Chapter 69: Silver Wheel, Misty Wave Hermitage

As the Heart-Gathering Pearl was summoned, a pale, eerie light shone forth, enveloping several corpse towers in its glow, instantly silencing the wailing infant spirits within.

Ji Ming walked among the small towers, carefully peeling off each talisman one by one and storing them in his pouch. The power of these talismans had already waned; otherwise, how could the infant ghosts have stirred them with their ghostly winds? Ji Ming suspected these talismans originated from the powerful cultivator who summoned the heavenly thunder. Though he knew little of the source, thunder magic in the world was rare. Anyone capable of such arts would surely craft extraordinary talismans. If opportunity allowed, he hoped to study and emulate them in the future.

By the third time he set up the altar, Ji Ming was already practiced and efficient, assembling it in no time. He produced the bone relic and spoke to it in a gentle tone: “Great Monk, though I have taken treasures from your monastery, I have not harmed your monks. If your relic possesses a spirit, do not lay blame upon me. You gathered all sorts of heterodox followers for the sake of reputation. In life, that was acceptable, but in death, it has only brought calamity. Soon, usurpers will seize what was yours. I am merely helping to clear things up. If you have any awareness, you ought to thank me.”

Having muttered for a while, Ji Ming finally placed the bone relic upon the altar. By then, the three ghosts had carried over the treasures. Holding the white bone Heart-Gathering Pearl, Ji Ming could not wait to see its transformed and consecrated form.

“Come, help me raise the banners and add to the momentum,” Ji Ming commanded, tossing three command flags to the ghosts.

With a roar, the corpse altar burst into flames. Ji Ming moved swiftly, treading upon steps made of skulls, climbing the altar as ghostly winds billowed and the fire blazed higher.

Within the flames, the bone relic grew ever more crystalline, emitting a warm light from within. As Ji Ming infused it with his spiritual energy, a majestic chant of Buddhist sutras suddenly rang in his ears.

Through the flickering, ashen flames, Ji Ming seemed to witness the interior of an ancient monastery’s meditation hall. Amid the swirling incense, a monk sat with his back to him, slightly hunched, softly chanting.

“Om, ledha, avada, kenduha, sosa…”

The chanting pulled Ji Ming’s consciousness into the fiery vision, drawing him behind the monk. A gentle breeze swept through, making the hall’s candlelight flicker. Beneath the swaying robes, the outline of the monk’s skeletal frame became evident.

“My heart holds a great vow, to spread Buddhist teachings and attain the fruit beyond the path. Will you accept our Dharma and become our disciple?”

“Our…?” The thought had barely formed in Ji Ming’s mind before the scene shifted—like melting snow in early spring, dissolving away to reveal a terrifying landscape.

He saw a mountain of piled skulls; three-zhang-long spines, draped with strips of skin, stood like poles or banners. Scalps were spread like grass on a slope, rotting flesh formed muddy banks, and upon a cliff face appeared five ancient characters: “Altar of the Cemetery Grove.”

A skeleton in monk’s robes pressed its palms together and intoned again, “Disciple of Buddha, come receive the great vow.”

“How long?” Ji Ming hesitated.

The skeletal monk had never encountered such a response; every prior seeker had either agreed or refused outright—no one had ever asked questions.

“How long must I remain a disciple of Buddha?” Ji Ming pressed.

“For this life and this world!”

“Very well.” Ji Ming steeled his resolve; he did not fear being deceived by this skeletal monk. Despite the terrifying vision, it conformed to the Buddhist practice of fearsome visualizations—authentic Dharma.

This skeletal monk was likely but a fragment of divine Buddhist intent, drawn forth by the wish-power within the bone relic.

As soon as Ji Ming accepted, his mind returned at once. The bone relic dissolved in the flames, merging into the Heart-Gathering Pearl, the two becoming one in an instant. The bone bead now gleamed with a glassy luster.

Inside the crystal-clear bead, a vortex of chilling energy slowly wove a strand of silvery light, delicate as a spider’s web—a process painstakingly slow.

“Hurry, refine the treasure!” Ji Ming called to the three ghosts waving the banners.

Handfuls of gold pearls, chunks of silver, and various gemstones were cast into the altar’s flames. Ji Ming began the ritual, refining the Heart-Gathering Pearl with the energy of treasures.

As the multicolored auras fused into the bead, the silvery light formed a wheel within. Only after a long while did Ji Ming cautiously lift the pearl; he had invested more effort into this bead than even into his precious eye-treasure.

