Chapter 17 – Guarding a Star
The old City Diviner couldn’t understand what gave Chou Bodeng the confidence to attack again while under the suppression of the Myriad Phenomena Eight Cycles Subduing Clarity Formation.
The Myriad Phenomena Eight Cycles Subduing Clarity Formation had four sets of Bronze Evil-Warding Suppression Bells, each with thirty-six bells, respectively inscribed with the scriptures of the four phases of the I Ching: old yang, young yin, young yang, and old yin, arranged in the order of the eight cycles. Anyone with karmic obstruction who entered the formation would be like snow thrown into boiling water, struggling just to stay standing. One hundred and forty-four bronze bells each shot out thirty beams of clear light, engulfing everything within the formation circle. Even the thickest miasma and the most numerous demons and monsters would vanish into thin air under such brilliance.
Even the old City Diviner himself had to retreat from the formation circle.
Clang!
A line of ink tore through the glaring pale white from top to bottom, like the scorched black mark that appears on white paper when it nears a flame, immediately followed by the eruption of red fire—Chou Bodeng, holding his sword, slowly walked out of the world of light. The Taiyi sword was tilted, pointing straight at the ground.
Behind him, bronze bells fell to the ground, and iron locks broke.
The formation was broken!
“Four… Four Voids.”
But when he met that pair of pure black pupils, a chill slithered up the old City Diviner’s spine like a snake.
The Four Voids.
It was originally a part of the Buddhist Sect’s Zen mind. As Buddhism’s universal salvation and the world’s martial arts intermingled, it was later extended by saber and sword masters to refer to a state of enlightenment achieved when drawing a sword or swinging a saber.
That is, “No form of heaven, no form of earth, no form of self, no form of sentient beings!”
In the Twelve Continents of the Central Plains, countless people practiced martial arts, but very few could reach this state of the Four Voids. It required one to cast aside gains and losses, successes and failures, and even life and death! It required a mind as empty as the sky, without a speck of dust. Only those who abandoned all things could obtain all things! …But how was that possible? Everyone knew that Taiyi’s Little Martial Grand-Ancestor was someone who could stir up a storm in the whole city over a single meal upon arriving in Fu City, someone who practically needed to be sustained by all the splendors of the world!
How could such a person have a mind empty of heaven and earth, of sentient beings, and of himself?!
Chou Bodeng lowered his long eyelashes.
The firelight cast flickering shadows on his pristine face. He held his sword horizontally before him, his pale fingers pressing against the spine of the sword, moving inch by inch, as if performing some ancient and solemn ritual. As his fingertips pressed steadily across the blade, the distant old City Diviner felt a deep chill pierce his bones.
The old City Diviner dared not wait any longer. With a shake of his dual sabers, he roared and pounced.
Chou Bodeng’s fingertips pressed past the sword’s edge, and the sword swung out smoothly, drawing a perfect semicircle in the air.
With a very faint sound, like a needle piercing sandpaper, the fire on East Third Street was instantly split into two levels, upper and lower. It wasn’t until the next moment when a long wind blew that it reconnected into one piece.
The old City Diviner’s hand trembled, and he could barely hold his saber.
He spat out a mouthful of blood, his entire being wilting. He instantly lost the courage to continue fighting and turned to flee.
Chou Bodeng did not pursue.
Thud.
The moment the old City Diviner turned, he “knelt” on the ground, facing the Divine Fu Tree.
His upper and lower body separated as smoothly as a mirror. He had just used his dual sabers to block Chou Bodeng’s sword strike, but the sword qi had passed directly through the sabers, splitting him in half at the waist and shattering his three heavenly souls along with him.
Chou Bodeng watched the old City Diviner kneel before the Divine Fu Tree, his face expressionless.
A moment later, his body swayed, and he fell backward into the embers.
The silver light cast by the Fu leaves fell into his beautiful, pure black eyes.
Like a tiny star adorning the night sky.
***
Pi Mu’s bronze halberd crashed heavily to the ground.
“So… you, you are…”
He looked down at the Scarlet Saber piercing his chest. He couldn’t finish his words before the Scarlet Saber twisted, shredding his heart.
Shi Wuluo indifferently withdrew his long saber.
Pi Mu stood motionless, his body crumbling and flaking away like an old wall. a very twisted smile appeared on his face. He remembered what Shi Wuluo had said earlier… this madman said he had made a vow. In heaven and on earth, among gods, demons, and ghosts, who hadn’t made a vow or two? But vows were just vows. Except for a few with outstanding willpower who could keep them, most were just the powerless and unwilling laments of the weak, eventually turning into forgotten, even betrayed, dust.
But the vow this madman made…
How was that a vow?
It was… it was…
A calamity.
A calamity destined to happen.
