Xiao Nanhui blinked, letting the faint dew-drops fall from her eyelashes.
A light breeze still drifted through the summer night in the mountains. The soft grass on the ridge bowed low; as the wind passed, it intermittently revealed three figures crouching there.
They had been lying in wait on this ridge for half an hour. The vantage point offered a wide view, stretching from the silty banks of the Hun River to the mountain hollow where the Shen clan was entrenched.
However, as night descended once more upon Heimu County, everything here seemed different.
The herds of deer had vanished from the wetlands. Under the moonlight, not even a single waterbird could be seen upon the flat black sands.
No one left the port tonight. The river’s surface was exceptionally still, devoid of a single boat; the trackers and boatmen were nowhere to be found.
Flames burned quietly deep within those grottoes. From a distance, the mountains seemed to have grown red eyes, like the legendary deity known as the Sacrificial Horse, gazing down coldly from the darkness upon the living world.
When they had been inside earlier, it was difficult to perceive, but looking from afar, one could see that the grottoes were situated in a depression surrounded by mountain ridges—a naturally formed sinkhole. The bottom of the pit branched out in all directions, with a dense network of small paths weaving through the mountain mass. Even from a high vantage point, it was difficult to discern where each path led.
In the very center of this hollow lay a circular plaza paved with red gravel. It was pitch black, devoid of any firelight, and could only be partially glimpsed by the light of the moon.
They had expected the Shen clan to make a move in advance, but they hadn't expected it to be on such a grand scale.
Hundreds of young men and women knelt in the center of the plaza, chanting unintelligible runes in low voices. The oldest among them was no more than seventeen or eighteen. They sat shoulder to shoulder, forming a massive circle. The starting point of the circle faced the first mansion of the Turtle Constellation in the west—the position of the Deer’s Head. Standing there was Shen Shian, dressed in plain hemp robes.
After an unknown amount of time, Shen Shian finally moved.
Starting from the beginning of the circle, she walked along the perimeter of the seated crowd, inspecting them. She moved slowly, a trace of a kind smile appearing as her gaze swept over those young faces. The men and women who received this baptismal gaze all bowed their bodies low, not daring to look up at her.
The expressions on everyone's faces were so docile and submissive; they seemed to be waiting for something with profound piety, their countenances identical to those who went to temples to pray for divine protection.
Xiao Nanhui watched in amazement. She nudged the man beside her with her elbow and lowered her voice.
"Even when you were selecting beauties, surely there wasn't such a spectacle?"
The question slipped out without much thought. Only after she said it did she realize it was somewhat inappropriate, but the man had already picked up the thread.
"Indeed, there wasn't." His voice was soft, carrying a faint, indiscernible hint of a smile. "There never was before, and there never will be."
Xiao Nanhui fell silent, not daring to look back at the person lying beside her. She forced herself to focus her attention on Shen Shian in the distance.
Finally, Shen Shian’s footsteps stopped. Her gaze fell upon a particularly round, short, and stout figure in the crowd. She narrowed her eyes to examine the round head, the short and sturdy limbs, and the pile of discarded apricot pits on the ground.
Xiao Nanhui’s heart skipped a beat.
It was that child.
"Lift your head."
Shen Shian’s tone was one of great satisfaction.
The girl, however, seemed paralyzed with fear. She didn't move for a long time, her plump body shaking like a sieve.
Shen Shian frowned. Seeing this, the old woman who had been standing not far behind her stepped forward. The old woman reached out and felt the girl’s forehead, the top of her head, and the back of her skull, nodding continuously.
"The forehead is full, and the back of the head is flat. Congratulations, Matriarch, you have chosen a fine specimen."
Shen Shian stepped forward and took the child’s hand, her expression possessing a sort of childish innocence and sweetness.
"Are you afraid?"
The girl still didn't speak, only trembled.
Shen Shian extended a hand toward the old woman, who fished a piece of candy out of the bamboo basket behind her and placed it in Shen Shian’s palm.
Shen Shian held the candy close to the girl’s lips, her voice carrying a hint of seduction.
"Come, eat the candy. Once you eat it, you won't be afraid anymore."
The girl hesitantly opened her mouth, and the candy went in. The old woman then took the girl’s hand with one of hers and Shen Shian’s with the other, turning to walk toward the red-lit grottoes. The crowd of young men and women followed closely behind, entering the depths of the caves.
