The man set down the carving knife in his hand, casually sitting upon a pile of firewood like a genuine old farmer, and asked, "For Fami to send you to me, you must have offered conditions he couldn't refuse. Speak. What brings you here?"
The tall, thin monk weighed his words before saying, "A certain individual has recently risen to prominence. He is very young, yet he bears a title: Spear Saint of the Great Desolation."
The man's expression remained unchanged as he replied calmly, "Has the Pure Land run out of people? Must you turn to an outsider to kill someone?"
"Senior is Senior Brother Fami's closest friend, so you are hardly an outsider," the tall, thin monk said with utter sincerity, as if speaking straight from the heart.
The man showed no emotion. "Get to the point."
The tall, thin monk gritted his teeth, a flicker of inner struggle crossing his eyes before he spoke. "He... strictly speaking, he could be considered an offshoot of our Buddhist lineage, half a living Buddha Child. But his scriptures and doctrines have gone astray. They are neither the orthodox Dharma of the Tathāgata nor the Path of Sentient Beings taught by the King Buddha. Yet his followers multiply by the day, threatening to shake the very foundations of Spirit Mountain. He cannot be allowed to continue down this path.
"However, if the Pure Land were to act directly, we would risk gaining a reputation for slaughtering fellow Buddhists, which would look rather unseemly."
A faint trace of mockery finally touched the man's face. "Your Pure Land still has a reputation?"
The tall, thin monk did not bat an eyelid, merely chanting a Buddhist invocation.
"Then what doctrine does he preach?"
Fear surfaced on the tall, thin monk's face. "This... sinful, sinful! It cannot be spoken—"
Yet seeing the man's expression, he gritted his teeth and confessed, "His doctrine is not yet complete, but its essence is... to deliver the mortal realm."
The man showed emotion once more. "A dead end," he murmured slowly. "This man actually piques my interest. Has he put it into practice?"
"He took a Great Vow!!"
The man raised an eyebrow. "Rare indeed, rare indeed! Even calling him a paragon among men wouldn't do him justice; he must possess peerless bearing. No wonder you want him dead. The hatred between different factions within your sects runs deeper than mortal vendettas of slain fathers or dishonored wives!
"However...
"The title of Spear Saint is not his to claim."
The tall, thin monk rejoiced. "Senior's righteousness knows no bounds! Is there anything Senior requires? As long as the Pure Land possesses it, I shall report to my sect upon my return and ensure it is brought to you!"
"No need. One spear is enough for me." The man casually picked up a tree branch beside him, straightened it with a single stroke of his hand, and it turned into an ordinary long spear. No matter how closely the tall, thin monk looked, he could find nothing remarkable about it.
"But—"
The man cut him off. "What are his past battle achievements?"
"He is currently in the middle Scenery Command realm and has already slain three immortals: Liumiao, Lu Changhe, and Xu Shutong."
The man remarked flatly, "Three miscellaneous immortals, eh... Not bad. Worthy of a fight. His name?"
"Wei Yuan!"
Without packing any belongings, the man simply walked toward the exit.
The tall, thin monk said hurriedly, "Senior, wait! The outer devil is fierce and cunning. My master's intent was to invite Senior to visit the Pure Land, where he would personally bestow a blessing upon Senior to dispel illusions and turn misfortune into good fortune—"
The man sneered. "Wouldn't that count as assistance from your Pure Land? Then this battle would have to share karma with you."
"Our Pure Land genuinely wishes to assist Senior—" The tall, thin monk stamped his foot in anxiety.
"No need. Keep the payment on credit. When I have need of it in the future, I will come claim it myself."
"Yet right now is the best opportunity—" The monk grew even more frantic, thinking inwardly that while the Pure Land was desperate, the man could demand an exorbitant price. Once Wei Yuan was dead, the Pure Land would hardly offer the same terms.
The man had already drifted into the distance, leaving behind only a parting remark: "If your Pure Land dares shortchange Tuoba Dafeng's reward, you can expect a few of your lotus thrones to shatter."
The tall, thin monk was shocked, yet skeptical.
He silently repeated "Tuoba Dafeng" several times, yet could not recall such a figure ever existing in the world. Reason dictated that someone who could undergo solitary seclusion for a century, share close ties with Fami, and prompt his master to expend a tremendous karmic opportunity just to draw him out of seclusion could not possibly be completely unknown.
While he was lost in bewilderment, a tiny bug suddenly crawled out of his nostril. The creature had a fleshy white body, over a dozen pairs of slender legs, and a back densely covered with eyes!
The moment this bizarre bug exited his nostril, it fell to the ground, writhed in agony for a long time, and finally dissolved into a pile of sawdust, dead.
The tall, thin monk naturally recognized this bug. It was called the Greed-Evil Dhāraṇī Bug, formed from the lingering secular and evil thoughts of Buddhist cultivators. It was exceptionally tenacious; countless eminent monks had fallen before this tiny worm prior to attaining the Dao.
