Chapter 457: The Spiritual Odyssey
Translator: Transn Editor: Transn
“The Yunyan Mansion?”
“The Yunyan Mansion!”
Zhangsun Jing and Wishful Monk both gave gasps of astonishment. Never would they have thought that Meng Qi would dare attempt a visit even after despite their insistent caution!
They would have seen the decision to visit as an ill-advised judgment if it were anyone else but Meng Qi. None would have doubted the difference in strength between a Grandmaster and Meng Qi. Not even the Evil Prince of Old who was feared by all for his diabolic powers had escaped shameful defeat at the hands of the Devil Empress. Scores of skilled warriors, with the stoutest of courage, had taken the leap of faith, but were all humbled into submission.
Yet, this was ‘God-petrifying Sword’ Meng Qi, the one who had smote the Evil Prince with the Sky Thunder from the high heavens above! No one could challenge the impossible and triumph save for Meng Qi!
It had been five years it has been since his triumph of impossible odds against the Evil Prince and could say for sure what heights his powers had scaled to!
After all, Meng Qi was by no means someone who trotted about arrogantly or put on airs. Instead, he had drifted into obscurity even at the height of prominence.
It must mean that he had absolute confidence in his strength and power!
Additionally, they could hardly believe that ‘God-petrifying Sword’ Meng Qi would misjudge the strength of his nemesis, Living Buddha. He was, after all, the one who had been bestowed guidance and advice by Sword Emperor, and had been the Devil Empress’s chosen confederate.
Trembling with anticipation, they turned slowly to each other. Their eyes met as an unspoken thought flashed through their minds,
“Has he broken through all adversities, and entered amongst the ranks of the Great Grandmasters?”
Given his age, it would be an unprecedented feat!
He stood, his long and slender hands by his side. Who would have known that these delicate hands had dispensed such wanton death and destruction? Still, redolent and lazy he seemed, but he hid a power they had yet to witness.
Slowly, with relaxed grace, he spun and walked out of the doors of the suite without waiting for the shock-shocked Zhangsun Jing and Wishful Monk. He went down the wooden stairs and out of Xiaoxiang Restaurant. He waded through the busy throng with his signature air of vague but interested amusement and slipped into the adjacent street where the Yunyan Mansion stood.
He could hear people approaching from behind. It was Zhangsun Jing and Wishful Monk running towards him.
“Young-Young Master Meng,” Zhangsun Jing called, gasping as he caught up. “I have sought you through forest and fen for five tedious year. Long had I waited to fittingly express my gratitude for your kindness and guidance, but my pursuit had always been in vain and I gathered no tidings of your whereabouts. Where have you been all these years?” he asked delicately.
“Watching the sunrise, gazing at the stars and pondering on the laws and the workings of our world and nature,” Meng Qi revealed, only partially true.
“Ah. The most leisurely and carefree life of seclusion it must have been,” Zhangsun Jing remarked weakly, with a brief and dry laugh. A great lover of the cacophony and the industry of a busy and lively environment, he could not fathom the life his benefactor had been leading. Still, he could not shake the feeling that his benefactor’s answer had been overly ambiguous and was not completely answering his question.
Yet, he remained silent, not wanting to pry.
As if on cue, Meng Qi turned his head, “Why? Do you doubt?”
“Never, my good sir, never! Hardly can I comprehend the pleasures of a simple and quiet life in recluse. I merely find boisterous roars of laughter and the chatters of mouths stuffed with meat and wine are more agreeable,” Zhangsun Jing explained hastily.
Beside him, Wishful Monk nodded slightly, murmuring, “An aptitude for Buddhahood you may have, Master Meng, despite not being a monk, to be able to dispel anxiety and restlessness and contemplate nature in peace.”
He had observed that Meng Qi had Buddhist roots from the times when they dueled.
“Honeyed flattery indeed. Vile…” Meng Qi thought, frowning. He walked toward Yunyan Mansion without speaking a word, knowing it to be a particular peeve of Wishful Monk.
