Chapter 15: A Hundred Infants Sacrificed for Eternal Life, The Vajra Slain in the Name of Heaven (Part One)
by GideonAt the mention of poison, Wen Jin immediately dropped his chopsticks. He stared at the simple dishes on the table, his eyes filled with skepticism. “You haven’t even touched the utensils. How can you be sure the food is poisoned?”
Just as the words left his lips, he remembered Lan Xiangru’s claim that he had tasted a hundred poisons and could detect the slightest trace of any.
Wen Jin asked in horror, “We harbor no grudge against the monks of this temple. Why would they poison us? This hardly seems like the conduct of a righteous sect.”
Lan Xiangru sneered. “Who told you the righteous sects are always upright and honest?”
Wen Jin looked at him, bewildered.
Lan Xiangru changed the subject. “Do you remember when we hid under Abbot Huiming’s bed a few days ago?”
Wen Jin nodded. “Of course I do.”
“That monk is the one who just returned.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The monk wore yellow Arhat shoes. His feet are thick and sturdy, and he walks with his toes pointed outward—a very distinctive gait,” Lan Xiangru explained. “I’ve finally remembered where I saw him before. He was one of the sedan-chair bearers in the Niu Family’s wedding procession.”
Wen Jin stared, speechless. “Does this mean our night excursion into the secret passage was discovered?”
“Perhaps he sensed us the moment we hid beneath the bed that day,” Lan Xiangru said, lifting a plate of plain vegetables and sniffing it. “But your battle with Shiyuan before you entered the temple gave him pause. He must have been feigning ignorance until now.” He set the plate back down. “This is Cultivation-Dissolving Powder. It isn’t lethal, but it will prevent you from channeling your internal energy for a short time.”
Huaguang Temple was no ordinary place, and the two of them had been recommended by Fengyue City. The monk wouldn’t have dared to act so recklessly without orders. He must have been acting on someone else’s instructions.
After a moment’s thought, a chill ran down Wen Jin’s spine. “Brother Lan, I’m afraid you cannot go to the Sutra Pavilion tonight.”
“I must go,” Lan Xiangru insisted.
“The ‘Mountain God’s Wedding’ is likely Huiming’s doing,” Wen Jin urged. “For the Abbot of Huaguang Temple to abduct virtuous women from all over Tang Province in the Mountain God’s name… this is surely no benevolent act. We must be cautious.”
“We are already fish on the chopping block,” Lan Xiangru replied. “How much more cautious can we be?”
Wen Jin furrowed his brows in deep thought, sighing softly.
Shaoqing lowered his voice. “Huaguang Temple and Fengyue City are both prominent families in the Central Plains Martial World. No matter how ambitious they are, they wouldn’t dare strike at Big Brother Feng so lightly. If he accompanies you tonight, he can likely keep you safe.”
Lan Xiangru silently accepted the proposal.
Wen Jin added, “You must keep Huiming occupied tonight. No matter what, I need to enter the secret passage again.”
Martial artists were known for their boundless spirit and unwavering loyalty, placing the highest value on the concept of xia—chivalry. Since Wen Jin had pulled Lan Xiangru from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, he would naturally not abandon Miss Niu in the secret passage.
Lan Xiangru understood his intention but did not stop him. Instead, he said with concern, “Going alone will be dangerous.”
“The jianghu is a place of endless peril,” Wen Jin said, patting his chest with a beaming smile. “Rest assured, Brother Lan—I, Wen Jin, am decisive and ruthless. I fear neither gods nor Buddhas. Even malevolent spirits would flee in terror at the sight of me.”
Lan Xiangru had witnessed his martial arts; Wen Jin was no ordinary fighter. Combined with his sharp wit, he was unlikely to run into any trouble. Thus, Lan Xiangru agreed, “Very well.”
Night fell. A monk arrived at the meditation chamber to invite Lan Xiangru to the Sutra Pavilion.
