Chapter 9#
Like Demon, Like Buddha#
At Gushan’s main peak, Mingguang Peak, sunlight spilled through the forest. The sect’s divine sword stood atop the mountain, with the majestic Dao Hall behind it. Yan Wushu followed the Sect Leader’s flying sword into the hall, seeing that except for Tingyun Peak, all peak masters were present.
Shen Yiru sat on the highest seat of the Sect Leader, uncharacteristically maintaining a proper posture, one hand supporting his chin, the other tapping lightly on the armrest, his eyes downcast, his brows furrowed. The other peak masters sat in chairs arranged in two rows, and Yuan Qu, as an elder of Mingguang Peak, stood behind Shen Yiru.
There was also a person standing in the middle of the hall.
This person wore a fog-blue Daoist robe, with very clear features, looking quite young but not childish, instead exuding a sense of capability and steadiness. Seeing Yan Wushu enter, he gave a slight nod:
“Senior Brother.”
His surname was Lin and his given name was Wu; he was Yan Wushu’s junior brother.
“Mm.” Yan Wushu responded, sat in the chair belonging to Xueyi Peak, fixed his gaze on the low table in the center, and asked: “Is this the Buddhist shrine?”
“Yes.” Lin Wu nodded and recounted the process of obtaining the object. “A few days ago, the Zen Sect in the Western Territory suffered a massacre; I presume you all have heard of this. This is a Buddhist shrine that was sealed within the Zen Sect, exceptionally evil and ominous. The Zen Sect feared this evil object would fall into the mortal world, so they found me in the Western Barrens, requesting Gushan to intervene and suppress it on their behalf.”
As Lin Wu spoke, Shen Yiru glanced at the shrine. The object slowly floated into the air, rotating from left to right so that everyone could see it clearly.
The shrine looked as if it had been burned, its entire body charred black. The outward-opening “door” had collapsed, obscuring the situation inside, making it impossible to discern which god or Buddha was enshrined. The carved incantations and talisman patterns were already broken, with black mist occasionally seeping from the cracks. However, the pressure within the Dao Hall was very heavy; before the black mist could float far, it was forced to dissipate.
Yet it could not dissipate the ominous aura upon it.
Yan Wushu pressed his folding fan against his chin and used his divine sense to probe: the thing struggling and crashing inside was originally a Buddhist object, but for some reason, it had fallen into a demonic state, and its level was not low, at least at the Taixuan Upper Realm.
Things that have fallen into a demonic state are always difficult to deal with, and this thing was an old object, at least a thousand years old.
Someone pointed out: “The seal is about to be broken.”
“The cultivation methods of Buddhism and Daoism are vastly different. It’s difficult to repair a seal set with Buddhist methods using Daoist means once it’s broken,” Tan Wenzhou said slowly, shaking his sleeves and lightly waving his feather fan. “Unless we break the seal first and then add a new one.”
Someone immediately shook their head: “Too risky. If anything goes wrong, it will endanger Gushan.”
Another person said: “What do Buddhist things have to do with our Daoist sect? We should return it to them.”
“But it concerns all living beings in the world,” Yuan Qu spoke up in refutation. “Besides, if we send it out, wouldn’t it make our Gushan appear incompetent?”
“Why not add another seal on top of it?”
“This shrine is so broken that it cannot withstand it.”
“Then build a barrier around it!”
“Is there enough time?”
Everyone was talking at once, reminding Yan Wushu of the scene he had witnessed outside Chaoyu Tower that day—a group of people also talking and arguing, and that Little Phoenix seemed to enjoy it.
Yan Wushu wasn’t the only one who thought of Xiao Man. Yuan Qu stroked his chin and said, “Speaking of Buddhism… perhaps we could invite that Phoenix Prince to come and take a look. Didn’t he practice at Dazhao Temple for many years?”
Tan Wenzhou waved his fan: “His Highness’s realm is too low; I’m afraid the help he can provide is minimal.”
