Chapter 10: The Murderous Bodhisattva

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Midnight in the deep mountains, blood shadows flickering among desolate graves!

No matter how you looked at it, this scene was like running straight into a ghost.

“Damn it, when I draw cards in Onmyoji, I always get SSRs. With luck that good, how am I so down on my luck in the Tang Dynasty, like some whipped dog?”

“Well… I guess I really am a dog in this life.”

Lu Xin cursed his misfortune, then quickly extinguished his torch and ducked into the nearby thicket. After enduring the departure of his cousin and the brutal death of Grandpa Tu, Lu Xin was already more mature than other children his age. He no longer panicked easily when faced with trouble.

Now, lying in the pitch-dark undergrowth, as his nerves slowly calmed, Lu Xin suddenly recalled what had happened seven days ago at the City God Temple in Creek Town. Though he had been terrified and half-unconscious at the time, now that he looked back, the figure atop the distant grave was eerily similar to the one who had seized Lu Tingfang back then—both shrouded in black mist, bathed in a bloody glow.

“Onmyoji… Onmyoji… I remember hearing that word more than once back in the City God Temple. Damn, I really was an idiot. These people weren’t using martial arts at all—it was sorcery! Hell, were there actually onmyoji in the Tang Dynasty?”

Human beings instinctively seal away painful memories. But sometimes, if you figure out just one piece, the logic of it all comes tumbling out. That was what was happening to Lu Xin now. Suddenly, he understood why his cousin, Lu Tingfang, had left him behind and gone to Chang’an with that person.

Onmyoji! In 2018, those three syllables were just the name of a character in a mobile game. But in ancient times, in the Tang Dynasty, there truly existed a group of such people.

Lu Xin was excited. It was as if he had glimpsed a miracle, as if he were seeing the world he had fantasized about so many times before.

“I remember… the background story of Onmyoji takes place in Japan’s Heian period. I even looked it up online. In 794, Emperor Kanmu moved the capital from Nara to Heian-kyo, and that era lasted until 1192. So that’s the Heian period. As for the Tang Dynasty, I remember the Xuanwu Gate Incident from my history textbooks… though I don’t remember much, but if you start counting from Emperor Taizong’s accession in 627, that’s about three hundred years… So, there’s more than a hundred years where the periods overlap!”

Lu Xin wasn’t a good student—he could barely remember what was in his textbooks. But when it came to the games he loved, he knew them inside out. Now, overlaying the game’s setting with the Tang Dynasty’s timeline, and combining that with everything he had seen and experienced, a thought leapt into his mind: Japanese onmyoji culture actually originated in China!

“So, does that mean all those strange stories in history might really have happened?”

Lu Xin shook his head, his mind a chaotic jumble of thoughts, his head beginning to ache. But he had no time to dwell on it, for his gaze was suddenly caught by a rising red sun in the night sky.

To be precise, it was a ring of red-gold light, like the luminous halo behind the Buddha’s head in the old Journey to the West TV series. Lu Xin stared, transfixed, afraid he might blurt out in excitement, so he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Damn, here I am in a graveyard in the dead of night, not only unafraid but actually excited. Since when did I get so bold?”

The halo drew nearer and nearer, soon hovering above the graveyard. At the same time, a figure appeared before the halo—palms pressed together, standing in mid-air. But at that distance, Lu Xin couldn’t make out his features or clothing, just that he seemed to be a bald monk.

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When the figure stopped, the red-gold halo behind his head slowed its rotation. If you looked closely, you could see that it was formed from orderly rows of talismanic slips, spinning in the air. Meanwhile, the figure atop the grave stood up. The blood-red glow around him gradually faded, and from a distance, it looked as if he had only one arm.

“Heh. There are eight Bodhisattvas on the Mount Inextinguishable, and you are which among them? To chase me all the way from the Southern Sea to Yuezhou—you must think rather highly of me, Zhou Dian!”

“Amitabha. This humble monk’s Dharma name is Huijing. Benefactor Zhou, steeped as you are in evil karma, the Nine Venoms Sect has blood debts too deep to ignore. I could not but come.”

“So, you’re the Moonlight Bodhisattva. Well, monk, there’s only the two of us here—no need for pretenses. My Nine Venoms Sect is deep in Bazhong—what concern is it of Mount Inextinguishable? Must you really hunt me to extinction? This isn’t the Southern Sea; aren’t you afraid that flying here with your talismans will draw too much attention and leave you to die here?”

“My monastery has no dealings with the Nine Venoms Sect, but since the cause has been sown, the effect must be reaped. Sixty years ago, a Northern Zhou onmyoji stole our highest scripture, the Kṣitigarbha Sutra, from Mount Inextinguishable. Sixty years later, a disciple of the Nine Venoms Sect stole it from the ancient tomb in Yacheng—it must now be returned to the temple. Benefactor Zhou, seeing that you are grievously wounded and have lost an arm, I do not wish to strike you when you are down. Return the scripture, and then take your own life.”

“Hahaha! Well said, bald donkey. You’ve come here for my life, and yet you have the gall to claim you won’t take advantage of the weak? Mount Inextinguishable… It seems you monks are the bloodiest murderers of all. Kṣitigarbha Sutra? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Even if you kill me, you won’t find it.”

“Amitabha! Your karma is too deep, Benefactor. Since you are beyond redemption, do not blame me for unleashing wrath.”

