Chapter 22: Buddhist Sorcery (10)

For any religious organization, the best way to win people’s hearts is naturally to maintain a sense of mystery. Believers are most obsessed with this elusive feeling—mystery represents the unknown. Imagine, in those distant, unknowable lands, there are people who can defy fate and help you accomplish things you once dared not dream of. Faced with such an organization, do you still have the slightest courage to refuse?
Mahayana Buddhism is no exception. In fact, the Tibetan Buddhist monks had long set a trap, waiting for these foolish people to rush in. Thus, those like Wu Siwei, who gained slight benefits, began to admire Mahayana Buddhism and were willing to risk their lives for the Tibetan monks.
Inside the box made of inkstone, more and more corn was added until it reached saturation. The black-robed Buddhist monk’s lips curled slightly, revealing a barely perceptible sneer。……
As night fell, the weather turned cool.
Yanjia Temple, which had been crowded with people and filled with incense during the day, was now deserted. There were no pedestrians on the streets, and only the occasional croaking of frogs could be heard from the nearby riverbank.
Dozens of men in night clothes rushed along the walls of the neighborhood, stopping outside a partially collapsed earthen wall before lightly leaping inside one after another。……
“There is no room for negotiation on this matter.”
In a secret room within Yanjia Temple, Xu Runda, the governor of Yangzhou, declared firmly, ignoring Master Kongong’s embarrassed expression.
Master Kongong’s lips twitched slightly before he finally sighed, “Very well, very well. The Buddha teaches us to be kind to all beings. Why must you press me so hard, Lord Xu?”
Xu Runda sneered coldly, “You can be kind to anyone, but not this person. Doesn’t Master Kongong always say that heaven has a virtue of sparing life? If this man survives, thousands will die because of him. Shouldn’t he die?”
“This……”
Master Kongong’s expression froze, and his prayer beads slipped in his hand, nearly falling to the ground. Faced with Xu Runda’s unreasonable arguments, he didn’t know how to respond. Trading one life for another is nothing but ruthless and dark, no matter where.
“Give me three days. In three days, I’ll bring you this man’s head.”
It was a swordsman in night clothes who spoke. He had remained silent since entering the secret room, so his sudden speech surprised Xu Runda slightly.
“Master Wu Jie, are you truly that confident?”

That night, the traveler ripped off the black cloth covering his face and smiled coldly, “I’ve never failed to keep a promise I make. But you’d better tell your master not to forget our agreement.”
The secret room had no windows, only an oil lamp lit.
Under the dim light, the general could clearly make out Master Wu Jie’s features. His face was dark, his nose high, and his eye sockets deep. With a long face and narrow cheeks, his hair was tied into a bun that curved upward on his forehead—clearly not from the Central Plains. Most terrifying was the long, light red scar on his left face, from beneath his eyelid down to his jaw, which seemed to move as if alive under the oil lamp’s glow.
Master Wu Jie placed the sword he carried at his side on the square table and took out a leather pouch from his waist, pouring something from it straight into his mouth. The sword’s scabbard was slightly rusty, as if covered in copper patina. There was a shallow crack on the hilt, which had been tied up with oilcloth rope, allowing it to be used barely. Yet its owner seemed utterly unconcerned about this, always carrying it with him and placing it in the most prominent spot.
“Of course,” he said.
Xu Runda forced a smile and said, “How could a distinguished guest from Shambhala refuse to taste the fine wine of his homeland?”
With that, Xu Runda pushed a pot of highland barley wine toward Wu Jie.
“If the Buddha says he must die, how can he stay alive?” Wu Jie said coldly, pouring the entire pot of wine down his throat. …
“Have you brought all the grain?”
Outside Yanjia Temple, a young monk glanced at the newcomers disdainfully, crossing his arms and sneering.
The newcomers were a group of ragged men, all around twenty years old. Could such people truly be followers of Mahayana Buddhism? To enter Mahayana Buddhism, one first needed to offer five bushels of high-quality corn—could they possibly afford that?
“We’ve paid, everything’s paid. Could this young monk take us to see Master Wu Jie?”
It was clearly the leader of these beggars who replied. Though his clothes were tattered, his voice was strong and boisterous, annoying to the young monk’s ears.
“Heh, do you think our Yanjia Temple is a beggar shelter, at your disposal? To be honest, Master Wu Jie is only staying here temporarily. During the day, he appears and disappears without a trace. Not to mention you, even our abbot has great difficulty meeting him. You’ve just joined the sect and already expect to see Master Wu Jie? That’s pure delusion.”
The young monk clearly found these beggars ridiculous, his tone becoming shrill, sounding almost like a goose’s cry from afar.
“Then, when will we be able to see Master Wu Jie?”

