Sarira

Li Xuanfeng and Li Qinghong descended on the wind. Clouds of smoke and dust billowed across the mountaintop, where panicked monks scurried in all directions. Many natives were frantically digging through the rubble, looking terror-stricken as though the sky had collapsed and the earth had split open. Across the small island's peak, a cluster of buildings had collapsed. In the very center lay a spread of bluestone rubble that faintly resembled what had once been a tall, imposing temple. Crimson blood drenched the ground, glaring and grotesque. Seeing the two touch down, the monks seemed to understand what had happened. Wails erupted everywhere as they rushed toward the main hall at the heart of the temple. Li Qinghong swept the area with her spiritual sense and said, "Second Uncle, the spiritual energy in the blood is quite dense. In such a vast quantity, it can't possibly belong to cultivators... It must have been refined with spells from some sort of blood pool." Li Xuanfeng stepped into the ruins and saw lotus blossoms strewn across the ground. Shakya light shone everywhere, illuminating drifting grayish-black ash that seemed almost sacred beneath the golden radiance. The high platform in the center had been blown into two halves. All that remained was an object the size of a rice grain hovering in midair—pure white, translucent, and enveloped by a halo of prismatic light that wove shifting illusions. Fragrant scents wafted from the lotuses on either side. A crowd of stark-naked natives knelt on the ground, glaring at the two newcomers with profound hatred while crying and wailing to the heavens. "Ewu is dead." Li Xuanfeng had expected as much. Looking around, he reasoned that the man had likely made little progress in recovering from his wounds over these past few years. After taking an arrow out of nowhere like that, he was naturally dead beyond all doubt. Neither of them had seen an object resembling a grain of rice like this before, but they had heard rumors about it. Li Qinghong eyed it warily and said, "This must be a sarira... Seems this monk actually had something to his name." Li Xuanfeng glanced at it coldly. "He lingered on for a few extra years... He got off easy!" As the sarira hovered quietly in the air, the middle-aged man felt somewhat puzzled. "Strange. Reason dictates that Moutuo's dharmic power wasn't much inferior to his, yet it was Ewu who formed a sarira upon death... When they spoke, they mentioned some Abbot Qinling and a Qinling lineage. Perhaps it has something to do with that." Li Qinghong glanced at the lotus flowers on the ground. They were mesmerizing and bizarre; many birds had flown down and stood dazed at the petals' edges. She remarked softly, "Still, these Zhao Shakya are truly formidable when it comes to domesticating mortals. The natives of this entire island sustained him with their own flesh and blood, yet remained utterly devoted, revering and loving him from the depths of their hearts." She was referring, of course, to the hateful glares of the natives. Watching the sarira, Li Xuanfeng replied casually, "That is just how Zhao Shakya operate. Many cultivators cannot resist them, let alone mortals." Li Qinghong frowned slightly, parted her vermilion lips, and let loose a voice like spring thunder. "Silence!" In an instant, an explosion like a sudden thunderclap knocked the crowd of monks unconscious. With a casual sweep of her dharmic power, Li Qinghong lifted them and neatly lined them up outside the hall doors. Having witnessed the sarira and its accompanying anomalies, these people could easily fall into the Wrathful Path. Fortunately, they were all good-for-nothing natives, so there was no danger of some Master emerging decades later to seek vengeance. Li Xuanfeng raised a hand and cautiously produced a jade bottle. Guiding the rice-grain-sized sarira with his dharmic power, he drew it into the vessel. The jade bottle immediately turned warm, and a dull red glow seeped through its emerald-green body. Sweeping it with his spiritual sense, he could faintly hear clamorous shouting and murmured chanting, as though tens of thousands of people were trapped within. "Truly sinister." Li Xuanfeng slapped several Spirit Stabilizing Techniques onto it, to little effect. He had no choice but to take out several higher-grade talismans and affix them to the bottle before he felt satisfied. Once Li Xuanfeng sealed the sarira inside the bottle, the dharmic light filling the hall and the drifting multicolored lotuses vanished completely. The temple, which had retained a hint of holiness even in ruins, gradually faded into darkness. Li Xuanfeng gathered with his dharmic power a few magical instruments from the rubble. When the monk was first heavily wounded by him, most of his possessions had already been lost, and the most valuable item—a pair of long staves—had long since been taken by Li Xuanfeng. The things before him now held little value. Most of these artifacts were made of gold, jade, and jewels, gleaming with spiritual radiance. They were primarily instruments designed to bewitch minds and apply imprints. Li Xuanfeng put them away casually. After searching the island thoroughly with Li Qinghong, the two took flight on the wind. Having eliminated that wretched beast, Li Xuanfeng was in a much better mood, with far fewer concerns weighing on his mind. He joked, "Perhaps it's some Shakya cultivator inheritance. If so, it might serve well as bait to hook a few more Zhao Shakya." Li Qinghong nodded with a smile. Looking at the mountain below, crowded with temples and monks scurrying back and forth, she frowned. Forming an incantation with her hands, she unleashed several bolts of purple lightning. *Rumble!* The lightning blasted the area in turn, completely shattering those temples. Thunderfire erupted, burning all the books and heritage within to ashes. Li Qinghong said softly, "This is all we can do. It was run by a Zhao Shakya Master, after all. Without rogue cultivators willing to settle here, it might not recover even after centuries..." "We can't worry about all that..." Li Xuanfeng shook his head. The two crossed the sky, traversed the Zhulu Sea, shifted across several water veins, and finally landed on Fenkuai Island. Diving into the azure sea, they arrived at the market. Ning Heyuan was in closed-door cultivation and had not come to greet them, but when the two reached the cave dwelling, Eldest Brother Ning had already been waiting before the stone doors. "Chief... a young cultivator arrived at the market, saying he has come to seek you." "A young cultivator?" Li Xuanfeng glanced back at him and asked, "What is his cultivation level? What is his name?" "He is at the Foundation Establishment stage... but refuses to give his name, saying only that he is a junior from the Heshui Sea." *It seems to be Zhong Qian!* Li Xuanfeng instantly understood, thinking to himself: *Several years have passed, and he too has broken through to Foundation Establishment. I wonder why he has sought me out out of the blue... Hopefully, it concerns Qingsong Abbey...* Taking a seat within the cave dwelling, he waved his hand and said, "Send him up!" Ning Dingbo nodded and hurried down. Li Xuanfeng then said to Li Qinghong, "You should step away first. This person bears a karmic mandate; it is better if you avoid seeing him... Lest some needless trouble is stirred up out of nowhere." Li Qinghong understood and bowed before withdrawing. Li Xuanfeng retrieved a jade slip and read it in silence. Before long, a youth walked briskly toward the cave dwelling. Clad in ink-black robes with his hair bound up, he paused before the cave entrance and called respectfully: "Junior Zhong Qian pays his respects to the Daoist!" "Enter." Li Xuanfeng gave a response. He had heard about the deeds of several children of karmic mandate. Seeing that Zhong Qian was already at Foundation Establishment yet remained so courteous—at least managing appearances well—he sighed inwardly: *It seems there are great differences even between one karmic mandate and another. This Zhong Qian... is quite unlike those spoken of in rumors...* Lost in thought for a moment, he pondered: *If the True Monarch had not returned to the mountain so abruptly, but had instead walked his path step by step, what kind of role would this Zhong Qian have played by his side?*