Taking a three-li detour, the two finally crossed the river to the northern bank.
Qin Xuan looked back toward where the old fisherman had been, lingering fear still gripping his heart. "Did your grandfather ever mention where that old fisherman comes from?"
The little fox shook her head; she did not know either, but hurriedly warned him, "Young Master, now that you've seen him make a move, you must never mention him again. That's also what Grandfather told me."
Daring not speak plainly, Gu Mei'er offered an oblique metaphor:
"An angler by the river often cannot see the fish beneath the water, yet he keeps his eyes fixed on every twitch of the float..."
Qin Xuan understood her meaning and took her earlier words to heart as well.
"Let us go. We'll simply keep clear of him."
Holding the Talisman of Conferment, as he approached Hawk's Beak Mountain from the other side, his perception of the cat seemed to grow somewhat clearer. At the very least, he could be certain the fat cat was still alive.
He pointed roughly in a direction.
The young girl followed his gesture. "Right, the grand tomb is in the mountains over that way."
After another detour of several li, they spotted a village in the distance, nestled against the mountains beside the water, its houses laid out in neat rows. At the entrance stood a green stone stele inscribed with three large characters: Daoxiang Hollow.
Just as the two were about to enter, a troop clad in tight-fitting martial attire with bows and sabers at their waists emerged from the village.
Leading them was an emaciated middle-aged man who looked rather familiar even from afar.
Qin Xuan focused his gaze and realized it was Captain Hong Wutong of Yingyang Prefecture.
This man's temperament was entirely different from Captain Lu's. Though his authority within the prefecture was not as great as Lu's, he was well-loved by the common folk of the commandery—a man of practical deeds.
Because he was exceptionally strict with the surrounding deities, the spirits of the royal temples and untamed wilds harbored deep grievances against him.
Hong Wutong had been gloomily wiping down his long saber, but upon spotting Qin Xuan, he recognized him at once.
After a brief hesitation, he led his men over to offer a greeting. "Young Master Qin, we meet again."
"Captain Hong."
Qin Xuan looked at him, then glanced at the squad behind him.
Speaking with a man like this required no roundabout evasions. "Why has Captain Hong arrived so early? Has something happened in the village?"
The relationship between Yingyang Prefecture and Yuansong Temple was delicate.
Prison City, standing behind Yingyang Prefecture, controlled incense through the various paths of deities, while Yuansong Temple likewise maintained public altars to welcome devotees. Yet compared to Liangfeng Temple, the other major presence in the commandery, Yuansong Temple was far more laissez-faire.
However, across the Eastern Ascendant Continent, the Dao Sect's incense was ultimately more prosperous than that of the Western Religion.
Consequently, Yingyang Prefecture and Yuansong Temple were rivals competing for dominance.
Captain Hong was a man of principle; whether he answered Qin Xuan or not would have been entirely understandable.
Even so, he thought of the vanished villagers of Xiahe Village and the deaths of the Xieling disciples that night at the Geng residence. Looking at Qin Xuan, he did not withhold the words on the tip of his tongue.
"Some bizarre things have occurred in the village lately—yin ghosts and mountain specters stirring up trouble, children going missing, and a band of murderous scoundrels who came to burn, pillage, and rob."
"The day before yesterday, I received word from the village head and lay in wait here for two days. Last night, I received an official tally from the prefecture, so I must head back now."
Hong Wutong added a few more details.
The general situation was this: the yin ghosts he had staked out never appeared, the children were never found, and as for those scoundrels, someone else had beaten him to the punch and dealt with them.
With nothing going his way, it was no wonder he wore such a sour expression.
Speaking of those scoundrels, Hong Wutong frowned.
Qin Xuan, meanwhile, caught a familiar name—Master Jin Guan. This monk was the abbot of Liangfeng Temple, the most profound master of the Dharma in Pingyuan City.
Though Master Jin Guan was a Buddhist monk, he enjoyed a widespread chivalric reputation.
Most of the commandery's outlaws and ruffians had been captured or slain by him. Seeing that he had appeared in Daoxiang Hollow and struck down the bandits who raided the village, Qin Xuan felt the rumors were indeed true.
Just then, the sound of footsteps came from within the village.
A crowd of villagers surged out. At the very front walked two monks, one tall and one short.
The shorter one walked behind, roughly fifty years of age, wearing a yellow kasaya bordered with golden thread, his expression peaceful.
The tall monk in front had a face full of brutish flesh and a saber scar across his forehead. His posture with hands clasped in prayer was thoroughly awkward, as though he had only just entered the monastic path.
Among the villagers, some wept, some brought melon and fruit to see them off, some glared murderously at the tall monk, while even more cried out, "Safe travels, Master!"
"Amitabha."