Yuan Qu looked at Yan Wushu again, wanting to ask for his opinion.
At this moment, Shen Yiru spoke: “Wushu, what do you think?”
Yan Wushu stared at the shrine for a moment, turned his gaze to Lin Wu, and asked: “Where is the person who entrusted the shrine to you now?”
Lin Wu lowered his eyes: “He was extremely heavily injured. By the time he found me and gave me the shrine, he had already exhausted his last breath.”
The entire Zen Sect had been slaughtered, and the person who escaped with the shrine had died, meaning no help could be found from the Zen Sect. If the shrine wasn’t sent away, Gushan would have to solve it themselves.
Yan Wushu stepped down from his seat and walked slowly around the shrine: “This is a Buddhist seal from a thousand years ago; the method is indeed obscure and complex.”
An elderly peak master rolled his eyes: “That’s nonsense.”
“Doesn’t nonsense prove that I’m right?” Yan Wushu smiled and turned to the other side. “I’d like to ask to borrow a Dharma treasure each from Martial Uncle and Peak Master Ji.”
“Just say the word,” Shen Yiru said.
Yan Wushu: “I want Wanhe Lei and Buyi Xing.”
Both were Dharma treasures used for setting up illusion formations.
Wanhe Lei was a bell; legend had it that there were 108 illusion realms inside, which could torture those trapped within to the point that death was preferable to life.
As for Buyi Xing, it looked like a peach blossom branch, with clear dew drops even on the stems, but it was actually the semi-real illusion realm used by Baihua Peak to interfere with the brawl trial that day.
Shen Yiru and Peak Master Ji waved their hands, and the two Dharma treasures landed in Yan Wushu’s hands.
Following that, Yan Wushu took out another Dharma treasure and, with a flick of his wrist, the three treasures suspended in the air. He said: “First, create an illusion realm to trick this thing.”
At Xueyi Peak.
Xiao Man had finished lunch alone, put away the food box, and was slowly strolling around the lakeshore. Under the influence of Qu Hanxing and Mo Juntian, he had developed the habit of going for a walk after meals.
The mountain sparrow that liked to give Xiao Man fruit flew in from somewhere, first rubbing against his face, then landing on his shoulder, pacing back and forth.
“Chirp chirp chirp,” the sparrow cried.
Xiao Man understood its expression and had an apologetic smile: “I didn’t go to Baihua Peak today; it must have been hard for you to make the trip.”
“Chirp!” The sparrow flapped its wings and lightly bumped Xiao Man’s chin with its head, as if saying there was no need to apologize.
The midday sun was long, and Luoyue Lake did not reflect the moon.
The autumn scenery was different from the summer; the colors of the forests were no longer as deep as ink. The lush green that had draped the mountains for months had faded, turning into various shades of yellow, orange, and red.
Fallen leaves rose and fell in the wind. Xiao Man walked a circuit around Luoyue Lake, and when he returned to the lakeside pavilion, Rong Yuan suddenly appeared like the sparrow earlier, shouting “Your Highness.”
Xiao Man looked over. The little sword boy was holding a sword in his arms, smiling brilliantly.
“What are you doing here?” Xiao Man asked curiously.
“A few months ago, I asked a senior brother from Wumei Peak to forge a sword for me, and I finally got it just now!” Rong Yuan was very excited, jumping as he spoke. “Your Highness, the scenery at Luoyue Lake is wonderful. Can I practice my sword here?”
“Of course you can,” Xiao Man nodded.
Rong Yuan solemnly gave Xiao Man a salute: “Thank you, Your Highness!”
Xiao Man sat cross-legged on the roof of the lakeside pavilion as he had in the morning. Rong Yuan drew his newly obtained sword on the lakeshore and practiced a few moves Yan Wushu had taught him.
The morning light gradually shifted with time, and the shadows of the sun moved from west to east, growing from short to long.
