Chapter 41: Monk

Chapter 41: The Monk

Along the pitch-black dirt path through the woods, Li Huowang held aloft a torch, leading the others forward.

The sky was still dark, yet their lingering shock left no room for drowsiness; after all they had just endured, sleep was the furthest thing from anyone's mind.

Slabs of butchered horse meat were piled upon the donkey cart, which, aside from a few scraps of silver looted from the bandits' corpses, constituted Li Huowang's sole spoils of war.

"That's far enough. Let's rest here until daybreak; traveling these roads at night is far too perilous," Li Huowang commanded, and soon the torches were piled together to kindle a fresh bonfire.

"If you can't sleep, just close your eyes and rest. We have a long journey ahead tomorrow, so save your strength. I'll take the first watch."

As the clatter of donkey hooves and the shuffle of footsteps faded away, the dirt path was once again swallowed by silence.

Seated by the fire, Li Huowang turned to gaze back down the path they had come; it was engulfed in absolute darkness, and it seemed the old beggar would not catch up until he had finished burying every last corpse.

Reflecting on all that had just transpired, Li Huowang could not help but sigh inwardly at the sheer lawlessness of this land.

The myriad of bizarre and terrifying threats were dangerous enough, yet instead of banding together for warmth, his fellow men chose to slaughter one another.

He prodded the dying embers with his longsword, then grabbed a handful of firewood from beside him and tossed it into the flames.

As the hours slowly drifted by, those who had scattered into the woods gradually converged around Li Huowang's fire, and soon several smaller campfires flickered to life nearby.

None of the Lü family members were among the returnees, but Li Huowang was not in the least bit worried; when the bandits had first emerged, they were the quickest to flee.

Lü Zhuangyuan was indeed a seasoned veteran of the jianghu; no wonder such a miserly man had chosen horses to pull his cart—he had surely anticipated a predicament exactly like today's.

Time ticked away, and as the sky gradually brightened, the others began to stir, roasting horse meat for breakfast and preparing to embark on the next leg of their journey.

Regardless of whether horse meat was palatable, it was meat nonetheless, and it would serve well to replenish their depleted strength.

Just as they were tearing into their meal with hearty bites, a trembling figure emerged from the rear and shuffled toward them.

Recognizing the newcomer's face, Li Huowang's guard lowered slightly; it was the old beggar from before, who looked as though he had spent the entire night digging graves.

The morning dew had soaked his tattered monk's robe, leaving him shivering violently; he walked to a spot nearer the fire, squatted down, and curled himself into a tight ball.

Noticing Li Huowang watching him, the beggar offered a simple, guileless smile.

Recalling the man's selfless act of rescue the previous night, Li Huowang felt much of his hostility melt away.

Though he believed such a soft-hearted old beggar would struggle to survive in this perilous world, no one would ever shun the company of a genuinely good man.

Seeing Li Huowang hand him a steamed bun, the beggar hurriedly reached out to take it, chewing as he mumbled through a mouthful of food, "May the Buddha bless you."

Hearing this, Li Huowang's curiosity was instantly piqued. "Which Buddha are you referring to when you speak of the Buddha?"

"Huh? Isn't the Buddha just called the Buddha? Why would there be different ones?" The old beggar's eyes betrayed a hint of bewilderment.

"Ah, just eat. It's rare to find someone like you in this world. I just hope you aren't lying to me."

"How could I lie? I am a monk, and monks do not lie," the old beggar declared with absolute conviction.

"You only know how to chant 'Amitabha,' and you don't even know which Buddha you worship. What kind of monk does that make you?"

"Scholar Sun said monks shave their heads, so I shaved mine! Tailor Wang said monks don't take wives, so I never took one! Courier Liu said monks don't eat meat, so I abstained! And when I saw other monks chanting 'Amitabha,' I learned to chant it too. I've done it all, so why can't I be a monk?"

The old beggar seemed to care deeply about this matter, defending himself with stubborn persistence.

Hearing this, Li Huowang let out an amused chuckle; this man's pretense of being a monk was even more farcical than his own pretense of being a Daoist. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you are a monk."

The old beggar froze, holding his half-eaten bun as he looked at Li Huowang with solemn gravity. "Then tell me, what should a monk be like?"

Meeting the man's gaze, Li Huowang opened his mouth but found himself unable to answer; there seemed to be a sliver of profound truth hidden within the beggar's great folly.

For some inexplicable reason, Li Huowang saw a shadow of Danyangzi in him—a blind, ignorant, yet steadfast persistence.

"I take it you don't know how to read?"

"How did you know? Are you Daoists all so gifted in divination?"

"Heh."

"Why are you so obsessed with becoming a monk?"

"If a monk hadn't saved me back then, I'd be dead and gone. From that day on, I swore I'd become a monk too! I am determined to be a good monk!"

As he spoke, Li Huowang spotted the Lü family troupe hurrying back from the distance; he dusted off his backside, stood up, and walked over to them.

The rest of the journey passed without incident, and the old monk followed along the entire way; whenever Li Huowang saw him reduced to chewing raw wild herbs out of hunger, he would occasionally toss him a steamed bun or two.

After traveling like this for over ten days, a city far more magnificent and grand than Jianye appeared before Li Huowang's eyes—they had finally reached the Western Capital.

The sprawling, towering walls of grey brick were immensely imposing; standing at the gates and looking up, a tremendous sense of oppression washed over him. "Are we finally here?" Seeing the city gates, Li Huowang finally let out a breath he had been holding; despite the constant dread along the way, the scenes from his nightmares had mercifully failed to materialize.

"Young Daoist Master, you can't just stay at any inn in the Western Capital; they'll fleece you. Let me take you to one that's absolutely cheap," Lü Zhuangyuan said, moving toward the towering gates, only to be held back by Li Huowang.

"Wait, where is that monk temple you mentioned before?" Li Huowang asked eagerly, for this was the most crucial purpose of his journey to this place.

Guided by Lü Zhuangyuan, Li Huowang made his way toward Zhengde Temple, the most heavily incensed and revered monastery in the Western Capital.

Before the temple even came into view, Li Huowang caught the distinct scent of sandalwood unique to Buddhist sanctuaries, and the broad streets began to grow crowded.

There were old men, women, adults, and children—people of all walks of life.

Seeing the thick bundles of incense sticks they carried in their hands, Li Huowang immediately understood that these people were all on their way to worship the Buddha.

"Is the incense at this temple always this abundant?"

Hearing Li Huowang ask Lü Zhuangyuan this, a nearby pilgrim leaned in to interject, "Of course it is! The Bodhisattvas at Zhengde Temple are incredibly efficacious! My daughter-in-law conceived right after praying here just once."

"And the masters at Zhengde Temple are very kind; every few days, they distribute porridge to the poor."

"Yes, yes. To have such a wonderful temple in the Western Capital is truly a blessing accumulated over many lifetimes."

(End of Chapter)