Xiao Nanhui stood up from her hiding spot. The wind dispersed some of the cold sweat on her neck. After a moment of deliberation, she said to the person beside her:
"I’ll go investigate. You stay here and let Ding Weixiang accompany you." Fearing her words lacked weight, she added earnestly, "This Shen family is dangerous at every turn. When we saw Shen Shian this morning, she clearly had designs on you. It’s not impossible that this whole show was staged to lure you in. Those grottoes are an enclosed space—easy to enter but hard to leave. If something unpredictable happens, it’ll be easier for me to escape alone..."
As she continued to ramble, the man stood up. He looked at the woman’s serious expression and asked airily:
"Do you know the way?"
Xiao Nanhui’s words cut off mid-sentence. Ding Weixiang’s laughter drifted over immediately—a laugh tinged with a rather unfriendly mockery that was quite irritating.
Xiao Nanhui chased after them.
"What are you laughing at?"
Ding Weixiang turned his head, his stern face perfectly composed.
"Did I laugh? You must have misheard."
She was about to press the matter further, but Su Wei caught up. The path down the mountain was somewhat steep, and the atmosphere gradually grew silent.
After a moment, she finally couldn't help but ask.
"They... they won't really do something to that child, will they?"
Su Wei’s figure swayed just ahead of her.
"If I haven't guessed wrong, that girl is the next 'vessel' Shen Shian has chosen."
"What vessel?"
"The current Matriarch of the Shen clan, Shen Shian, was born in the final years of the fallen state of Niexuan. She should be a centenarian by now. How could she possibly be a child who hasn't even reached the age of hair-tufts?"
Xiao Nanhui’s footsteps faltered. She instantly recalled what the old woman had said to her under the hanging flower gate. At the time, she had thought the mention of "straw dogs" referred to something primitive and barbaric, like the human sacrifices in some ancient villages of Bijiang. But at this moment, she finally understood the true purpose of those children.
They weren't even as good as sacrificial offerings; they were merely puppet skins for old and foolish power-holders on their path to longevity.
"If they are only being chosen as vessels for the descending deity, why must they be children? Wouldn't it be faster and better to choose those who are already grown?"
"The Xishen people believe that the human body holds the soul, much like different-shaped containers filled with water. A single body can originally only accommodate one soul. If something else tries to force its way in, a conflict will occur due to incompatibility. The soul of a man who has reached his capping ceremony is always much stronger and more steadfast than that of a child; it is not easily shaken, let alone evicted. Even if the 'descent of the god' succeeds once or twice, it often doesn't last. Therefore, to have a long-lasting vessel that doesn't easily go wrong, one must perhaps begin cultivating it from a very young age—destroying their mind and weakening their self-perception until they become a complete puppet."
It was as if a thin thread had threaded through her mind, connecting all the previous fragments. Xiao Nanhui almost blurted out:
"I know what happened with Zou Sifang now." Her voice was urgent, her speaking speed much faster than usual. "Before, I always thought Puhuna attacked Jiaosong County because he knew you would produce the three Secret Seals at the Dark Moon Festival. But that night, I encountered that eerie palace attendant in the traveling palace. That Xu Rui was clearly after me—or after something. If he hadn't sensed something, he would never have risked sneaking into the palace again after discovering the Secret Seal on the Changmi Platform was a fake."
"If there is only one person among Puhuna’s ranks who can sense the presence of the Secret Seals, then that person must be the 'Zou Sifang' who appeared in Jiaosong County. Or rather, the person inside Zou Sifang’s body at the time. Furthermore, the palace attendant I met in the traveling palace that night was very likely the same person. All of this seems absurd, but there is actually a subtle connection: both Zou Sifang and that attendant named Xu Rui had already died before the day they appeared."
After a human soul leaves the body, if the physical shell remains, something else will come to occupy it.
But what exactly was that "something"?
The figure ahead paused. Su Wei turned his face halfway toward her, his expression somewhat obscure in the night.
"What you say is correct, but you are missing one layer of connection. Zou Sifang was once on the brink of death due to a strange poison. Before his death, Xu Rui was a bedchamber official of the inner palace, and he had also taken leave for a serious illness several days before his crime. Both of them likely came into contact with a Secret Seal before their abnormal symptoms appeared."
