Tian was lightheaded from the shimmering, twisting agony of the demon’s finger. It had reached a point of obliteration, where the pain simply overwhelmed rational thought and demanded that the panicked animal do whatever was necessary to escape. Weighed against that was the increasingly loud chant from the Hell Suppressing Sutra. As the curse qi intensified within his body, the Sutra grew louder in his ears and worked more quickly. Tian had been counting on it- a calculated risk in the midst of danger.
He had to rescue the child, kill the heretic, save Sister Liren… too many things to keep straight, too complicated for him to handle perfectly. At the heart of it was the demon’s finger. It reeked and shimmered with curse qi, struggling to do terrible things. It could not be destroyed or tamed. It could only be obeyed or suppressed. Tian was the vile thing’s natural counter. But not without cost.
His eyes were wide open, and saw nothing. He was an empty vessel that simply breathed. The Advent of Spring and the Hell Suppressing Sutra worked in tandem to refine the demonic qi tearing apart his body and mind, but in order to protect that mind, the droning chant drowned out all other thought. The chant was just sounds without meaning to one in the state of no-mind. But something in him heard those ancient holy words. Some instinct, some desire for the serenity he saw in his father.
Tian’s left hand reached down and pulled the rosary from his belt. He let it fall, hooking it with his thumb as he grabbed the demon finger with the other hand. He didn’t try to pull it out. The hand holding the rosary came up in front of his face. Parallel to his nose, hand bladed, thumb tucked against his palm. Something to focus on, in a state where thought could no longer exist.
His eyes slowly closed. There was only repeating breath. With every repetition, the cycle got slower and longer. Each indrawn breath filled his lungs past what a mortal would think they could hold, and each exhalation lasted longer than a mortal could survive. The smell of lotuses intensified around his body, then filled the room with divine fragrance. Where the demon finger pierced his chest, black necrotic flesh was hemmed in by a thin band of shimmering golden flesh, white smoke faintly rising from the confrontation.
This was the scene that the Red Plume Soldiers found when they came storming in. They stopped dead at the door for a moment. Frozen by the scene, the smells, the feeling of the concentrated qi in the air. Then they pressed in, rushing for Xiaobai. Each was a volunteer, willing to die for the General. Once they had her, they bowed towards the ‘corpse’ and retreated.
Next in was Hong Liren, accompanied by two old men. One was dressed in courtly robes, the other wore the same iron scale armor as the cavalrymen. They too stopped suddenly at the door.
The cavalryman grunted, looking unmoved but keeping his voice soft. “What do you make of it, old Zhou?”
“Like the… honored visitor said. He isn’t dead in a technical sense, but do you feel that qi?” The Civil Servant’s voice was no less soft, but his old friend could hear it trembling with rage.
“I can smell the flowers.”
“Lotus Return Seven Severings. There is no doubt. This Venerable…” The scholar chopped out each word like he was cutting iron nails. “Next time I see someone claiming to be an ascetic, I’m going to punch them in the fucking neck.”
“Language, Censor.” The cavalryman sounded like he would have chuckled under other circumstances.
“Fuck that, what else could it be? The yang qi full of wood and water, the scent of lotuses in the air, the plainly young flesh that is burning itself alive to bind sin!” The old man in courtly robes looked ready to spit with fury.
“All those accumulated years of power. Decades, centuries, spent cultivating the lotus within. Burned in a single night. My scouts reported that he was level six when he fought the mercenaries. Ji was only level five. How far was he willing to burn himself down?” The cavalryman asked, voice still soft.
The censor pointed. “That far. That’s how far he is willing to go. No wonder he said he was willing to die without a name or a grave. My tortoise shell exploded this afternoon, and on the largest piece was the character VIRTUE. The city’s fortune will be purified by this sacrifice. There won’t even be ashes left of his corpse at the end. All for a city he had never seen, and a girl he had never met. Meanwhile, we let our feet be nailed to the palace floor due to politics. Due to interests and face. We have been too soft, Old Bei. We have been too understanding. Our duty is to the kingdom, not to local interests. Suffer not the heretic to live. Not one more day. Not one more hour.”
The cavalryman nodded slightly. “The Ma boy already has the kids on their horses. You just tell them where to ride.”
“No fear. I have a list.” The Censor pulled out a scroll from his storage ring, then looked over at the visitor from Ancient Crane Mountain.
“Hong, you said your name was. Any relation to the Burning Heavens Chamber of Commerce?”