When they reached the entrance of the Yunyan Mansion, four hulking guards stood at the gates, defending the entrance from unwanted knaves, while two men in foreign garb stood within the gate.
“This is the Emissary’s Residence. Please leave if you are not here on business,” barked one of the guards.
“There has been word that the present Living Buddha is here. I’ve come to seek his guidance,” Meng Qi answered with a gentle smile.
He was determined to meet Living Buddha from the moment he had heard of Living Buddha’s powers to draw mortals into the Samsara realm.
He had always been troubled about whether his past reincarnation and Ananda could be closely intertwined within the Karmic webs of fates. His technique, the Supernatural Power of Shaking Heaven and Earth was not able to summon visions of his past reincarnation’s memories, unless with the assisstance of someone related to him throughout all past incarnations and had experienced the vision together. But surely he would not have such fortituous opportunity.
“Surely I would not go so far as to take offense with Living Buddha’s vow to transcend this human realm?”
Rather than erupting into a fit of anger, the guards laughed loudly at Meng Qi’s request. “Impossible! How could Living Buddha be here in the Yunyan Mansion? Leave now!”
“I’m God-petrifying Sword,” Meng Qi announced quietly.
“God-petrifying Sword? What God-petrifying…” The guardsman’s voice trailed off as the true meaning of the name finally dawned upon him. The foreign men behind the gates exchanged glances blankly, hardly believing the words that escaped from Meng Qi’s mouth.
Swiftly collecting himself, one of the foreign men stepped forward and spoke to Meng Qi with the well-mannered speech of the Central Plains, “Please wait a moment.”
He turned and entered the building.
The guardsmen and the lone foreign man studied Meng Qi suspiciously, albeit with fear. The name of God-petrifying Sword still commanded fear and respect no matter his five years of absence from battle.
He had escorted Lu Guan across far and distant lands into the capital, defeating scores of swordsmen who have dared to cross blades with him. He had infiltrated, unnoticed, into the Yunyan Mansion and stolen away with him the true emissary. He had defeated the Violet Blade at his hands, remarking proudly that the sword was too noble a weapon to muddy with his foe’s blood. He had slipped into the imperial palace under the cover of night, dismissing the meticulously-laden traps as futile attempts to ensnare him, and had smote Evil Prince to death by the divine help of the Sky Thunder. He had stormed past the sturdy defenses of the Crown Prince’s Residence and had him slain him before the very eyes of the great warriors of the martial world… Even one single feat would have made one famous beyond measure through the empire. Yet, again and again, Meng Qi had triumphed time after time against impossible odds, merciless foes and mounting trials.
Bored of waiting, Zhangsun Jing turned to Meng Qi, “Since your retreat into silence, Young Master, there has been knaves and thieves who have brazenly claimed the name of the God-petrifying Sword as their own. Yet none of the youngsters have boasted the strength of its true claimant. Worse, there had been word of a charlatan who had claimed your name and mimicked the disposition and demeanor that mirrored yours. He pursued the affection of a swordswoman, only to be dishonorably defeated by the lady in mere strokes.”
Meng Qi listened to these stories with mild interest, maintaining his gaze on the contingent of curious guards before him.
The warden from the Western wastelands soon returned. “The emissary bids you three welcome,” he invited graciously, feigning indifference despite his obvious suspicion as he studied Meng Qi. He wondered why Meng Qi had come when he knew of the Living Buddha’s pledge to deliver him to his demise!
The guards led Meng Qi and his companions into the Yunyan Mansion. It would seem that nothing had changed in the mansion even after his disappearing for half a decade.
The company was led to the large common room of the mansion. There were many people gathered in the room, but Meng Qi’s sights were set on only one as soon as they entered.
He sat in the center of the assembly of people. His robes draped across his chest, left a shoulder bare as was the fashion of the wild lands of the West. He sat tall and proud with an air of esteemed nobility and dignity. Fair was his skin, as the fairest of jades, his face was ageless, neither old nor young, venerable yet enigmatic. His eyes were as clear as a silver brook, in it spirals that resembled a vortex of unspeakable depth, like the ripples in a still lagoon in which lurked unspoken horrors.