Yes, she remembered now. On Xu Rui’s corpse, there had been a tiny, almost imperceptible puncture mark. She just didn't know if that mark was a trace left after touching the Secret Seal...
"So, is that why you didn't bring that thing with you?"
Before Su Wei could answer, he was stopped by a gesture from Ding Weixiang.
Unknowingly, they had approached the entrance to the grottoes. For safety's sake, the three of them fell silent in unison.
However, aside from the firelight, not a single person was visible within the various caves. Those young men and women, along with Shen Shian, seemed to have walked into a void, vanishing into thin air.
Xiao Nanhui refused to give up. She carefully searched around the largest main cave and finally discovered an inconspicuous hole.
The area directly beneath the stone platform surrounded by fire oil was actually hollow. A pitch-black opening was set into the ground behind it. Faint firelight flickered from deep within the hole, revealing a narrow and steep set of stone steps.
Ding Weixiang stepped forward to look, his expression shifting unpredictably.
"Master and Miss Xiao stay here. I will go down to investigate."
Xiao Nanhui rolled her eyes and said airily:
"Do you know the way?"
The feeling of making someone eat their words was truly wonderful.
Ding Weixiang choked. Xiao Nanhui wanted nothing more than to put her hands on her hips and laugh at the sky. But for the sake of their continued journey together, she restrained herself.
"This opening looks so narrow; your build might be inconvenient. It’s better if I go down to scout."
Ding Weixiang clearly refused. Just as he was about to argue, the man beside them finally spoke.
"How about you two go down, and I’ll wait for you here..."
"No!"
This time, Xiao Nanhui and Ding Weixiang finally formed a united front.
Su Wei waved his hand and made the final decision.
"Then the three of us shall go together."
The stone steps leading underground were even steeper than the mountain path from before. Ding Weixiang led the way, Su Wei was in the middle, and Xiao Nanhui brought up the rear. The three were silent once more, descending by the dim light around them.
After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the space around them suddenly opened up. It turned out to be an underground cavern. The stone steps spiraled down the inner walls of the cavern like a giant hibernating python, with the snake's head leading straight to the legendary gates of hell.
Many ever-burning lamps were lit beside the steps, their flames illuminating the ochre murals on the stone walls, which were still interspersed with many runic patterns.
Judging by the peeling and fading of the pigments, these paintings were not nearly as old as those in the Grottoes of the Se-Hill Parting Dream, and the artistry and mood were far inferior. Although the depictions were detailed, the brushwork was extremely stiff and the colors very monotonous, as if they had been painted merely to fulfill some task.
Xiao Nanhui’s gaze hurried over the murals. Because her mind was on Shen Shian, who had vanished into the hole, she had no intention of looking closely at what the paintings depicted. But just as she was about to look away, something caught her eye.
It was a massive mural that occupied nearly half the stone wall. Most of it was covered in crimson flames, and within the flames, countless heads seemed to be bobbing. In the center of the fire stood a person with arms outstretched and hands open. Although he wore a monk’s robe, his face was hideous and loathsome.
But none of these were the reason she stopped. What she cared about was the object on the ugly monk’s left wrist.
Although Buddhist prayer beads in this world were mostly similar, she felt that particular string was very familiar. Perhaps it was because of the varying sizes of the beads, or perhaps because of that rare and strange luster...
"The person in that painting might be my master, Wu Min."
Xiao Nanhui looked up in astonishment and found that he was also studying the mural.
"Your master... truly looked like this?"
Su Wei pondered for a moment, seemingly recalling the past.
"When I took him as my master, he was already an octogenarian, but he certainly didn't look like the person in the painting. I suppose the person who painted this had some grievances against him."
This was more than just "some grievances"; it would take an irreconcilable blood feud to paint a monk with such a countenance.
A strong premonition surged in her heart, followed by a sudden sense of regret.
"Since he is a person in this painting, he must have known many of the Shen clan’s secrets. It’s a pity he is no longer here, and the secrets in this painting are known to no one."
"I don't think they are necessarily known to no one." The man’s voice was cold to the core. "It seems the incense money donated over the years was a bit too much, teaching even a monk guarding a desolate mountain and bitter waters how to lie."
***
In the main hall of Yongye Temple, before the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine oil lamps.
The young abbot sneezed violently, then sniffed.
Strange. It was midsummer; by all rights, the time for night chills to invade the body had long passed. Why did he feel a chill on the back of his neck instead?