With the bug eradicated, the tall, thin monk instantly felt his spiritual altar clear and bright. Great courage and great wisdom welled within his heart; countless past perplexities resolved themselves the moment he gave them thought!
Realization dawned upon him. He immediately bowed deeply toward the direction Tuoba Dafeng had departed, saying with utmost sincerity, "Thank you, Senior. This humble monk, Fahui, shall repay this karmic debt if I ever attain Bodhi in the future."
***
Beside the ancient road, under a withered tree.
The sickly youth leaned against the withered tree, unconscious. After a short while, his eyelids twitched. Peering through the slit of his eyes, he saw the old man sitting upon a rock. Flanking him were a bald burly man on one side and a lean man with sullen eyes on the other, both watching him with smiles.
The bald burly man said, "No wonder Big Brother traveled thousands of li to a strange village to haul you out. You're actually a remnant of the Feathering Sect from five hundred years ago! If you hadn't received that monk's merit to clear away your cognitive obstructions and illuminate your past lives, we truly wouldn't have discovered your identity!"
The lean man said sinisterly, "Did you think a bald monk's merit is easy to enjoy? The moment you accepted that merit, your cover was blown, and you fell right into our hands!"
The youth finally opened his eyes and looked closely at the old man. Suddenly, the image overlapped with a figure from his memories. Even though their appearances were completely different—the man before him being merely a lean old farmer—a jolt still shot through his body, making him tremble uncontrollably.
In his memories, that round, thoroughly amiable face was the deepest terror, one that had accompanied him across several reincarnations. Every time he awakened, this memory inevitably followed. Whenever that face spouted sanctimonious nonsense about pitying heaven and sympathizing with mortals, a great catastrophe was about to strike.
Right now, the old man said smilingly, "Don't frighten him! To receive the merit of an eminent monk of great virtue means karmic ties. Perhaps one day he might sit upon a throne on Spirit Mountain, or after reincarnation, ascend to the Buddha land's heavenly realm."
The youth's face instantly went deathly pale.
Having cleared the delusions from his sea of consciousness and peered into his past lives, he naturally understood the truth. He cried out in terror, "How is that attaining karmic status?! All the statuses were attained by them long ago! If I go, I will merely become an empty vessel whose fate and destiny nourish their golden bodies—feed for a golden body until even my own reincarnation and fate are erased! I don't want that!"
He suddenly recalled that before losing consciousness, the old man had brought him to beg and play the victim beside the ancient road.
The first few passersby had been fine. Seeing the youth, cultivators had opened their purses one after another—some offering magic treasures and weapons, some giving heavenly materials and earthly treasures, and some even presenting Dao companions on the spot!
Yet where were those Dao companions? There had seemed to be more than one; how were they all gone?
The youth's mind grew fuzzy; he couldn't remember where the gentle, catlike young Dao companion had gone.
All that was still fine, not particularly horrifying. But then he remembered the scene where the old man placed two steamed buns into the monk's hands. A chill shot straight to the crown of his head, plunging him into icy dread!
He scrambled to say, "Three big brothers, this humble one knows the whereabouts of Bright Moon Bodhisattva!"
Yet the three remained expressionless, clearly disbelieving.
The youth held out for a moment before his face fell into misery. "Our Feathering Sect was clearly an orthodox, righteous sect, yet back then you insisted we were a demonic sect and destroyed us! Fine, let that be. I have reincarnated across ten lives and never done evil. Why won't you let it go?! Must you exterminate every last one of us?!"
The bald man and the lean man both turned to look at the old man, somewhat puzzled. The old man smiled and said, "Everything you said is right. Let's go."
With that, he actually stood up, gestured to the two men, and strolled away.
Not until their figures vanished did the youth dare scramble up. A seasoned shrewdness instantly flashed in his eyes. He swiftly scanned his surroundings, confirmed the three hadn't returned, gritted his teeth, and fled in the opposite direction.
Having run barely two li, a radiant golden Buddhist light suddenly erupted from the youth's body, growing brighter and brighter, impossible to suppress!
Terrified, he searched every corner of his past memories, yet could not fathom what was happening. But with the Buddhist light shining so brilliantly, his heart pounded in terror after ten lives of timid caution.
Out of options, he steeled his resolve, turned, and sprinted toward a nearby mountain range. In his memory, an inconspicuous little temple stood there that had once been widely famed in the cultivation world hundreds of years ago. Within that small temple, one Bodhi and one Arhat had attained their status in succession, making it a sacred Buddhist sanctuary of sorts.
Now that Buddhist light flared from him and having been frightened out of his wits, he was finally willing to abandon everything and join the Pure Land. Otherwise, he felt he wouldn't survive the night. Could a single word from that old demon be trusted?
He ran faster and faster, when suddenly an exclamation of surprise sounded by his ear. A pair of exquisitely handsome young men and women stepped into view.
The man was valiant and heroic, while the woman was charming and alluring—both extraordinarily rare in this world. Yet the moment the youth laid eyes on them, he recoiled as if seeing vipers and scorpions. In his eyes, deep emerald mist flowed around them, accompanied by a cloying sweet scent. They were clearly not human!