The Moonlight Bodhisattva wasted no more words. He intoned a Buddhist invocation, and instantly two burning red lotuses were reflected in his pupils. At the same time, the halo of talismans behind his head whirled once more at dizzying speed. Zhou Dian barely had time to react before a cascade of red-gold Buddhist seals came crashing down from above.

Each seal was like the blade of a sword, slicing through the darkness of night. Though Lu Xin was far away, he could hear the air being torn apart by those seals. He could not imagine what kind of power this was, but he was sure that no modern firearm could compare.

“Red Lotus Great Compassion Seal! Bald donkey, if I must be destroyed, I’ll drag you down with me!”

Zhou Dian had already lost an arm escaping from the City God Temple with the Tribulation Crossing Talisman—he was gravely wounded. Though he had used secret arts to recuperate for seven days among the graves, he was far from healed. Facing a Bodhisattva from Mount Inextinguishable, he knew he was doomed, and so he no longer feared death. As the seals descended, he smashed his fist into his chest, coughing up a torrent of bright red blood.

The brilliant blood caught the wind and changed, and as Zhou Dian chanted incantations, monstrous insects materialized in the air—black and red, fanged and clawed, shrieking with an unholy sound. The Bodhisattva’s seals were all blocked.

“Such potent sorcery! A pity your cultivation is insufficient, and you have walked the path of demons. After this move, even if I do not kill you, you cannot survive.”

“Hmph, my life or death is none of your concern. Mount Inextinguishable flaunts its Buddhist teachings and claims to save all beings, but in truth you are nothing but butchers in monks’ robes. How are you any better than my Nine Venoms Sect? Now that Li Shimin rules the empire and favors the Pure Land monks, Master Xuanzang has already petitioned the court to journey west for scriptures. If he masters the Mahayana of Nalanda, he will surely comprehend the true essence of the Tripitaka. Mount Inextinguishable will always be heretical, never the Buddhist orthodoxy.”

“One vehicle or many, do all beings possess Buddha-nature? One burns away all roots of virtue, the other pities all sentient things. All in this world is like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow—like dew or a flash of lightning. There will always be contention over doctrine. But the journey west is barred by the Wild God Sect and countless tantric schools, to say nothing of the endless mountains and rivers. How will he ever succeed? Your end is near, Zhou, yet you still seek to mislead others—your sins are grave indeed.”

The Moonlight Bodhisattva was clearly furious. His tone remained calm, but the red lotuses in his eyes erupted into blazing flames. As he spoke, he pressed his palm downward, and all the talismans behind his head coalesced into a giant golden hand. With a thunderous boom, Zhou Dian was crushed beneath it, turning instantly to ashes.

The wrath of a Bodhisattva—terrifying beyond measure!

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The monk, his halo gone, descended from the air. He seemed to be searching for something, pacing about the area for a while, but found nothing. Soon, the Bodhisattva from Mount Inextinguishable faded into the boundless darkness, his whereabouts unknown. Lu Xin, ever cautious, remained hiding in the grass for another ten minutes before daring to get up.

“Holy hell, that monk is terrifying—just kills without hesitation. I have no idea what they were talking about, but that guy nearly killed Brother Tingfang, so serves him right.”

Lu Xin let out a long breath. He’d originally come just to fetch water and return, but as he turned to go, a thought flashed through his mind. In the games he played, whenever you killed a monster, there was always loot to pick up. That guy was a powerful onmyoji—surely he’d have left something behind?

“That monk was obviously searching for something but couldn’t find it. I’d better go take a look—if I find gold or jewels, I can go to Chang’an and find Brother Tingfang. Yes, why not? The man’s dead—what’s there to be afraid of? With money, let’s see how that Feng fellow dares to bully me again.”

As the saying goes, fortune favors the bold and the timid starve. Now, with nothing left to lose, Lu Xin found his courage. The thought crossed his mind, and he immediately crossed the ravine and dashed into the graveyard. The wind howled eerily around him. With no torch, he could only move slowly by the faint moonlight. The deeper he went, the more terrifying the place felt, as if ghosts might erupt from the graves at any moment.

“They say in dramas, men die for wealth and birds for food—guess that’s me tonight.”

Truth be told, Lu Xin regretted his decision the moment he entered the graveyard, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. When he reached his destination, the once-standing mound had been shattered into yellow earth and scattered stones. There was nothing left on the ground but ashes—not even a drop of blood. Zhou Dian had died cleanly, leaving not so much as a copper coin behind.

Lu Xin was a little disappointed. He glanced back along the path he’d come, suddenly feeling his prospects were as dark as the night.

“Damn, there’s no dignity even in death. You could have at least left some cash—maybe I’d have burned you some incense someday!”

He cursed bitterly, and in his anger, kicked a pile of stones beside him. With a rumble, the rocks tumbled to the ground. Lu Xin quickly stepped aside, then peered down. Amid the stones, something seemed to glint coldly in the darkness.

“What’s this?”

He brushed aside the remaining stones and picked up an object. About twenty centimeters long, two fingers wide—smooth to the touch, like a finely polished bamboo tube, but its surface gleamed bright silver, more like some kind of metal. At this point, Lu Xin’s longing for treasure was so intense he didn’t care what it was—he simply opened the tube.

Inside was a piece of cloth—in fact, a large roll of silk. The material was fine and smooth, almost warm to the touch. Lu Xin unrolled what seemed to be a brocade, revealing densely written text and a dozen or so images of talismans—it seemed to be a book made of rare material. He couldn’t read much of the ancient script, but he thought he recognized the title.

“Dharma… Goodness… The Sutra of Virtuous Burial?”