He looked at the oil lamps, only half of which were lit. He felt his kasaya growing heavier and heavier, and the wrist holding the oil bowl grew more and more sore.
He cleared his throat.
"Zhu Yu?"
No one answered from outside the hall.
Yikong glanced at the sky outside. It was just past the hour of the Rooster; his lazy disciple’s sleeping hours were getting earlier and earlier.
Composing himself, he cleared his throat again.
"Ping'er?"
Still, no one answered from outside the hall.
Yikong stared at the wooden fish in front of him, picked up the small gold-wrapped bronze hammer beside it, and struck it three times with force.
"Baosan!"
After a long while, a small novice monk, neither tall nor short and as thin as an umbrella handle, appeared stumbling at the hall door.
"Ma-Master, what is it?"
Yikong took a deep breath to regain his calm and continued to fuss with the oil lamps with feigned composure.
"I heard someone ring the bell at the mountain gate just now. Has someone been sent to check?"
Baosan twisted his body at the door, one hand clutching his ill-fitting waistband and the other trying to pull on a half-slipped shoe.
"It... it seems Zhu Yu went to look. He... he hasn't come back yet."
Yikong’s hand, which was adding lamp oil, paused.
"How long has he been gone?"
"Le... less than half an hour."
A light breeze blew through, and the oil lamp that had just been lit suddenly went out.
Rubbing his fingers, Yikong lifted his kasaya and stood up.
"I just remembered, today seems to be the Buddha's Birthday of the Ancient Buddha Huche'er."
Ancient Buddha Huche'er? What Buddha was that? Why had he never heard of him?
The little novice scratched his head secretly, worried his ignorance would be seen through by the abbot. But the abbot spoke again.
"Let’s cancel the evening lessons for tonight. Go and call everyone to the main hall for a vigil. Close the hall doors tight; no one is to go out until dawn."
Baosan’s face fell, thinking he was being punished for his laziness, yet he felt the punishment was a bit too severe.
"Ma-Master, I... I think..."
Yikong walked a few steps closer to him and suddenly reached out to rap the novice’s head. Not more, not less—exactly three times.
"Go, quickly."
Baosan was stunned. He said no more, pressed his palms together in assent, and ran off. He looked much more agile than when he had arrived.
In the monastery kitchen, two or three courtyards behind the main hall, another figure was moving stealthily along the base of the wall.
Hao Bai had three roasted flatbreads tucked in his robes and four or five eggs cradled in his front lap. His feet moved like the wind, and his face was full of the joy of a successful harvest.
He was well-versed in the art of "crossing the sea under cover" on enemy territory. Back then, he had stayed in that bandit den in Bijiang for two or three months; the eggs he had stolen and the wool he had plucked were countless. How could a mere broken temple in the wilderness stop him?
After several turns, he left the backyard where the firewood was piled and headed straight for the Sutra Library. At the thought of being able to enjoy some freshly roasted egg-filled flatbreads in a moment, his mouth watered.
However, as soon as he stepped into the hall, he sensed something was wrong.
Although the place where he worked was messy, he always remembered exactly where things were placed. It should definitely not be in the state it was now.
The sound of someone rummaging through chests and cupboards came from within the hall, without the slightest attempt at concealment, radiating a sense of impatience and urgency.
The candle in the hall had only half a wick left when he left, and now it was out. He could only light an oil lamp and look forward.
This time, he clearly saw the narrow soft sword hanging at the person's waist; it looked exceptionally familiar.
However, his eyes, which had spent long hours studying herbal texts in the dark, were now somewhat dim. He didn't quite dare to confirm what he saw.
"Lieutenant Lu?"
He called out tentatively. The person’s movements stopped, but they didn't turn around.
Hao Bai swallowed his saliva and moved a few steps closer with the oil lamp.
The dim yellow candlelight shone on the fine armor of the Black Feather Camp, reflecting a luster like an insect’s carapace, as if it were coated in a layer of oil... or blood.
Hao Bai stopped abruptly. The flatbreads and eggs in his arms fell one after another, clattering and smashing into a mess, as if they were his own shattered courage and heart.
The person finally turned around. It was indeed the likeness of Lu Songping. But the expression on that face was exceptionally stiff, as if someone were wearing a poor-quality human skin mask while talking to him.
"Where... did you put the thing?"
