Chapter 629: The Long Night Fades Away (8)

Chapter 629: The Long Night Fades Away (Eight)

The night was deep and still; the village had long since fallen asleep.

The newly promoted tribal youth, brimming with excitement, could not sleep all night, and could only practice the fist his master had taught him by day in the open space, expending his surplus energy.

Before he could finish a set of forms, Jiqing was astonished to discover a lone stranger entering the village.

“Mother, where have you come from?”

The woman stood stiffly several zhang away, her face reddened and cracked by the cold wind, her thin robe patched all over, hanging on her gaunt frame, making her look hollow.

“Little lad, I am from Nagchu City. Someone in the city did wrong and drove away the Nagchu Buddha, so I have been prostrating myself all the way to the southwest, hoping to beg the Buddha’s forgiveness. I am exhausted; I just want to find a place to rest. If you mind, I will leave now.”

The woman’s chapped lips forced out a strained smile; that short sentence seemed to drain the last of her strength, her figure swaying as if she might stumble and fall.

“Careful.”

Jiqing hurried forward, extending his hand to support her, and slowly they sat down on the steps before the temple.

“Mother, stop kowtowing; there is simply no Buddha in this world.”

“Child, what nonsense are you spouting?”

The woman’s voice trembled with extraordinary fear, her hands clasped tightly before her forehead, murmuring prayers; even after she had steadied herself, her body lurched as if to collapse onto the ground.

“Buddha above, this child is still young; I beg you to forgive his transgressions.”

Jiqing gripped her tightly, his pure eyes filled with helplessness.

Just as when facing the village elders, he had no idea how to explain the existence or non‑existence of Buddha.

But even if there truly were a Buddha in this world, it certainly would not be those wearing red robes.

“Mother, I spoke wrongly; please don’t be upset.”

Jiqing helped her sit properly, his right hand rummaging in his bosom for a while before sheepishly producing a cold, hardened lump of tsampa and offering it to her.

“Mother, eat a little for now; once you’ve rested, I’ll take you home for some warm food to warm your body.”

Jiqing laughed heartily: “My sister’s butter tea is fragrant; you simply must try it.”

“Thank you.”

The woman thanked him repeatedly, her clasped hands holding the lump of tsampa, staring fixedly at the utterly guileless boy before her.

“Boy, aren’t you afraid I’m an escaped Buddha‑slave, and that my presence will bring punishment upon your whole village?”

“Mother, we are tribal folk; we belong to no one’s slave.”

Jiqing’s expression turned serious: “Our master once said, we are all two shoulders bearing a head, who—”

Jiqing bit back the words he was about to blurt out, then said: “What our master meant is that nobility and baseness come from the heart, not from fate. We tribal people have already suffered enough; from now on we must help each other. Even if you have fled, we have nothing to fear.”

“Master?”

The woman wondered: “Do you all in your village address your teacher of scriptures this way?”

“Our master is not a monk; he wears a long gown, not a red robe.”

Jiqing plopped down on the steps, his face lighting up with yearning.

“Our master comes from a scholar of Zhili in the north; that is a place of wealth and prosperity. When I have mastered my fist, I too will go see it!”

“Boy, do you know what wealth and prosperity mean?”

The woman bowed her head, gazing at the tsampa in her hands; her slow tone carried an inexplicable meaning.

“I don’t know.”

Jiqing scratched his head and chuckled: “Our master hasn’t finished his lessons yet; he had to leave the village temporarily on business. But I’m sure there are endless pastures and herds of cattle and sheep there, and more barley than one could ever eat.”

“Boy, you are wrong. There are no pastures, no cattle or sheep there—only buildings as tall as mountains and roads as wide as rivers.”

The woman whispered: “If you went there, the people would despise you as dirty and poor, and would do everything they could to drive you out.”

“Is that really so?”

Jiqing gave a nonchalant “oh,” slipped both hands into his filthy robe, and smiled: “But it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?”

The woman’s voice rose: “What if they beat you and insult you—what would you do then?”

“No need to think; of course I’d strike back and retort.”

Jiqing’s right hand shot out from his robe, clenching tightly into a fist.

“Why must you go argue and fight with them? Wouldn’t it be better to stay here?”

The woman advised: “Here we have pastures to feed your cattle and sheep, and family to brew you sweet tea. When you grow up, you will meet a beloved maiden amidst fields of blooming Gesang flowers. The wealth and prosperity there is not what you imagine.”

“Mother, because someone will come to raid us.”

Jiqing fixed his gaze on his fist: “I have only to go out so that my sisters may live better at home.”

“And who would come to raid?”

Jiqing gave an embarrassed chuckle: “I’m afraid if I say it, Mother, you’ll be displeased, so I’d rather not.”

“I understand what you mean. But such things will never happen again; those false Buddhas have already received their due punishment and will not return.”

The woman said: “We tribal folk ought to live on this plateau; this alone is our home.”

Jiqing said nothing more, merely pulling his hands back out of his sleeves.