The short monk chanted softly. Boundless magic power surged through his body, and instantly Buddhist light flared brilliantly, piercing through the morning mist before the village.
He called out in a low voice, "Wayward disciple."
The tall monk bowed in reply. "Yes."
Having answered, he dropped to his knees and kowtowed to the assembled villagers. He struck the ground repeatedly until he gouged out a pit and his forehead ran with blood, only stopping at the short monk's gesture, though he remained kneeling.
After a moment, the short monk declared with solemn gravity:
"First lead them with desire as the hook, then guide them into Buddhist wisdom. All sentient beings possess Buddha-nature. This poor monk has extinguished his evil roots. Henceforth, he shall repent daily for his past deeds, so that those who have suffered may find peace of mind and attain rebirth in the Pure Land."
The short monk speaking was none other than Master Jin Guan, abbot of Liangfeng Temple.
Piecing together what Captain Hong had said, Qin Xuan roughly grasped what had transpired. Shifting his gaze to the tall monk, he asked, "Is this fellow the scoundrel who committed the atrocities in the village?"
"Him," Captain Hong said with an ugly expression. "There were six of these scoundrels in total. This man goes by the bandit moniker Fierce Wolf and is the ringleader. They slaughtered an entire household in the village, injured over a dozen people, and violated a woman."
He paused, then added, "The other five were all slain by Master Jin Guan. But this man laid down his blade, so Master Jin Guan tonsured him, made him kneel in the village for two days, and said he would take him back to Liangfeng Temple so that he may spend the rest of his life repenting for his evil deeds."
"Why not kill him?" Qin Xuan frowned slightly.
Captain Hong did not answer directly, merely giving Qin Xuan a pointed look. "Young Master Qin, I've told you everything I learned over the past two days. Be careful here. And..."
For the latter half of his warning, Captain Hong switched to direct voice transmission:
"Captain Lu has rallied his subordinates. When the Prison City commander arrives, he intends to accuse you of causing the death of Hawk's Beak Mountain's protector deity. I was recalled to the prefecture for this very reason. Take care of yourself."
A dog that doesn't bark truly bites the hardest.
No wonder that fellow Lu had kept silent back at Lianyun Manor; he had been harboring wicked schemes all along.
Qin Xuan did not fear the commander, and besides, Protector Deity Shi Chun had been killed by the Xieling Sect.
Captain Hong turned to leave, only to see Qin Xuan walking toward Master Jin Guan.
As for this monk-errant of the commandery, though his current conduct sat poorly with Qin Xuan, the man had consistently eradicated evil and aided the good, making him worthy of respect.
Qin Xuan offered a Daoist bow. "Greetings, Master. I have a word, though I do not know if it is appropriate to speak."
"Sadhu, sadhu," Jin Guan said in a peaceful tone. He did not look down on the junior despite his own high cultivation, leaning slightly forward in a Buddhist greeting. "Speak freely, young benefactor."
Qin Xuan pointed at the bandit chief called Fierce Wolf. "Master, have his evil roots truly been eradicated?"
Master Jin Guan nodded. "The evil roots are extinguished; only the wisdom-life of repentance remains."
Qin Xuan said, "Master, I recall Buddhist scriptures state: when karma is profound, it rivals Mount Sumeru. The law of cause and effect does not fail; how can mere empty words about 'evil roots' erase it?"
"The dead cannot hear his repentance, and the living despise his survival all the more, wishing for his death. Why does Master not put an end to him?"
Hearing these words, a stir rippled through the villagers.
Over a dozen hateful gazes bored into the tall monk, aching to chop him to pieces and feed him to the dogs.
Jin Guan could not help but examine Qin Xuan closely, a faint smile appearing on his face.
"Young benefactor, you possess great wisdom-roots and share an affinity with our Western Religion. You could become one worthy of offerings."
Ignoring Qin Xuan's point about "evil roots," he brushed it aside with effortless ease.
"Why not accompany this poor monk to Liangfeng Temple? I shall explain in detail the Chan teachings of 'prescribing medicine according to the illness, taking compassion as the root, and using skillful means as the gateway,' so as to resolve the confusion in your heart."
"What do you say?"
Beside him, Gu Mei'er spoke up, "Master, my young master has a family and affairs of his own. He cannot become a monk."
With her speaking up, Qin Xuan had no need to answer.
Master Jin Guan did not press the matter, merely nodding slightly. "Wayward disciple, let us return to the temple."
"Yes."
The tall monk rose and resumed walking out of the village.
In the crowd behind him stood a woman covered in tears, several wounded villagers clutching billhooks, and two corpses laid out not far away...
Qin Xuan shot a cold glare at the bandit leader, longing to cleave his head from his shoulders.
Yet Jin Guan stood before the brute—short in stature, yet unyielding as an immovable mountain...
Chapter 44