Their eyes met across the room. Meng Qi’s eyes were grey as a gloomy dusk, a chasm of unknown depth, like a falling night with no stars or moon.
“It really is the present Living Buddha…” Zhangsun Jing choked, blinking his eyes in astonishment. He had once beheld the presence of the infamous priest from afar during one of the Northern Campaign skirmishes against the invaders of the West. But the Sword Emperor had not drawn his sword then, otherwise he would have witnessed the greatness of the Grand Sun Anti-Fire Wheel and the fabled prowess of Sword Emperor with his own eyes.
Everything and everyone around them faded away when their eyes met. It was like Meng Qi and his adversary had stepped into a separate dimension, one which only held them and their flowing Qi energies. Slowly and gradually, grainy silhouettes of their surroundings began to come back into view.
“Word came that Living Buddha wishes to deliver me from the living, so here I am,” announced Meng Qi, taking a step forward. With his step, a powerful surge of energies surged forth like the tempestuous waves of the seas.
In a peculiar accent of the tongue of the Central Plains, Living Buddha answered, rising slowly from his seat, “Evil must be vanquished, in order for the Just to persevere.”
He stood at his seat, in the center of all things, overseeing the Samsara realms like a true Buddha.
Without pause, their battle began!
The skies atop the Yunyan Mansion began to grow stormy gray and cloudy. Darkness slowly took hold until was black as night. The clouds swirled wildly but no rain came, not a single crack of thunder or flash of lightning. The dark mass of clouds spun in the sky like an whirlwind from hell from which demons would spring forth.
The company of Zhangsun Jing, Wishful Monk, the emissary of the West and the rest of the congregation began to vanish from sight in a fleeting blur. The view around them began to swirl and change and it slowly turned into a narrow and small room.
Only a table and a bed could be seen within the room. A chair would have made exit and entry difficult.
Bundles of clothes filled a chest that sat just behind the door, allowing only a thin gap for a person to pass through.
This was his life. The life of his former reincarnation was decrepit and disappointing, where all hope had seemed bleak and distant… Meng Qi was not surprised by the sudden appearance of his vision. Facing his adversary had predisposed him, more so when it was an unforgettable ordeal.
A computer sat before him on the table. He powered it on, watching lines of indecipherable green text roll down the screen. The screen then buzzed loudly and flickered wildly for a brief moment before an image appeared.
The image was of an old man. A man of venerable poise and stately bearing, wise from winters. In his hands, he held a Buddhist scripture, and he was diligently studying the contents of the sutra.
Without a doubt, Meng Qi surmised his identity. He was Living Buddha, or more veraciously, the former Living Buddha, the predecessor to his present heir.
Slowly, as if prompted, the elderly man turned his head to face Meng Qi. Their eyes met and again the scene changed around him in a flash. Uncontrollable rage and pain suddenly filled Meng Qi. Tears poured out frantically as he tried to breathe. Before him, stood a burning building in a blazing inferno. A Japanese soldier stood beside him. His pregnant wife was lying no far from him, dead. Her stomach was ripped opened and there lay his stillborn child, dead with the umbilical cord still attached.
Awashwith savage fury and anger, Meng Qi lunged at the soldier in the throes of maniacal frenzy, seething with hate and fury.
Bang! A blast of gunfire, and once again, all was naught but darkness before him.
A flicker of a small burning candle awakened him. In a large prayer room, he sat, now as an old and wizened grandmother. He had pleaded for blessing for his family and as he reverently murmured words of prayers. All was quiet and peace as a serene smile he wore on his wrinkled and creased face until he breathed his last.
Another wave of wrath, contempt, and dismay ran through him. Once again, he awakened only to find himself being hoisted in a bamboo cage. Scores of clamorous villagers walked him to a nearby pond.
“How dare you! Caught in the acts of intimacy before your marriage!” her parents screamed, their former love and affection all but replaced with vicious shrieks and curses as if love was but a sentiment that had withered. “Into the pond she goes! Let her drown!”