Shi Wuluo sheathed his saber. As his right sleeve moved, a bracelet on his wrist was revealed. An ancient bracelet of dark gold with twin Kui Dragons, identical to the one on Chou Bodeng’s left wrist. He said no more and turned to leave.
A cloud of golden dust exploded in the thick miasma, scattering and falling.
Heaven Beyond Heavens, Upper Heaven, Divine Shrine Pavilion.
The pavilion was as bright as day, with long-burning lamps lit before rows of dark, gold-inscribed divine steles. There was no wind in the shrine, but the flame of one of the long-burning candles suddenly wavered. In its flickering light, it illuminated the name carved on the corresponding divine stele: “God of the Eastern Wilds, Pi Mu.”
Crack, crack.
First one crack, then a spiderweb of them in the blink of an eye.
Clap.
The divine stele shattered, and the long-burning lamp went out.
Dong—Dong—Dong—
From amidst the swirling clouds and mist, the heavy tolling of a bell suddenly rang out, its sound piercing the clouds and echoing high in the azure heavens. In the unseen realms, ancient existences were abruptly startled from their slumber.
***
North City Gate.
The Startled Swan Goose Boat landed in a pile of ruins. Even the Pavilion Master of the Mountain Sea Pavilion himself would have had a hard time recognizing this flying boat as his cherished “Startled Swan”: the thirty-meter-long, ten-meter-high vessel had shrunk to twenty-four meters long and six meters high. Its sharp, slender bow and stern were gone, the tightly arranged rib planks were dented in and out, the falcon-wing-like slender cloak boards were like a duck’s plucked wings, and as for the three jade-shell-like sails… only a small piece remained, hanging pitifully from the broken mast.
On the boat, Zuo Yuesheng, Lu Jing, and Lou Jiang were sprawled across the deck in disarray.
Lou Jiang propped himself up, staggered to his feet, and stumbled to the side of the Startled Swan Goose Boat. He slowly hung himself over the side and, opening his mouth, began to vomit violently.
“You, surnamed Lou…” Zuo Yuesheng lay face down on the deck, moving his fingers weakly. “Do me a favor, give me a hand. If I puke here, I’ll choke on last night’s dinner.”
Lou Jiang ignored him.
This guy was really not human.
Earlier, he had shouted countless times in mid-air, “You two, come take over the Startled Swan for me,” but these two bastards had turned a deaf ear. The moment they were far from the city center, Zuo Yuesheng, with Lu Jing’s help, had forcibly snatched the rudder. The moment the rudder fell into Zuo Yuesheng’s hands, Lou Jiang had closed his eyes.
Once a flying boat was in Zuo Yuesheng’s hands, it was no longer called the “Startled Swan,” but the “Startled Soul”!
To be able to crash a flying boat every single time, in all of the Twelve Continents and even the Thirty-Six Overseas Islands, the Young Pavilion Master of the Mountain Sea Pavilion was one of a kind, no other branch available.
“Lou Jiang? Junior Brother Lou? Brother Lou—” Zuo Yuesheng called out in a high-pitched voice, “Good brother—”
“Blech!”
Lu Jing, who had been lying on his side, instantly scrambled up and vomited his guts out over the side of the boat.
“Just choke to death!” Lou Jiang had just about thrown up his own intestines, with acid in his mouth and nose. Now, like a noodle, he slid down against the side of the boat, his eyes lifeless, having already transcended the mortal world. “When… when I get back to the Mountain Sea Pavilion, I’ll ask the Pavilion Master to station me at the Undying City… In this world, a person named Lou Jiang cannot coexist with a fatty named Zuo.”
“You… why didn’t you say so earlier?”
Lu Jing asked intermittently between bouts of vomiting.
Recalling the countless times the flying boat had scraped against the ground and mountain rocks, the countless times city walls and corner towers had grazed past his nose… on the way to close the city gates, most of the danger had come not from the demons and monsters that leaped out of the miasma, but from Zuo Yuesheng, who was piloting the boat.
Lu Jing felt that from now on, he might suffer from an incurable disease, one that even his Medicine King father, who could bring the dead back to life, couldn’t cure.
It was called “Vomiting at the Sight of a Boat.”
“Heh,” Lou Jiang, having mastered the art of expressing intense anger with the briefest of sounds, a common human emotion throughout history, said, “Did you let me speak?”
They really hadn’t.
Previously, Lu Jing had no idea what Zuo Yuesheng was like when piloting a flying boat. His head was filled with hot-blooded foolishness. When Zuo Yuesheng waved his arm and shouted, “In the name of our life-and-death friendship, pull this guy away,” Lu Jing had helped him pull Lou Jiang away. Thinking back now, Lou Jiang had indeed tried to say something to him at the time, but Zuo Yuesheng had clamped his mouth shut.