Wen Jin lay on the bed, utterly drained of strength. He tried to push himself up, but after several failed attempts, he sighed in frustration. “Brother Lan, help me up.”
Lan Xiangru helped him sit up. The monk standing beside them asked, “Young Hero Wen, what is the matter?”
Wen Jin let out a weak sigh. “I must have caught a chill. My whole body feels heavy and exhausted.”
“Rest here and don’t worry about me,” Lan Xiangru said. “As soon as Grandmaster Huiming finishes treating my injuries, I will return immediately.”
Wen Jin grasped his hand, his voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t want to leave you.”
Lan Xiangru gazed at him, his eyes unwavering.
After a long moment of silence, Wen Jin’s anxiety grew. He broke into a fit of violent coughing. Only then did Lan Xiangru speak. “If you truly cannot rest easy, then let Young Lord Feng accompany me to the Sutra Pavilion.”
The monk observed him closely for a long moment. Seeing that his condition was genuine, he spoke soothingly. “Young Hero Wen, your priority should be your recovery. Do not trouble yourself with other matters. Young Lord Feng is likely resting; there is no need to disturb him. This humble monk will attend to Young Master Lan. You may both rest assured.”
Just as he finished speaking, Feng Shulou arrived at the perfect moment. “Xiao Jin, you can leave Young Master Lan to me.”
Wen Jin coughed a few more times before settling back onto the bed with a limp, weary motion. “I will have to trouble Big Brother Feng, then.”
The monk seemed reluctant to let Feng Shulou accompany them, but the Young Lord of Fengyue City was not someone he could easily offend. He had no choice but to bring the two of them to the Sutra Pavilion, leaving the rest of the matter for the abbot to handle.
“Young Hero Wen, please rest and recover. This poor monk will have a junior brother come to attend to you,” the monk said, pressing his palms together in a gesture of respect before retreating outside. He then summoned a slender young monk and instructed him to keep watch over Wen Jin.
After Lan Xiangru and the others departed, Wen Jin dismissed the slender monk to the area outside the meditation room. Seeing how utterly frail the youth appeared, the monk assumed the Cultivation-Dissolving Powder was taking effect and complied without objection.
Wen Jin wrapped himself in the quilt and lay on his side, facing inward. Before long, he fell into a deep sleep.
The slender monk occasionally glanced inside through the window slats. After confirming there was no unusual movement, he gradually let his guard down.
He had heard from his senior brothers that before entering the temple, this youth had exchanged over a hundred moves with Uncle Shiyuan at the mountain gate. In the end, the youth had deliberately held back, allowing Uncle Shiyuan to narrowly win and save face.
Everyone had spoken of him in such awe-inspiring terms, but seeing him now, he seemed nothing special after all.
Wen Jin executed a “Golden Cicada Shedding Its Shell” maneuver, successfully slipping away from the meditation chamber.
Huiming’s bedchamber was plunged in darkness, with no guards stationed outside. Fearing a trap, Wen Jin cautiously threw several small stones as hidden weapons to probe the area. Only after observing the surroundings and confirming no one appeared did he dare to sneak inside.
He moved with practiced ease through the secret passage, reaching the stone chamber where Miss Niu was kept. He twisted open the mechanism. “My Lady?”
Inside the chamber, lamps burned brightly, casting a brilliant glow. A faint scent of camellia blossoms lingered in the air.
A pot of freshly brewed tea, still warm, sat on a small red sandalwood table, but Miss Niu was nowhere to be seen.
Wen Jin scanned the room and called out “My Lady” again, but received no reply.
After hesitating for a moment, he suddenly heard a rumble as the wall behind the bed curtains shuddered and a stone door swung open.
He instinctively raised his sword to guard his chest against any unforeseen danger, only to see a woman in a lotus-pink ruqun glide gracefully into view. This was the “Mountain God’s” newlywed wife—Miss Niu.