The woman turned her gaze to the temple behind her: the prayer flags on the eaves were tattered, the prayer cylinders beside the walls were coated with frost, the incense in the burner had gone out, and the painted murals on the walls had been hacked to pieces.

“Boy, what of the Buddha in this hall?”

“This is no longer a hall for worship; it has become a private school where our master teaches us.”

The woman let out a long sigh: “You ought not to do this; the Buddha will be angry.”

“Mother, aren’t you hungry? Why won’t you eat?”

The boy’s sudden question startled the woman; her bewildered gaze met his clear, limpid eyes.

“I”

Bang!

A coarse fist smashed squarely into the woman’s face, cutting off her words with a dull thud.

“Jiqing, what are you trying to do?”

An icy, piercing gaze locked onto the tiger‑cub‑like boy.

“You actually know my name—you must be one of those beasts in disguise, trying again to deceive us; do you really think I’m foolish?”

Buddhist fervor surged instantly, hurling the boy airborne.

“A shameless, face‑less wretch!”

A venomous whisper lingered at his ear; in Jiqing’s shocked stare, a spiky, bone‑capped fleshy tendril sprouted from the woman’s back, flashing like lightning and thrusting toward his head.

Pfft!

A slender, fair hand swept across his vision, severing the tendril in mid‑air.

Ji Qing, having snatched back his life, collapsed on the ground, sweat pouring down his body like rain, gasping heavily.

"A kid who just stepped into the sequence dares to lay hands on her? Where does he get such gall?"

A voice laced with amusement sounded behind him; Ji Qing turned and beheld a face of indescribable beauty.

For no reason, Ji Qing felt from her a genuine kindness, like a spring breeze, and a sense of closeness welled up within him.

"What's there to fear? At worst we die. Treasure Village is no longer the Treasure Village of old, and we are no longer the former Buddhist slaves; whoever tries to bully us now is utterly out of luck!"

The youthful face uttered heroic words, eliciting a soft laugh from the woman.

"You lone martial sequencers are all cut from the same mold."

Ji Qing didn't know why she laughed, but he had no time to ponder it; his lingering-wariness gaze swept over the still-twitching tentacles on the ground, and he resolutely rose to stand before the woman.

"Big sister, step back; I'll handle this!"

Ji Qing's words had barely left his lips when the world spun, and he thudded to the ground.

Yuan Mingfei waved her hand lightly; a chill breeze drifted forth, lifting the boy gently and carrying him far away.

"Lin Jiabao, we meet again."

The woman stared fixedly at Yuan Mingfei, whose demeanor was utterly unlike before, her face dark and grim.

"Second Sequence Buddha, Ten Directions Bodhisattva?"

Yuan Mingfei snorted, "This is the pit you dug yourself, the trap you set; do you really not know whether I can advance?"

"Without promotion, one can still condense a body with intent and precisely locate my reincarnation in such vast lands—this method."

Lin Jiabao's face broke into a cold smile: "It seems the difference between second and third is truly as vast as heaven and earth."

Yuan Mingfei ignored her words and demanded: "Lin Jiabao, doing a good deed for you—could it really be that hard? You won't even spare a child."

"A child?"

Lin Jiabao clenched her five fingers; the barley cake in her palm instantly ground to powder, sifting through the gaps.

"On this land there may only be devoted Buddhist followers and domesticated livestock; someone like him, whose heart is corrupted, is not even fit to be livestock, and has no right to continue existing in this Buddha-land."

"Buddha-land?"

Yuan Mingfei scoffed: "Just because you say it, does it make it so?"

Lin Jiabao, in a tone of utter self-evidence, declared loudly: "I am the future Buddha of this realm; the fate of this land is naturally mine to decide!"

"Up on the holy mountain you spoke so righteously, claiming you wished to redeem the sins you committed against the barbarians, yet from start to finish it was nothing but deceitful nonsense."

Yuan Mingfei asked: "What difference is there between you and those who besieged you to kill?"

"You have no right to say that to me, Yuan Mingfei; aren't you also a vested-interest party? Don't claim you never squeezed these Buddhist slaves—when you became a Sequence Buddha on this plateau, your hands were already stained with their blood!"

"Yuan Mingfei, between us there is merely an exchange of interests; your reason for coming up the mountain cannot possibly be for these lowly barbarians—so don't plaster glory on your face, nor stand so high."

Lin Jiabao snorted: "If you were truly compassionate, you wouldn't risk soul-scattering to come find me. The karmic mind you've cultivated and mine are no different—both are just to win."

"I don't want to win."

Yuan Mingfei said calmly: "I only want to kill you, to cleanse this land completely."

"You want to kill me? You can't do it."

Lin Jiabao wore a sneer: "The flesh-and-blood field within your true form must be on the verge of losing control, eh? Yuan Mingfei, you're nothing but a mud Buddha trying to cross the river—how much strength do you really have? Fourth Sequence or Third? What do you have to stake in a mutual annihilation with me?"

"When the hare is dead, the hound is cooked. Lin Jiabao, do you truly believe the state will hand over my flesh to you, aiding your ascent to Second Sequence Buddha?"