After the rudder was in Zuo Yuesheng’s hands…
There was no room for them to speak.
Feeling guilty, Lu Jing could only laugh sheepishly and quickly change the subject. “Fatty Zuo! You were the one flying the boat, how come you’re so dizzy? Aren’t you ashamed?”
“Bullshit!” Zuo Yuesheng managed to flip himself over and lay spread-eagled on the deck. “Am I dizzy? I’m nauseous from spiritual energy exhaustion. Doesn’t flying a boat use spiritual energy? You’re one to talk, standing there so comfortably.”
Lou Jiang and Lu Jing said in unison, “Pah!!”
“…Ahem, let’s not talk about this,” Zuo Yuesheng quickly changed the subject. “Look, the light of the Fu tree has returned to normal. Chou Bodeng should be fine too. Young Master Chou is really… what’s that saying? The one you often see in storybooks, where the ordinary-looking sweeping monk is actually a master of secret arts, and the meat-eating, wine-drinking monk is actually a true Arhat?”
“That’s called ‘a true master doesn’t show his skills, one who shows his skills isn’t a true master’,” Lu Jing said irritably.
Zuo Yuesheng tapped the back of his head on the deck. “Right, right, right! That’s the one. Don’t you think that Chou fellow is just like the protagonist of those storybooks that all the delicate little girls love these days?”
“That trope is so old!” Lu Jing’s eyes were filled with disdain. “Before I came to Fu City, the sisters at the Drunken Wind Pavilion loved the story of a slandered swordsman who endured humiliation and then perished with the evil spirit, sacrificing himself for the Dao, his name echoing through the ages. Last time, there was a play called Sorrowful Returning Wind that was written like that, and the flowers and fruits thrown at the storyteller nearly buried him alive.”
“Fuck!” Zuo Yuesheng shot up. “Pah! Pah! Pah! Don’t you jinx it. Let’s go, let’s go, hurry up and see if Young Master Chou has ‘his name echoing through the ages’.”
As he spoke, he reached for the rudder.
Lou Jiang and Lu Jing instantly pounced like fierce tigers, one on the left and one on the right, dragging Zuo Yuesheng aside. Amidst Zuo Yuesheng’s loud complaints, Lou Jiang took control of the Startled Swan Goose Boat.
“Brother Lou, you fly,” Lu Jing said with a ferocious expression. “Fly slower! Steadier!”
Lou Jiang nodded.
The Startled Swan Goose Boat slowly flapped its tattered cloak boards, slowly lifted off the ground, and slowly moved forward… After a long while, the Startled Swan Goose Boat had moved half a meter.
“This is not necessary,” Lu Jing said tactfully.
“It’s not that.”
Lou Jiang looked up expressionlessly and pointed at the Startled Swan Goose Boat, which was as steady as an old tortoise.
“It’s broken.”
Clap.
The last small piece of sail, along with its rope, fell from the sky, landing squarely on Lu Jing’s head. Zuo Yuesheng, who had been making a fuss, shrank back and laughed awkwardly, not daring to speak.
Lu Jing: …
Fine, let’s get off and run!
Young Master Chou! You have to hold on, don’t you really sacrifice yourself for the Dao!
***
“I’d rather be dead!”
Chou Bodeng cried out in anguish.
The Myriad Phenomena Eight Cycles Subduing Clarity Formation on East Third Street lay in ruins, and the old City Diviner was still “kneeling in gratitude” before the Divine Fu Tree. As for Chou Bodeng himself, he was half-kneeling in the fire. Although he hadn’t sacrificed himself for the Dao yet, he no longer wanted to live.
Pain! Pain! Pain!
It hurt so much!
No heaven, no earth, no sentient beings—all gone, leaving only the single thought of “pain.” His entire body ached as if every bone had been shattered, as if fire were burning in every blood vessel. Flesh was not flesh, bones were not bones, and he was not himself. He wanted to faint but couldn’t.
“You broken sword! Haven’t you always wanted to slay me, this evil spirit? Come on, do it now! Quickly!”
The Taiyi sword lay on the ground not far away. Hearing this, it didn’t even deign to move.
The corners of Chou Bodeng’s eyes were moist and red.
He staggered to his feet, stumbled over, and picked up the now-bright Taiyi sword from the ground, his fingers trembling with pain. After grabbing the sword, Chou Bodeng forced himself to steady his wrist and, without a word, decisively swung the sword toward his own neck.
Compared to the pain, he would rather die!
Before the blade could touch his skin, Chou Bodeng’s right hand was tightly gripped.
The hand that caught his wrist was exceptionally pale even in the firelight, its knuckles distinct, long, and powerful. Beneath a deep black sleeve, a dark gold Kui Dragon Bracelet was revealed.
It belonged to a young man.