Chapter Forty-Six: The Taoist’s Divine Wind, Piercing Clouds and Marking the Cavern

The young monk was unwilling to give up. He had come at the command of the Buddha himself and was determined to claim Mount Dongyue today. After some thought, he decided he needed to clarify things fundamentally for Master Ren: he was already free from worldly attachments, had shaved his head and taken monastic vows, had offered his right index finger to the Buddha by burning it, and had made a great and solemn vow. He spoke up:

"Master Ren, the teachings of my Buddha are for the salvation of all living beings, far superior to your guarding of a dilapidated temple. To draw an analogy, what you practice is but a minor skill, sufficient only to save yourself—a mere elementary study. My Buddha’s dharma is boundless, his powers vast. With a single recitation of the Buddha’s name, one can reach the ends of the void and pervade all realms; it is akin to the Grand Academy. The difference is clear. I hope you can discern it."

Master Ren glanced at his former disciple, who now spoke at length against him. He felt an overwhelming sense of emotion—such senseless words, clearly lost. Had it not been for their past bond, he would have thrown him out long ago. He shook his head.

Seeing Master Ren shake his head, the young monk assumed it was a rejection of the boundless merits of Buddha’s salvation and grew angry. After all, even the Buddha could assume the wrathful aspect of Vajra. He said, agitated:

"You at most circle within the three realms, while my cultivation allows me to transcend them and escape the five elements. Never again will I suffer the pain of reincarnation. If you refuse to do meritorious deeds for my Buddha, you will descend to the Abyssal Hell after death, never to be reborn."

Master Ren was instantly enraged. His pursuit was immortality, yet the monk spoke of death and hell—was this not a curse? Furious, he barked:

"Get out!"

"You... Hmph."

The young monk had not expected such a reaction. He believed Master Ren to be deeply corrupted, beyond the reach of even his boundless Buddhist dharma. He snorted coldly and said:

"I come in the name of the Muni Buddha to guide you to the Western Pure Land, yet you remain ignorant and rebuke me. Though my Buddha opens the gate of expedient means and practices eighty-four thousand dharmas, for those with deep karmic obstacles like you, even to hear the Buddha’s teachings is a fortune earned over countless lifetimes. Yet you squander it, and after death, you will surely fall into hell."

Master Ren could no longer tolerate it. There was no common ground to be found, and he wondered what sort of Buddhism this monk studied. Forming the Divine Wind Seal with his fingers, he swept his sleeve, summoning a fierce gale that tossed the young monk out the door.

He shouted angrily after the monk:

"If you dare step onto Mount Dongyue, I will show you what it truly means to never be reborn!"

The young monk had not even time to react before a blast of Master Ren’s energy struck him, sending him uncontrollably from the pill chamber to the steps leading down the mountain. Before he could steady himself, Master Ren’s voice echoed after him, causing him to shudder in terror. He knew well the abilities of Master Ren—usually kind and gentle, but ruthless in killing, especially towards demons and monsters, employing all manner of cruel methods: soul extraction, spirit refinement, skinning and lighting the heavenly lantern—these were but the least of his skills. Remembering Master Ren’s methods, his legs went weak, and he tumbled down the stone steps.

Master Ren cast a cold glance outside, then turned into the kitchen in the back courtyard. He checked the rice jar—it was empty. The flour jar still had some left, enough for a few meals. Though he had cultivated a small plot, most of the harvest was given to those near starvation. He could endure a few missed meals and would hunt rabbits and pheasants to make jerky, gather wild vegetables and fruits, and thus survive the winter. Master Ren mused silently.

Shangguan Chuanyun arrived before two statues, each over ten feet tall, and stopped. One statue had an eagle’s beak and a high crown, draped in red robes, its visage fierce and imposing. The other had a square mouth and a tiger’s face, eyes wide open, clad in black robes, terrifying yet dignified.

Shangguan Chuanyun had read in books that these were the two guardian generals of the Dongyue Emperor’s temple, who had protected the site for thousands of years. Those harboring evil intentions would tremble in fear upon seeing them. Ordinary demons and heretics dared not set foot in the temple.

These two guardians were called Eagle and Tiger Gods; as for their true names, only those who had inherited the authentic guardian’s arts could know them.

Shangguan Chuanyun was admiring the awe-inspiring guardians when he suddenly saw someone tumbling down the mountain steps—a closer look revealed a half-dead monk.

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Shangguan Chuanyun wondered why a monk would come here. Yet, observing the monk, he saw not only martial skill and abundant internal energy, but also a mastery of Taoist true essence. How this monk had acquired Taoist cultivation methods was a mystery.

Given the dozens of yards of stone steps, a fall like this would surely cripple or kill him. Shangguan Chuanyun decided to save him first.

He formed the Thousand-Pound Seal with his hand, recited an incantation, and cast the seal upon the tumbling monk. Instantly, the monk stopped moving.

Shangguan Chuanyun examined his work and nodded in satisfaction. This Thousand-Pound Seal, handed down from the Three Mountains and Nine Dukes, expanded by Master Luban, was used for locking beams and restraining oxen. When the energy prohibition was cast, even a great water buffalo couldn’t move, let alone a person.

Though similar to a binding spell, it served well to halt the monk’s rolling. He then reached into the void and withdrew the energy prohibition from the monk.