Abruptly, a piercing sound came from the distant Mingguang Peak.
Clang—
Like a zither string suddenly snapping, the sharp sound grated against the eardrums of everyone in Gushan’s twelve peaks. Those with low realms like Rong Yuan were so startled that the swords fell from their hands.
He couldn’t even make a sound, only using both hands to tightly cover his ears, stooping over, his features scrunched together.
Xiao Man, however, was unaffected. He flew down in a swift movement to Rong Yuan’s side and cast a Heart-Clearing Incantation on him.
The sound came suddenly and disappeared just as quickly. After that uncomfortable feeling passed, Rong Yuan’s legs went weak and he sat on the ground, panting heavily, when he suddenly saw Xiao Man spit out a mouthful of fresh blood!
“Your Highness!” Rong Yuan was terrified, hurriedly scrambled up, and supported Xiao Man.
Rong Yuan said anxiously: “I’ll go get the Peak Master!”
Xiao Man’s complexion, which had finally improved after more than half a month of recovery, turned as white as paper at this moment, his lips turning a purplish-blue. His consciousness was dissipating; he forced himself to concentrate and grabbed Rong Yuan’s hand.
At Mingguang Peak.
The three Dharma treasures scattered in different directions shone with great brilliance, dazzling and eye-catching. Under the intense flow of spiritual energy, Yan Wushu’s black sleeves fluttered wildly. He was in the center of the Dao Hall, manipulating the Dharma treasures with his sword fingers, slowly closing in on the Buddhist shrine.
No sooner said than done.
Clang—
A piercing sound came from the Buddhist shrine, quickly spreading throughout all of Gushan!
The furnishings in the Dao Hall shook, the tree shadows outside the hall trembled, and the pained cries of disciples echoed across the twelve peaks. The Sect Leader and the peak masters all acted. Yan Wushu’s brow furrowed, and his sword fingers turned into a palm, making a “withdrawing” motion.
A dozen streams of spiritual energy suppressed the shrine, each carrying killing intent. The thing that had been struggling within the shackles finally settled down, landing on the ground with a thud, and after two tremors, there was no more movement.
Yan Wushu lowered his hand, his sleeves swaying slightly: “It’s temporarily sealed, but we’ll have to find another way next.”
“Can I leave it to you?” Shen Yiru asked.
“Yes.” Yan Wushu did not refuse and nodded to the person sitting at the highest point.
“Hard work, Martial Nephew.” Shen Yiru rose from his seat and, after speaking to Yan Wushu, turned to the crowd: “That will be all for today’s matters; everyone may disperse.”
The peak masters saluted Shen Yiru and departed on their swords.
Yan Wushu put the Buddhist shrine into his storage ring and stepped out of the hall. Lin Wu called out behind him: “Senior Brother.”
Yan Wushu and Lin Wu had known each other in their youth and had accompanied each other through many long years. Even if they had gone their separate ways for more than a decade due to some conflicts, they were still fellow disciples after all. If he truly ignored him, it would be a bit too unsightly.
Yan Wushu stopped in his tracks, turned his head, and acknowledged Lin Wu: “Mm.”
Lin Wu said: “It will soon be the anniversary of Master’s death, but I cannot stay until then. Could Senior Brother go with me to see Master now?”
Yan Wushu didn’t reply immediately. Lin Wu lowered his eyes and his lips curled slightly: “Naturally, it’s not because I’ve forgotten the way after being in the Western Barrens for thirteen years. I just thought Master would want us to go together.”
It must be said that there was some truth to these words.
Before Master died, his greatest hope was that they, as fellow disciples, could be close and friendly. For these thirteen years, only Yan Wushu had ever gone to pay his respects; the old man was probably fuming.
Yan Wushu turned his head to look at the sky outside the eaves, paused for a moment, flicked his sleeve, and walked forward: “Let’s go then.”