Chapter 989: Fuxia (I)

Mount Qingdu had seen increasing construction in recent years, with pavilions and towers rising in great numbers. After the Li Family’s main bloodline moved away from the mountaintop, the cultivation chambers within the Qingdu Cave Dwelling became a secluded place for cultivators by the lake to enter seclusion and break through. It was quiet, undisturbed, and above all, safe.

Li Xuanxuan emerged from the hall at the mountaintop, followed closely by Li Zhouming, grandson of Li Ximing. The child had truly poor innate ability; after all his efforts, he remained stuck at the second stage of the Embryonic Breathing Realm. With Li Ximing currently in seclusion, the boy could only tag along and lend a hand to Li Xuanxuan.

When the old man arrived at the hall, a stag was kneeling before it. Its fur was slick and glossy, but it was kneeling with unwavering stillness. The stag had tears streaming from its eyes.

The white ape watched from the side, its eyes calm but tinged with sorrow. Kongheng stood with palms pressed together, murmuring sutras. His brows were tightly furrowed, and he looked deeply troubled.

Li Xuanxuan had already heard the full story. Though rarely angered, the old man could no longer hide his displeasure and said urgently, “A Buddhist cultivator? If you have a problem with my family, come at us directly. Why take your anger out on a mere mortal?”

Li Chenghuai stood to the side and spoke in a soft, helpless tone, “This matter has stirred up quite the uproar. News has spread across all the towns along the eastern shore, and people are on edge. No one dares enter the mountain anymore. Some are even trying to erect temples, claiming that they won’t suffer such disasters if they worship the Revered One.”

“Absurd!” exclaimed Li Xuanxuan. He then let out a sigh, while the white ape gently stroked the stag’s back.

Only after a long moment did the ape speak, “Zhao Xie is the most stubborn of them all. He has always toyed with human lives, taking pleasure in doling out so-called karmic retribution. He never understands the pain of others. Only when pain befalls him does he erupt in fury, forgetting compassion, forgetting mercy, and raising his blade in the name of righteousness.”

The old ape rarely spoke at such length, and the hall instantly fell silent. Kongheng felt stifled at this. He paused, then murmured, “Senior… they too teach people to do good. They’re just too overbearing… Not all of my Dao are like this…”

The old ape let out a sigh and said no more, only replying, “What Master Monk says is true.”

Li Xuanxuan looked at the stag lying on the ground and said, “Since Master Monk cannot resolve this, do you have any clue of the monk’s whereabouts? Or can you identify that Master Monk’s Dao lineage? If we let him run unchecked across the lake, it might bring even greater danger later.”

Kongheng paused, then explained, “I cultivate the Ancient Dao and cannot divine such things. Judging by his appearance, he is also a seasoned Master Monk and left no trace behind… I fear he won’t be easy to find. As for his Dao lineage.”

Kongheng now spoke with some confidence, his voice soft, “From his conduct, he likely belongs to one of the seven Daos, one that leans toward the ancient techniques. He neither committed slaughter nor used any curses. His actions were relatively orthodox.”

“Oh?” Li Xuanxuan felt slightly relieved. If it had been someone like Murong Xia, a Yanshi who cultivated human heads in his belly, he could convert half a town with a single chant. That kind of threat had to be found immediately. But turning someone into a deer didn’t match the methods of a Yanshi, so he asked, “Which of the Daos are considered orthodox?”

Kongheng nodded and said, “Reporting to the elder, the ascetic Dao of strict precepts and the Great Mahayana Dharma Realm both act in upright ways and resonate with our own. There is also another… the Wrathful Purification of the World Dao… which also counts as part of the orthodox tradition.”

Li Xuanxuan was momentarily stunned. The old man frowned and said, “Wrathful Purification of the World is considered orthodox too?”

“It is.” Kongheng spoke in a low voice, “Those monks in remote mountain temples don’t count. The few renowned great temples of the Wrathful Dao in the past had very strict rules. Though they are stubborn and rigid, they revere demon-slaying. That still qualifies as orthodox…”

Li Xuanxuan was silent for a moment, then shook his head and replied, “Then it’s likely from the Wrathful Dao. This kind of karma, forget a hundred years, even a thousand won’t be enough to clear it!”