"That question is not for me to answer."

Lin Jiabao gave a faint smile; the ground beneath her feet suddenly burst forth with scarlet flesh, like tiny snakes drilling into the hem of her robe.

Her figure swelled rapidly, straining the ample barbarian robe to its limits, as masses of flesh piled at the nape, outlining a human head.

Amid a chilling, writhing sound, the head sprouting from Lin Jiabao's neck gradually clarified, forming an aged visage.

And there, unmistakably, was the state leader who ought to have perished on Sangyan God Mountain—'Heaven's Timing' Yin Ji!

"I will of course keep my promise."

Yin Ji gazed at Yuan Mingfei with a smile in his eyes and sighed: "Funny enough, it's you who's truly beyond my expectation. Since you saw through our scheme, why come alone, hiding from Li Jun? Is it because you don't want him to keep courting danger, or because you can't bear to let him witness your demise?"

"I too am a barbarian; the affairs of this land began because of me, and naturally they should end by my own hand."

Vibrant gesneria blossoms unfurled one after another at Yuan Mingfei's feet, spreading toward the surging flesh-fields.

The flesh-waves rose and fell; splashed blood stained the petals, which withered and corroded in the blink of an eye.

Before the ruined temple, demon and Buddha faced off.

On one side lay a paradise of blossoming splendor; on the other, a hell of churning blood.

"Yuan Mingfei, why cling so obstinately? You haven't ascended to Second Sequence Buddha, and you still pour most of your energy into suppressing my field within your body; surely you see you lack the power now to finish this."

Yin Ji chuckled: "Let me say, you'd be better off returning to Sangyan God Mountain, cherishing this brief spell, bidding farewell to your companions. Otherwise, once your inner wisdom fully matures, you will simply dissipate from this world."

Yin Ji paused, as if suddenly recalling something, and smiled: "Besides, you needn't worry too much; they won't notice your death, for Lin Jiabao will live on inside your body, ruling the great Buddha-land about to be born."

"Yin Ji, that body was originally mine." Lin Jiabao said, dissatisfied.

"I spoke incorrectly."

"Having confirmed you share one body, I am reassured."

A calm voice cut through their mockery.

Yuan Mingfei's earlier words seemed merely to await Yin Ji's appearance, so as to ensnare him and Lin Jiabao together.

Gesneria blossoms kept pushing forth stubbornly within the flesh-fields, gradually gaining the upper hand in the struggle.

Witnessing this, Yin Ji's expression darkened abruptly, his icy gaze flicking toward the nearby Lin Jiabao.

"Yuan Mingfei, it looks as if you intend to abandon that flawless vessel entirely, burning your soul to perish alongside us."

Lin Jiabao, fellow Sequence Buddha, instantly saw through Yuan Mingfei's present intent.

"How long can you endure such agony?"

"To liberate you is enough."

Yuan Mingfei's complexion turned pallid to near-transparency; the wild, blooming sea of flowers devoured the flesh-fields, engulfing the twisted, symbiotic, grotesque form.

Lin Jiabao regarded the flowers now creeping to her feet with disgust, speaking coldly: "Yin Ji, do you understand? It's no extraordinary trick—just bring her to her senses."

As the words fell, a wave of pain more intense than soul‑burning surged into Yuan Mingfei's mind.

Her figure trembled incessantly; phantom blood‑flesh tendrils writhed behind her, bursting from her limbs, as if they might tear her apart at any moment.

The gesneria sea that had held the advantage collapsed in an instant, becoming fodder for the expanding flesh‑fields; the flesh surged, rolling downward.

"You are not yet a Second Sequence Buddha; having divorced bodily awareness, you are merely rootless wood."

Lin Jiabao's eyes narrowed slightly, regarding Yuan Mingfei with contempt: "And you think I never imagined you'd come looking for me? How laughable."

"Melon‑wife, you're laughing at a hammer."

A faint light began to gleam on the horizon when a piercing shriek split the air, followed by a roar like thunder, uttered in a fierce Sichuan‑Sichuan accent.

A black‑red bolt of lightning tore the night sky, plummeting from on high, piercing the surging flesh‑wave; its violent wind pressure toppled the scripture barrels by the wall and shredded the prayer flags on the eaves.

Amid the swirling clouds of smoke and dust, Li Jun stepped forward, a grim grin etched upon his face.

"I've been wondering why I couldn't snag any points, you old bastard—turns out you're really not dead."

"How could you—"

Yuan Mingfei's expression flickered, a mix of joy and sorrow, too complex to put into words.

"Auntie, you're a woman—I understand you. But for now, don't ask anything."

Little Li Hua, palm‑sized, perched on Li Jun's shoulder, hands on hips, spoke in a childishly soft voice that sounded eerily old‑fashioned.

"Old Li, beat these two brats to death for me!"

Lightning erupted, tearing apart this feeble field of millet.

It slammed into those two wide‑eyed, terrified gazes!

Boom!