back of Zhang Xiaofan's neck harder and shouted.
"Still won't admit it?"
With his windpipe pressed by Lin Jingyu's hand, Zhang Xiaofan began to have trouble breathing, and his face gradually flushed. Nevertheless, he stubbornly refused to say a word.
At this sight, Lin Jingyu grew even more furious, and the force in his hand steadily increased.
"Won't admit it? I said, won't you admit it!"
By this time, the other children realized something was wrong and all slipped outside the temple with intimidated faces.
In the end, only the two children, blinded by rage, remained inside the temple. What had started as play had escalated into a battle of pride, with neither side yielding an inch, and the atmosphere suggested a terrible accident was about to occur.
But just then, someone in the thatched temple recited a Buddhist sutra.
"Amitabha. Release that hand."
Then, a withered hand cut through the air, darting out abruptly, and tapped the back of Lin Jingyu's hand with a forefinger. Lin Jingyu felt as though he had been struck by lightning, goosebumps rising all over his body, and the strength in his hand naturally dissipated.
Zhang Xiaofan, who had been on the verge of passing out, gasped for breath.
The two boys stood in place, looking around, then recalled what had just happened and looked at each other. Gradually, fear crept into both their gazes.
"Xiaofan, something feels wrong. What is happening?"
At Lin Jingyu's words, Zhang Xiaofan steadied his breath and shook his head.
"Really? I'm fine... Hiiik! W-who are you?"
In the center of the temple, where the two boys' gazes landed, stood an old monk. His face was covered in wrinkles, and his body, concealed by tattered clothes, looked filthy.
The old monk held a blue jade prayer bead in his hand. This prayer bead was so transparent it was dazzling, emitting a faint blue light. The more than ten jade beads were all the same size, but peculiarly, among the transparent and crystal-clear beads, there was also a deep purple-black pearl mixed in, which was neither jade nor stone.
Without a word, the old monk carefully observed the two children. He gazed intently at Lin Jingyu in particular.
*This child possesses truly outstanding talent, so why is his temperament so foul?*
Then, Zhang Xiaofan abruptly took a step toward the old monk and asked.
"Um... who are you? I don't think I've ever seen you in the village before..."
Caomiao Village, being close to the Qingyun Sect, greatly revered the Dao, and Buddhist figures rarely had business there. This was why Zhang Xiaofan asked such a question.
The old monk glanced at the child, smiled at the corners of his mouth, and asked back.
"Little Bodhisattva, why did you refuse to admit defeat even when your life was in danger, stubbornly clinging on until this old man had to intervene? One wrong step, and you would have crossed the road to the underworld."
Zhang Xiaofan blankly reconsidered the old monk's words for a moment. There was logic in his words. Looking back on what had just happened, a great danger had approached right before his eyes, yet he had simply stood there in a daze.
Lin Jingyu looked up at the old monk with wary eyes, then pulled Zhang Xiaofan and said.
"Xiaofan, this old monk... seems a bit suspicious. It's best not to pay him any mind."
Having said that, he immediately grabbed Xiaofan and rushed out of the temple.
The other children waiting anxiously outside ran after them without even knowing what had happened.
* * *
Deep in the night.
Fierce winds filled the sky alongside thunder, lightning, and dark storm clouds, and a violent storm seemed ready to strike.
The old monk was still sitting on the bare floor of the thatched temple.
Raising his head to look into the distance, Mount Qingyun was barely visible, and no trace of human presence could be felt in any direction. Only the sounds of the typhoon and lightning filled the heavens and the earth.
Rough and violent winds blew, and a bolt of lightning split the air.
The thatched temple, sitting alone amidst the wind, was illuminated brightly.
The old monk stood before the temple door in such weather, raising his eyes to the heavens with a solemn expression. His brows were gradually furrowing.
A dark aura, which could not be told when it had sprouted in the western village, was swirling as if jet-black ink were gushing forth.
The old monk stood rooted in the center of the thatched temple, watching this dark aura.
Then, suddenly, the dark aura gradually began to swirl violently, breaking free of the village and approaching the temple at tremendous speed.
The old monk saw with sharp eyes that a child was wrapped within the dark aura. It was definitely the child called Lin Jingyu whom he had seen during the day.
The old monk's expression darkened in an instant.
Unable to simply watch any longer, he raised his gaunt frame without a moment's hesitation and threw himself into the center of the dark aura.
In the darkness. It was unclear from where the voice came or who had spoken, but a small voice was heard.
"Hey!"
Dull sounds echoed several times in the darkness, and before long, the dark aura remained suspended in the air above the temple, no longer swirling.
The old monk held Lin Jingyu under his arm and landed safely on the ground, but the back of his kasaya—the Dharma robe worn by monks—was badly torn.
Lin Jingyu's face could be seen between faint flashes of light. The child was breathing calmly with his eyes tightly shut. It was impossible to tell whether he was asleep or unconscious.
Without setting the child down, the old monk raised his head to look at the black aura in the air and spoke.
"For one so profound in the Dao arts, why would you do this to a child who knows nothing? You should well know this is a shameful act."
The black aura answered with a hoarse voice.
"How dare you interfere in my affairs—who are you?"
The old monk did not answer the question and continued speaking.
"This is below Mount Qingyun. If the people of the Qingyun Sect learn that such a savage incident occurred here, the aftermath will not be smooth for you."
In the darkness, the black aura snorted and sneered.
"Hmph! What do I care about the Qingyun Sect—a disorderly mob relying solely on numbers... Old man, if you're done talking, hand over the brat and be on your way."
The old monk calmly pressed his palms together.
"Amitabha. How can one who walks the path of cultivation turn a blind eye to injustice? Before dirt fills this old man's eyes, I cannot hand this child over into your clutches."
The voice in the darkness barked furiously.
"You bald donkey are digging your own grave!"
Matching their conversation, a streak of light flickered from the swirling black aura.
In that instant, a sinister wind blew around the thatched temple, and sounds brimming with malevolent energy surged forth.
The black aura shouted.
"Poison Blood Banner!"
The Poison Blood Banner was a powerful martial technique that drew upon the vital energies of the living to unleash the Poison Blood Corpse King.
Seeing this, the old monk's face flooded with anger.
"Vile creature. To think you would dare use the power gained through cultivation to bring harm to the world and injure humans—today, I absolutely cannot let you go!"
Inside the black aura, the hoarse voice that flowed out laughed mockingly at the old monk's words without answering.
Then, a great red light flashed sharply, and the smell of blood permeated the air. On the other side, a red banner fluttered eerily. The sounds of the evil aura gradually grew more spine-chilling. It was like the wails of countless vengeful evil ghosts crying out in the dead of night.
This sound, which sent chills down one's spine merely to hear it, seemed to pierce through the very joints of the bones.
"Die, bald donkey!"
A roar echoed from within the black aura.
The old monk saw a ferocious evil ghost's face appear atop the red banner.
The evil ghost's face had four eyes, all of them triangular. Baring sharp fangs, it let out strange sounds—"Kya, kya, kya, kya"—that seemed to pierce into the bones. Then, its four eyes flashed open simultaneously with a heavy thud, and it transformed from a spirit into a corporeal entity endowed with flesh. It leaped down from the banner, reeking of blood, and charged at the old monk.