This spell was unlike the immobilizing arts; it induced a short circuit in the mind, trapping the body, a form of suggestive guidance. But the Thousand-Pound Seal was different—it was a pure energy prohibition, and the more one resisted, the greater the counterforce. It could cause internal organs to churn and shift; used carelessly, it could even kill.

The monk groaned on the steps for a while, then gradually climbed up and moved his limbs, finding nothing broken. Having been struck by Master Ren’s energy, he was numb and unable to move, yet as he rolled down, he gritted his teeth and clung to his dantian to keep his body from falling apart, lest he break an arm or leg.

He felt he could barely hold on when suddenly a force hit him, stopping him on the steps, then vanished. The monk moved a bit and found he had only suffered superficial injuries. Looking around, he prepared to descend the mountain. Lifting his foot, he noticed a platform below, beside the guardian statues, where stood a youth in splendid brocade, with sword-like brows and starry eyes, his posture upright, a three-foot sword at his waist, a black box on his back.

The monk thought: perhaps this was the one who saved him. He leapt down to the platform, pressed his palms together, fingers pointed skyward, recited a Buddha’s name, and said:

"My monastic name is Lantern, thank you for saving me, benefactor."

Shangguan Chuanyun observed the monk, whose face was rosy and body strong, and replied,

"It was nothing."

Lantern the monk looked at Shangguan Chuanyun and thought: though he had failed to claim Dongyue, if he could convert this wealthy young man, judging by his attire—worth a fortune—and the sword at his side, worth at least ten thousand silver, he would surely receive generous offerings. Even a few thousand a year, perhaps. He spoke:

"I see you are blessed with wealth, yet recently dark clouds seem to gather overhead. If not resolved, you may face disaster."

Shangguan Chuanyun was taken aback—this monk was a charlatan. Having refined the Minor Elixir, his aura was entirely hidden, invisible except to masters of cultivation. This monk was clearly spouting nonsense to extort money.

He had encountered such people before; in his previous life, temple gates were full of them, fortune-telling for a few coins. Shangguan Chuanyun shook his head at Lantern the monk, signaling he needed no divination, and moved to ascend the mountain to visit the Dongyue Temple.

But the monk persisted, seeing the youth ignore him, hurriedly called out:

"Young master, every word I speak is true and I can resolve your troubles for free."

Shangguan Chuanyun sighed—still not finished. Such people were common at temple gates; as long as you ignored them, nothing would happen.

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He quickened his steps, taking two stairs at a time, heading up the mountain.

Lantern the monk grew anxious—such a wealthy patron was rare in decades; if lost, who knew when another would appear? He hurried after, calling out as he ran:

"Benefactor, my Buddha has transmitted the wondrous dharma of the Nine Grades Lotus, divided into upper, middle, and lower grades. Recite the Buddha’s name often, and you may enter the Pure Land. For expedience, young master, as a dragon among men, only ten recitations are needed to ascend to the Western Paradise."

Shangguan Chuanyun stopped. This monk was truly annoying. He had no interest in the so-called path to the Western Paradise; he’d rather wander than chant some mantra. He answered,

"I have no interest in your method for ascending to the Western Paradise. Monk, find someone who believes you."

Lantern the monk, still unwilling to yield, said,

"Young master, you have deep affinity with Buddha. With wholehearted devotion, you may enter the Western Paradise."

Shangguan Chuanyun’s face darkened. To ascend to the Western Paradise meant death; it was commonly said as “riding the crane to the west.” To claim someone had gone to the Western Paradise was to curse them. This monk was wishing him dead.

He glared coldly at Lantern the monk and said,

"Monk, wherever you came from, return there. If you say that again, I’ll send you to the Western Paradise myself."

Lantern the monk felt a chill down his spine under Shangguan Chuanyun’s gaze, as if being cut by knives. In a moment, he felt he’d walked through the gates of hell. He recited several Buddha names to calm himself. Remembering the punishment for insulting or threatening monks as written in the Three Breaks Sutra, he gathered his courage, confident in the Buddha’s protection, and said,

"Benefactor, you are slandering the dharma, disrespecting the scriptures, insulting and threatening a monk. This is a grave sin—slandering Buddha, dharma, and sangha leads to hell and karmic retribution. Today’s hell causes tomorrow’s hell. The sea of suffering is boundless; may you soon turn back to the shore."

Shangguan Chuanyun thought this monk was insane. He hadn’t provoked him, yet the monk kept dragging him toward death and cursing him. If he wanted to die, Shangguan Chuanyun would oblige.

Suddenly, Shangguan Chuanyun struck, turning and landing a punch straight to Lantern the monk’s temple. Before the monk could react, he was stunned.

Shangguan Chuanyun moved in and delivered a punch to the monk’s chest, blocking his energy.

Without time to think, the monk received a kick to the sacrum, causing his vital energy to stagnate. He muttered to himself that it was over.

Next, he felt a surge of energy pierce the mute gate at the back of his head, leaving him dazed and unable to speak, his mouth opening and closing in vain.

Shangguan Chuanyun, annoyed by Lantern the monk—though he didn’t bite, he was a nuisance—finally used the Sky-Penetrating Finger technique, pointing three inches above the monk’s crown and injecting a surge of energy into his Baihui acupoint.

Lantern the monk’s eyes rolled upward and he collapsed stiffly to the ground.