Greenish water splashed into the cave and began to rise up over his mouth and nose. Lights of the flickering flaming brands held by the villagers caught his eye as his scene began to shift again. A girl came into view. Bandits had taken her and had defiled her. Many times she sought death but each time she was rescued. Through divine providence, she found peace and gained enlightenment, and joined an order of nuns.
Again and again, fading memories of his past reincarnations flew before him. His former lives as a Taoist, a scholar, a common woman flashed by, whilst the Living Buddha experienced his former rebirths as a butcher, an eagle, a general and others that followed.
The more visions that came to them, the fewer the recollections that remained, leaving only brief moments of their past.
Finally, he awakened to nothing before him. Nothing but an expanse of complete whiteness before his eyes. The primordial beginning of his incarnations.
“Is there nothing?”
“Not even Ananda?”
Opposite him, through the white expanse, he saw Living Buddha, still reliving the visions of his former incarnations, all of which had ended in the pursuit of the Teachings of Buddhism.
As he neared the beginning of his reincarnations, a lustrous gleam shrouded his body. A miniature sun, burning brightly as its equal in the skies, rose gently behind his back.
Together, they had glimpsede their infinite past. An inevitable reckoning was afoot. Only one of them would be able to leave the endless cycle of their former reincarnations lest they decay here as one for eternity.
It was an awareness they both shared!
Meng Qi had returned to his earliest origin of pure nothingness. Yet more powers came to Living Buddha as he went through his former lives, the miniature sun behind him blazed more radiantly than ever.
All did not seem to bode well for Meng Qi! The match of their strength would have been settled in an instant!
In the common room, Zhangsun Jing and the rest of the occupants of the hall watched as the frozen Living Buddha’s hands formed a circle that resembled the Grand Sun. A radiant glow sprung forth from his body, the brilliant illumination of the Grand Sun.
“The Grand Sun comes forth! Has Living Buddha attained the pinnacle of his skills?” asked the Emissary with delighted amazement.
Meanwhile, Meng Qi stood, grey and sullen, his hollow eyes staring forward like a lifeless corpse!
“What shall we do?”
“Shall we cut them off by force?”
Zhangsun Jing and Wishful Monk looked at each other. A shiver of foreboding ran down their spines, fearing for Xiao Meng’s fate.
Even as they spoke there came a loud sigh. It was Meng Qi, Zhangsun Jing now saw. He had sighed aloud. One hand he raised up high above his head, pointing to the heavens above, whilst his other hand pointed to the ground.
Immediately, his stature and bearing grew in size until he towered over them all. His height filled the skies and his feet stood firm and sturdy, a hulking presence that dwarfed all that stood in the room!
“What is this?” wondered everyone, fear and awe shot through them, unbidden.
In the spiritual plane, they both stood against each other. The miniature sun blazing handsomely grew in brilliance behind Living Buddha, steadily growing in grandeur. Suddenly Meng Qi vanished. In his place sat the figure of a golden Buddha. Massive he was as if the three thousand realms of the Trichiliocosm was stowed away within himself! He thrust a finger to a sky, a finger that magnified his presence, a presence of peace, of benevolence, and of salvation!
Having braved all odds to have come, Meng Qi would certainly have a hidden trick up his sleeve.
Meng Qi’s mastery of the Eight Nine Mysteries at his Ninth Apertures augmented his ability to subtly mirror the sensation and feel of the first stroke of the Buddha’s Palm! The mental defenses of Living Buddha would be shattered into bits by its powers!
In a dignified and benign tone, the voice of the Golden Buddha rumbled,
“Repent thyself to the shores awaiting; From the seas of worldly bitterness that flailed unfailing!”
The Buddha spoke, his voice thunderous and booming. The wide-eyed Living Buddha gasped as the Grand Sun he had conjured began to falter.
“Repent thyself to the shores awaiting; From the seas of worldly bitterness that flailed unfailing!”