At that moment, the man and woman looked at the youth with unfriendly gazes. The young man said in a deep voice, "No wonder a sudden premonition struck me, making me feel an opportunity lay here. Sure enough, I've run into a Buddhist seed! Which Bodhisattva reserved you as fertilizer?"
The youth didn't know how to respond for a moment. From the tone of this person—no, this Sacred Shaman—there was blatant malice.
The youth braced himself and said, "I am just an ordinary person. An eminent monk just stopped me to say a few words, and now I'm on my way to visit relatives."
The man sneered. "There are no villages in the direction you are heading, only a branch temple of the Pure Land. Who are you trying to fool by claiming you aren't one of them?"
The youth silently cried out in dismay and turned to flee, but his body suddenly left the ground. The woman had flashed behind him at some unknown point and hoisted him into the air with one hand.
The youth yelled, "Spare me, Lord Shamans! This humble cultivator truly hasn't done anything!"
The woman said, "Oh? He actually knows we are Shamans? Such eyesight must be an innate divine ability."
"All the better. Sacrificing him to heaven will also cut off a stream of resources for the Pure Land!" Murderous intent flared in the man's eyes.
The youth was scared out of his wits. No matter how he had once stirred winds and clouds in the past, after centuries of reincarnations on the run, his spirit had long since eroded away.
He immediately pleaded, "This humble one bears heavy karma! If you sacrifice me to heaven, there will definitely be a backlash! When the Bodhisattvas of the Pure Land come looking for answers, you won't fare well either!"
"Come looking for answers?" The young man chuckled coldly. "It would be best if a few Bodhisattvas and Arhats appeared before me so we could settle things properly. As for karma, rest assured—there is very little karma that we Sacred Shamans cannot resolve, and what you carry is certainly not among them. Go peacefully on your way!"
A miserable shriek echoed across the wilderness.
In the distant little temple, several monks opened their eyes simultaneously, exchanging bewildered glances, but when they calculated the secrets of heaven, they found nothing at all.
Amidst the mountain forest, the young man and woman changed direction and quietly drifted away.
The woman said, "To think this fellow was actually a child of karmic destiny. After this sacrifice to heaven, my accumulation is sufficient; I can begin establishing a realm and prepare for my breakthrough. What about you, Shengxin?"
Snapping back to attention, Shengxin replied, "Counting this one, we've already killed five children of karmic destiny from the human race. The karma has long been accumulated. But as for Heavenly Shaman... forget it, the time has not yet come. Still, this child of karmic destiny is somewhat strange, almost as if he fell straight from heaven. Could my luck truly be this good?"
***
Beside a clear brook, the old man and the two men had built a campfire, roasting two river fish over the flames and boiling a pot of wild herb soup.
Though the conditions were simple and rugged, a cozy warmth filled the air.
The lean man asked, "Big Brother, was what that fellow said true?"
The old man replied, "Probably true. But truth or falsehood matters little. What matters is that back in the day, an Old Ancestor hated them to the core and swore a Dao oath to exterminate them down to the last root. His elderly self passed away early before fulfilling the oath, so as descendants, it falls to us to make good on the boast the Old Ancestor made."
The two men nodded one after another, thoroughly agreeing.
The bald man asked again, "What was the deeper meaning behind those two steamed buns? I really couldn't make heads or tails of it."
The old man smiled and said, "Nothing much, really. Just a tiny adjustment. It turned someone's final flaw from 'already vanished' into 'ought to vanish.'"
The lean man remarked, "That's still not completely foolproof. As it happens, the military treatise passed down by my immortal master back then gained another page recently. I learned a small spell from it, so let me send a reminder after all."
The bald burly man marveled, "Wasn't your art of war transmitted orally from heart to mind without written words? How did a military treatise suddenly appear? Is your master the Many Treasures Immortal Venerable or something?"
The lean man glared at him. "None of your business!"
***
Wei Yuan had just returned to the Lu clan ancestral land. Focused wholly on manipulating the grand formation, he guided a ring off the colossal finger bone beneath the earth, drawing it upward inch by inch.
Suddenly, a trance washed over him, and he found himself in another world.
He was seated high upon a golden throne hall, with civil officials swarming like ants and military generals teeming like locusts below. A flattering courtier called out in a singing voice: "The Bolang Immortal Dynasty presents... eight pairs of peerless songstresses!"
Wei Yuan's spirits lifted, though his voice remained steady as he uttered slowly, "Bring them forth."
More than a dozen exotic beauties entered the hall with graceful steps, kneeling only when they reached the foot of the cloud stairs. Yet before their knees even touched the floor, several of them suddenly roared, "Fatuous tyrant, die!" and erupted in an instant, cold glints flashing in their hands as they struck viciously toward Wei Yuan!
Startled and furious, with his splendid mood completely ruined, Wei Yuan roared in outrage, "Treacherous commoners plotting against Me again!"
Chapter 1228