“The Wrathful Dao…” Kongheng chanted several lines of Dao scripture in succession, his expression troubled, and replied softly, “Elder… the Wrathful Dao is not easy to deal with. If it were just a wandering monk from some remote mountain temple, that would be one thing. But if this truly is the Wrathful Dao, then such conduct could only come from one of the great temples…”

His worry deepened as he continued, “It’s said that the Wrathful Dao suffered severe losses after the fall of the Wrathful Subduer of the Four Demon Emperors. The great temples have all sealed themselves off, and most Master Monks outside have perished. We can only hope it isn’t the Merciful One who has come…

“Though the Merciful One has lost nearly ninety percent of their power after the Wrathful Subduer’s fall, he’s still not someone any monk can afford to provoke.”

Li Xuanxuan remained silent. After fifteen minutes, Chen Yang strode in quickly, cupped his fists, and said in a low voice, “Honored Sirs, a Master Monk is waiting outside the peak!”

Li Xuanxuan was startled and immediately called for Li Chenghuai, speaking anxiously, “Go quickly to Mount Wu and see whether Ximing’s seclusion has reached a critical point. If not, ask him to come at once! This could be serious!”

Li Chenghuai nodded and hurried off. When he saw how flustered the old man was, Kongheng quickly tried to comfort him by saying, “Since he came openly to inquire, he may not be an enemy. Elder, please wait here. White ape and I will meet him first.”

Li Xuanxuan had no better option. With Li Ximing in seclusion, only the white ape and Kongheng remained among the family’s Foundation Establishment Realm cultivators. The old ape was not strong, and Kongheng was the only reliable one. He could only nod in agreement.

Once Li Xuanxuan agreed, Kongheng strode out of the hall, the old ape silently following behind. Kongheng said in a low voice, “We don’t yet know whether this person is friend or foe. But at least he’s a Buddhist cultivator. I’ll go first to sound him out. Elder, please wait within the formation.”

The white ape nodded slightly. Once they reached the formation’s outer edge, Kongheng rose on the wind and indeed saw an old monk standing on the shimmering surface of the lake.

The old monk’s face was full of wrinkles, and he held a staff in his hand. His expression was calm and emotionless. Draped in a deep yellow kasaya, he only revealed most of one arm, which was muscular, well-defined, and reflecting a faint white sheen under the sunlight.

Faint circular runes on his kasaya shimmered in the light, sparkling like scales. The long staff hanging from his hand was pure white like jade. He said nothing and simply stood in silence. A circle of cultivators had gathered around him. They were all trembling with fear and did not dare to breathe loudly.

The surrounding cultivators finally let out a breath of relief when Kongheng landed on the lake and scattered at once.

An Siwei, their leader, approached and respectfully reported, “Master Monk… this man used a piece of rotten driftwood from the lakeshore as a boat. He rowed all the way here.”

Kongheng glanced briefly and saw that the man was indeed using a dead log to remain afloat. The man’s expression turned grave as he opened his eyes and said in a deep voice, “Are you a disciple of the Northern Revered One’s Dao lineage, Master?”

Kongheng hadn’t even opened his mouth before the monk seized the initiative with his question, making things a little awkward. He responded politely, “I do not dare claim the title of master. I am but a humble monk, Kongheng, disciple of Liao River Temple.”

“Liao River Temple?” The old monk was clearly not of mild temperament. His eyes snapped open, the scale-like patterns on his kasaya glittering, and he spoke in a stern, reproachful tone, “Your Dao lineage is lofty and orthodox, admired by all. How could you forget the evil of indulgence? We cultivators tread the world on foot, why imitate those who flit through the skies? Does that not stir the desire for pleasure?”

This man had transformed someone into a deer without cause, yet before Kongheng could even voice his question, he was already scolded.

Startled, Kongheng frowned and said, “Whether one flies or walks lies in the heart, not the act. Elder, your words are too harsh.”

The old monk let it pass with a snort and said coldly, “North Demon-Subduing Temple, Fuxia.”

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