“My family… once owned such a Chamber, Censor Zhou.” Hong had been keeping quiet and letting her elders reach their own conclusions.
“Shame what happened to them. Damned shame.” The cavalryman nodded. Hong just bowed her head.
“You said he wanted you to carry his body away from the city?”
“Yes. He said he would… seal the demon, but that ‘A little monk should be humble. Carry his empty flesh far, far away, lest he harm the innocent by overestimating his strength.’”
Censor Zhou swung his fist out and shattered the doorframe into dust. “My hand slipped.”
“Your hand slipped.” The cavalryman agreed.
“Go. We will speak to the others from your sect about this. There will be consequences. But we won’t disrespect his sacrifice by talking about it here. Take his body and run north. Keep running until the body evaporates. I expect all that will be left is the finger and the rosary, damn it all to Hell.” The cavalryman pointed in the direction she was to run in.
Hong bowed and gently scooped Tian off the ground. The old men marked how the monk seemed weightless in her arms, and hid their shivers. She bowed again, and kicked an exterior wall out. She jumped, landing light as a feather on the ground.
“Clear a path to the North Gate! Clear a path and salute the Martyr Venerable!” The voice of a general roared out from the mansion and covered the whole city. Iron clad cavalry pounded down the thoroughfares, driving pedestrians into the alleys or back into their homes.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from NovelFire. Please report it.
Word had reached them about what happened. The City Lord’s daughter, the General’s granddaughter, Little Bai, had been stolen by evil cultivators. A good monk burned away his immortal life to save her. And now his body was being carried out of the city, sealing the demonic weapon. One last service for the people by a monk without a name.
The cavalry had no tolerance for slowness or disobedience. Not tonight.
Hong set off at a gentle jog, running faster than the fastest horse in the army. Her every step touched softly upon the road but the sound of her footfalls reverberated as though a mountain had descended. Hong ran for the north and the steppes, watched by a wide eyed city. A legendary immortal, carrying a legendary monk. It was a night that no one in Burning Flag city would forget.
Hong carried Tian out of the city and up into the rolling steppes. She ran faster once she left the road, no longer worried about damaging someone with the speed of her passing. Faster and faster, then vanishing from mortal sight. The only sign of her passing was the swaying grass, and not a single stalk was bent or broken.
Once she was out of sight of the city, she started pulling out talismans. Talismans to obscure her trail, to block the senses of others, to create false trails of qi. Talismans to suppress curses and purify the dead. Everyone carried a lot of those. At least, anyone who had been fighting out on the red sands.
She found a dip in the mostly flat land, a shallow hollow between two short rises, and lay Tian down in it.
“Don’t pull it out without a plan to stop the bleeding. Now you actually sound like a doctor.” Hong muttered. She reached out and gently pulled the basket off Tian’s head. It was so stained and damaged at this point it practically disintegrated under her touch. She let out her own long exhale when she saw his peaceful face.
“Alright, Little Doctor Tian. The patient is unresponsive and smells annoyingly good for someone who is literally covered in human offal. Like… unreasonably good. I once saw a sister hide a wagonload of smuggled spiritual wine in her bellybutton, and it’s still not as weird as ‘My armpits smell better than your perfume.’ The patient also, minor point, probably irrelevant, has the single most cursed weapon I have ever seen buried so far in his chest it’s almost poking out the other side. So how do I break the curse and pull out the weapon without killing him?”
The only answer she got was the wind stirring the grass.
She buried her face in her hands. “Don’t die. Just… don’t die. Okay? I can feel you fighting. You are always so damn mad about cruel things. Be mad about this. Fight this. And just… don’t die.” She groped for words and couldn't find them. She pressed her forehead to her knees, and fell silent. Hoping Tian would wake up. Waiting for something to change.
In the confines of Tian’s mind, there was the sharp report of cracking knuckles.
I’ve been building this up since the Six Turns Cavern. We have the elemental charm, we have the righteous aura, we have the popular support. I’ve had a year to study the Hell Suppressing Sutra. We even have a free power supply jammed right into your chest. Time for these old bones to make a move.
Heh. That rat-fucker is going to be so mad. What a shame, what a shame. My grandson is just too good for your rat-fuckery.
Let me show you. The last words came out with the kind of growl that told cave men that they’d never make another mistake.
Ghostly hands formed mudra, and a new voice was joined to the chant coming from the statue in Tian’s lower dantian.