Wen Jin lowered his guard and cupped his fist in salute. “Greetings, My Lady.”
Miss Niu smiled. “Why has your fellow Protector not accompanied you?”
She looks so radiant after only a few days, Wen Jin thought. She must not know yet that the one who married her is a monk from Huaguang Temple.
As always, Wen Jin resorted to his usual nonsense. “My elder brother is a man of both virtue and talent, highly esteemed by the Mountain God. He is currently attending to urgent matters for His Lordship and cannot visit you, Madam. I beg your forgiveness on his behalf.”
The smile faded from Miss Niu’s face, replaced by a look of disappointment. “My husband is truly so busy?”
Hearing her call him “husband,” Wen Jin’s heart sank. “Madam… you have seen the Mountain God?”
A blush crept across Miss Niu’s cheeks as she replied shyly, “Yes.”
This is bad, Wen Jin thought, though his expression remained composed. “How fortunate you are, Madam, to have seen His Lordship’s true form. Unlike me—I have always been a rebellious child, constantly provoking His Lordship’s ire. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in over a hundred years.”
Miss Niu’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Over a hundred years? How… how old are you?”
Wen Jin replied with a solemn expression, “One thousand nine hundred and ninety. By human standards, I am exactly nineteen.”
Miss Niu was speechless with astonishment.
Wen Jin’s skill in spinning tall tales had reached absolute perfection. “His Lordship changes his appearance every century. I wonder what form he has taken this time.”
Miss Niu’s smile deepened as she recalled the Mountain God’s appearance. “My husband has thick, dark eyebrows and slightly prominent cheekbones. He is exceptionally handsome, and his body carries a pleasant scent of sandalwood.”
He does sound a bit like Huiming, Wen Jin thought.
After a moment, Wen Jin asked, “Does he have hair?”
Miss Niu laughed. “My husband is in the prime of his life. How could he not have hair?”
It’s certain now, Wen Jin concluded. The “Mountain God” is none other than Huiming in disguise.
He is an enlightened monk, renowned throughout the martial world. Why would he stoop to such schemes? Could an old monk over seventy still be tempted by the desires of the mortal realm?
Wen Jin suspected the matter was far more complex than it seemed.
He glanced secretly at the stone door behind the bed curtains, then bowed to Miss Niu. “I should not disturb you any longer, Madam. I will take my leave.”
Miss Niu did not try to stop him. “Farewell, Protector.”
As she turned, Wen Jin swiftly moved behind her, struck a pressure point to render her unconscious, and lifted her onto the bed. He then slipped through the stone door.
Behind the door was a bathing chamber. After a quick search, Wen Jin found another stone door and opened it.
The stone chambers stretched on, one after another, seemingly without end.
Miss Niu had likely never discovered these hidden doors. The furthest she could have reached was perhaps that bathing chamber.
It was hard to imagine that Grandmaster Huiming, in his lust for women, had gone to such lengths to carve a secret complex of this scale beneath Huaguang Temple.
After passing through the fourth stone chamber, a faint stench of decay wafted into his nostrils.
Wen Jin’s brow furrowed instinctively. He suppressed his nausea, searching for the source of the odor.
After a long search, Wen Jin spotted something unusual beneath a stone stool. He tried twisting the stool, and a crack immediately appeared in the floor.
In an instant, a wave of concentrated putrescence struck him, nearly making him gag.
Wen Jin fought the stench, tears welling in his eyes. Once he had barely acclimated, he continued to force the stool to turn with all his strength, only stopping when the gap in the floor had widened to its maximum.
The silent stone chamber was now filled with the smell of rotting flesh. Wen Jin covered his mouth with his sleeve and walked to the edge of the fissure.
The torchlight flickered, illuminating the darkness of the room.
He looked down and saw a mountain of bleached bones.
And lying atop the pile of bones was a woman, not yet fully decomposed, and an infant less than a year old.
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