The beggar leader was clearly very disappointed, but he still resented it and stared at the young monk, asking, “Hey, aren’t you annoying? I’ve already told you—Master Wuji comes and goes invisibly. How can I give you a definite answer? I think you’d better tidy up your appearance before going to see Master Wuji. We’re not even on the same level, yet you still dare to knock on his door.” The young monk glanced at the beggar leader disdainfully and said, “Go away! Hurry to the temple to report in. Someone will show you where to stay. But I advise you to first get two buckets of hot water to wash yourselves properly, so as not to dirty our temple’s beds.”… Dozens of beggar followers were hurried into Yanjia Temple and led straight to the rooms in the back courtyard. Although Buddhism preaches equality among all beings, the attitude of the temple’s martial monks toward these beggar followers showed that it was nothing but a huge joke. What does equality among all beings mean? How could there be equality? Do you expect an elephant with immense strength to be equal to an ant as insignificant as a mayfly? Do you expect a wealthy merchant from Jianghuai to be equal to a poor beggar shivering without clothes? Their backgrounds and strengths are completely on different levels—how could there be equality! In this world, the only way to be treated like the strong is to become stronger oneself; only then can one think on the same level. After leading the group of beggars to a row of low rooms, the martial monk walked away without even looking back. The beggar leader’s lips twitched slightly, but he ultimately said nothing…. “What? Do they eat this all day?” Looking at the plate of wild vegetable buns in front of him, Pu Dachui exclaimed in shock, “How can this be acceptable? I’m different from them. If I eat like this, I’ll go hungry in just a few days!” Looking at Pu Dachui’s muscular build, Li Kuo said with a wry smile, “Dachui, just endure it. Right now, we come from humble backgrounds—what treatment can we even expect from others?” “That’s right. Have you ever seen beggars with such muscular bodies? If you ask me, going hungry isn’t such a bad thing—at least others won’t suspect anything.” Zhou Wucui casually grabbed a piece of wild vegetable bun and started chewing it with relish. “Damn those damned monks! They’re so contemptible!” Looking down at his patched-up clothes, Pu Dachui finally resigned himself and nodded, frowning as he forced the tough food into his mouth.

“But Qilang, Da Chui is not entirely wrong. Right now, our public status is low, so it’s likely difficult to get close to that demon monk Wu Jie.”
Zhou Wuze clapped his hands to clear the flour from his face and spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.
“Hmm, although we’ve joined Mahayana Buddhism, we’re still among the lowest-level believers. It’s impossible for us to access any secrets, let alone meet Wu Jie.”
Li Kuo was quite clear about this. Everything had to be done step by step. If their status when they joined the religion was too prominent, it might alert the enemy.
“In my opinion, we might as well take advantage of the intervals when the whole temple is chanting to search room by room. I’m sure we’ll find Wu Jie’s lair.”
Pu Da Chui hated that demon monk deeply and wished to tear him apart right away. Since it wasn’t possible to act openly, they could do it secretly. After all, Yanjia Temple wasn’t large—there were only about a hundred rooms. By checking them one by one, they would eventually find his residence.
“That won’t work. First, Wu Jie is extremely vigilant. Such a search will surely draw his attention. Second, Wu Jie moves mysteriously. Even if we find his place, we won’t gain anything meaningful.”
Seeing Pu Da Chui acting impulsively again, Li Sheng hurried to advise him. They were supposed to disguise themselves as beggars to spy on the Tibetan demon monk, and they couldn’t reveal their identities too early. Pu Da Chui’s plan was too risky and absolutely unfeasible.
“I also think it’s not appropriate,” Li Kuo nodded and said. “Although Yanjia Temple isn’t big, it might still have traps set up. Wu Jie is cunning—his residence could hide secret compartments. It’s unlikely we’ll get anything useful. Our only option now is to wait and see if Wu Jie makes a mistake on his own.”
“Make a mistake on his own?”
Pu Da Chui looked at Li Kuo in confusion, not understanding why his general would say such a thing.
“Have you forgotten? The head of the Jianghuai military force has gone missing. If you were Wu Jie, would you sit calmly in the temple, chanting and fasting?”