Hellbreaker, Heavens shattering, Earth consuming, Man destroying. The annihilation of the elements, the stagnation of yin and yang, the inversion of the Way and Virtue. Cut. Draw the Iron Plow down from Melechior. Cut. The Cycle of Rebirth. Cut. Sage thoughts. Cut. Let nothing contend. Cut. Let nothing strive. Cut. Let the cycle of the universe end. Cut. Let nothing remain. Cut.
The little valley got cold, fast. Fog gathered around them. Hong shot to her feet clutching a fistfull of purification talismans, but hesitated. She touched her hand to her chest. Her face grew confused, then wondering.
From the triumph of entropy, one stands. Rise. From the frozen chaos one makes order. Rise. From infinite suffering, one brings ease. Rise. One has everything and needs nothing. Rise. One becomes two. Rise. Two begets the cycle. Rise. From the cycle all metaphysics is born. Rise. As above, so below. As within, so without. Sage Thought transcends illusion, the material instructs the Ox Driving Boy and the Weaver Girl, carrying their treasures to the Muddy Pit. Cold Air rises through the many layered pagoda, glazing the tiles and forming a treasure.
Hong collapsed to her knees, slapping talismans on herself and staring in horror as nothing happened. She clawed at her throat, her body. Fingers strong enough to rip stone like paper left bloody furrows in her flesh. Furrows that filled with golden light and healed before her disbelieving eyes.
Three cinnabar fields. Eighteen imperial roads. The long limbed tree and the sacred lands. I call upon the Pole Star! I call upon the Sun and Moon! Obey the decree of the Jade Emperor! Let that which should be fixed, be fixed, and for all else, TURN!
The demon’s finger burned. The golden yang flames rose up around it, feeding on the demonic qi and refining it into nurturing yin.The healing yin qi poured into Tian. It thundered through his fleshy body, sweeping all traces of curses and sin up with it. Drowning them in pure yin. Then the Hell Suppressing Sutra spun and transformed that yin into burning yang. Bones hardened, taking on a faint luster of jade. Veins grew more elastic, more resilient. His blood thickened and deepened in color, rich with vital energy. His muscles tightened and hardened before soft yin gentled them once more.
He looked holy. He was holy. His body glowed with golden merit, the saintly aura seeping deep into him. One hand still clutched the rosary, his face at peace. Hong’s breath came in gasps, unable to look away. Her body was faintly wreathed in golden mist, then it vanished as mysteriously as it came.
The moment passed. Tian’s body returned to normal. Or as normal as his plainly not-normal body got, anyway.
Some instinct caused Hong to look up. Clouds were gathering in the clear night sky. Red lightning cracked in them. Not a lot of clouds. Not a lot of lightning. But it would be more than enough to kill a wounded boy. Enough to kill her too, unless she ran.
She had barely survived the last time she saw these clouds, and she had only caught the aftershocks.
Hong Liren looked up for a long minute, then stood up. She flexed her strong fingers and took a deep breath, held it, and released it. She called out a beautiful golden talisman to her hand. Far more elaborate than what made its way to the Outer Court. The word “SWORD” was written on it in ancient script.
“This… surely counts as an inescapable, certain death emergency, right?” She held up the sword talisman gifted to her by Elder Rui what felt like a lifetime ago. She aimed it up at the sky, and tore the paper.
A sword, golden, city crushing, all conquering, flew up into the clouds. A genuine Heavenly Person attack talisman, capable of resolving any danger a mere Earthly Person might encounter. It struck mightily at the gathering storm, and achieved nothing. It vanished without a ripple.
“Oh that’s just not fair. That’s cheating! Old Mad Dog was only at Level Ten, and he killed one of you with his bare hands.”
The heavens ignored the cries of injustice, as they always did. Hong stared up a few seconds longer. Something wavered in her eyes. Flickering. On the verge of collapse. Then her eyes turned hard as the Southern Mountain.
Hong Liren pulled out her spear. It wasn’t the one she usually used. This one was ancient, a small hammered iron head on the end of a dull wooden shaft. She gently wiped her fingers along it, then glared up at the sky.
“Not this time. Not again. You don’t get to take this one.”
She gathered her strength and straightened her spine, wild eyed in her messy robes. Tanned flesh stood strong upon the earth, a sun burning in her eyes. She threw her head back, stabbed her spear at the sky and screamed.
“I, HONG LIREN, AM NOT SOMEONE EVEN THE HEAVENS CAN LOOK DOWN ON! FIGHT ME YOU COWARD HEAVENS! I’M RIGHT HERE AND DAMNED IF I’M TAKING ONE STEP BACK!”