Hao Bai blinked. His two legs, which were already soft from not having dinner, quietly moved backward.
"What thing?"
That 'Lu Songping' did not speak. Instead, he drew his sword with a "shring."
Hao Bai immediately slapped his thigh as if having a sudden realization, his voice trembling as it rose significantly.
"Ah! I remember, I remember. It’s right over there."
He pointed randomly toward the old bookshelves. The opponent didn't move, but the tip of the sword extended forward like a silver snake flicking its tongue.
"You, go get it."
Hao Bai stiffened. Staring at the bright sword tip, he cautiously shuffled toward the bookshelf.
The three or four tiers of old bookshelves were covered in dust; only the bottom tier had been cleared out to place things. Now, it was covered with a dark, coarse cloth, hiding whatever was beneath it.
"Hurry."
The 'Lu Songping' began to urge him. He swallowed his saliva, one hand reaching to lift the half-covered cloth while the other retracted into his sleeve. Then, he took a deep breath and suddenly whipped the cloth away, simultaneously throwing everything in his sleeve out in one go.
A cloud of fine smoke wrapped in the black cloth fell over 'Lu Songping’s' head. Hao Bai was delighted, but before he could celebrate, a silver light slashed down from above, splitting the black cloth in two.
He only had time to retreat half a step before he felt a chill on his left shoulder; half a sleeve had been separated from his garment.
The white-robed doctor was so scared his legs went weak. He crawled on the ground, muttering:
"Murder, mur..."
He had only whimpered a few words when he suddenly heard the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground behind him. Trembling, he looked back and saw the young monk standing at the door, panting.
A massive wooden fish on the ground rolled and rolled until it finally stopped. The 'Lu Songping' lay face down on the ground—it was unclear whether the knockout smoke had taken effect or the wooden fish had done the job.
"Yi... Yikong?"
Hao Bai’s heart was still pounding. It took a long while for him to crawl up from the ground, his disheveled clothes making him look quite pathetic.
The handsome monk glanced at him, clearly concerned about something else.
"Is the thing still there?"
Hao Bai nodded. He walked quickly to the brazier used for decocting medicine, fished out a square object, and hurriedly tucked it into his robes.
Yikong waved his sleeves, trying to disperse the fine smoke in the air, but he still coughed twice when he spoke.
"Has Patron Hao made great progress these past few days and researched some winning secret medicine?"
Hao Bai paused, then spoke steadily.
"An ancestral formula. It works very well."
Nonsense.
That was a knockout powder he had specially formulated for stealing chickens. Usually, two mace were enough for one chicken. To steal more, he had brought four taels, and he had just used it all. It wouldn't be a problem to knock out ten people.
After speaking, his gaze fell on the massive wooden fish on the ground.
"Was what the Abbot just unleashed a temple-protecting treasure specially made to suppress these evil spirits?"
Yikong also paused, then spoke calmly.
"A treasure passed down through the temple. It has some blessings."
Of course.
That wooden fish was stuffed with the incense money he had saved for half a year. In a month, he could save at least twenty or thirty taels; half a year was over a hundred taels. With that weight coming down, an ordinary person would likely be killed or maimed.
The previous old grudges seemed to be wiped clean. The white-robed doctor and the young monk were silent for a moment, then stepped forward in unison to cautiously look at the unconscious Lu Songping. Suddenly, they were in perfect accord.
"What do we do next?"
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
觜宿 | Turtle Constellation | One of the twenty-eight mansions of the Chinese constellations.
总角 | Age of hair-tufts | A term for childhood (approx. 8-14 years old), referring to the way children's hair was styled.
刍狗 | Straw dogs | A reference to the Tao Te Ching; objects treated with indifference after their ritual use is over.
弱冠 | Capping ceremony | Refers to a young man reaching the age of twenty.
内殿寝官 | Bedchamber official | A palace official responsible for the emperor's living quarters.
香积厨 | Monastery kitchen | Literally "Fragrant Accumulation Kitchen," a traditional name for a Buddhist temple kitchen.
木鱼 | Wooden fish | A wooden percussion instrument used by Buddhist monks during rituals.
一空 | Yikong | The name of the young abbot of Yongye Temple.
烛鱼 | Zhu Yu | A young novice monk at Yongye Temple.
宝伞 | Baosan | Another young novice monk at Yongye Temple.
无皿 | Wu Min | Su Wei's master, a monk.