“It was worth it! Worth it!” He was absorbed in the silver wheel within the bead. With a thought, the bead vanished, revealing a shimmering silver disc of light.

Ji Ming looked around, seeking a living creature to test the treasure upon. Yet in this wild, tangled forest, the oppressive yin energy drove all beasts away—there was not a single living thing. His gaze settled instead upon the three ghosts.

Unable to withstand his scrutiny, the three ghosts grabbed their ancestral tablets and tried to flee. Ji Ming didn’t pursue, but simply cast the silver disc of light at them from afar.

Bathed in its glow, the three ghosts felt a pang of fear, as if their hearts had returned to their chests in life.

“Tell me, men die when their hearts fail; can ghosts survive without hearts?” Ji Ming asked.

The three ghosts wailed and returned, placing their tablets respectfully before the altar. Ji Ming rested his hand on the altar, tapping at the burning bones with his finger.

“Ha—!” Suddenly, Ji Ming drew a sharp breath. A gust of wind swept up the three tablets and dropped them directly into the altar fire.

“Come, let me give you a new home.” With that, the three blue command flags flew onto the altar. Using the remainder of his treasures, Ji Ming consecrated the flags and drew the three ghosts into them.

“With this matter settled, it’s time to find my brother and show him this treasure.”

Ji Ming leapt from the altar, his stature seeming to lengthen with each bound, now exuding an aura of a dragon soaring to the heavens. Perhaps this was what it meant for presence to arise from power, and for a noble visage to be born from the heart.

...

Mount Dangerbird, within Misty Wave Monastery.

Wen Daoyu, a guest at the monastery, had almost fully recovered from his injuries. Yet, he did not immediately respond to the summons he had received. Instead, he spent a week reciting sutras in gratitude to the Life Star Lord of the Southern Dipper for bestowing healing.

Afterward, he spent three more days in philosophical discussion with the monastery’s abbot.

To Wen Daoyu, affairs of gods and men were important, yet they were public matters; his own attainment of the Dao was even more vital—a private pursuit. Sacrificing the personal for the public was not a realization he had yet achieved.

Within Misty Wave Monastery, the Daoist Baiyun Shangzhen was a rare and pure cultivator—an eccentric sage whose conversation was of immense benefit to Wen Daoyu.

One day, their discussion turned to the subject of the Armor Mist Snake.

Baiyun Shangzhen said, “In the southwest, there has long been a tradition of serpent worship. Many villages claim descent from the snake and raise flags and offer sacrifices during festivals. Later, when the Panhu Sect established its mountain gate deep in Li Ridge, they absorbed the serpent spirit into their fivefold pantheon, and such worship diminished. The Armor Mist Snake was originally a strange serpent from Li Ridge, highly intelligent and secretly venerated in the earth villages. Unwilling to be enslaved by the Panhu Sect, it fled to Mount Dangerbird.”

“So, it’s a particularly proud snake…spirit?” Wen Daoyu asked.

“Extremely proud!” Baiyun Shangzhen replied, shaking his horsetail whisk with a smile. “When it first arrived, it caused havoc, drawing the attention of the Daoists from the Taiping Branch in Fangzhong.”

Wen Daoyu felt a flush of embarrassment. Though a disciple of Crane Watch, he was well aware of the misdeeds of the local branch. In short, ‘they do anything for money, unconcerned with right or wrong.’

If that branch hadn’t rotted to its core, neither Crane Watch nor Four Sorrows Cloud Monastery would have had the chance to intervene in this lucrative territory. Now, all that remained was to wait for the battle at Talent Observation Cave to be won, severing the pass between Li Ridge and the Lanyin faction, so they could divide the resources within.

“And how did it become a mountain spirit?” Wen Daoyu asked. After all, Baiyun Shangzhen resided on this mountain; it would be like letting someone else snore beside your pillow—how much more so to allow a mountain spirit to oversee the land?

Baiyun Shangzhen explained, “First, the snake daily breathes in mountain mists, which condense into the haze outside the monastery, aiding my cultivation. Second, the snake has become formidable—over two centuries of cultivation, bolstered by the yin energy of the earth below. Unless you bring something that restrains it, otherwise…”

“Something to restrain it!” Wen Daoyu’s eyes flashed as he looked at the immortal-like Baiyun Shangzhen seated on the meditation mat, bowing in gratitude. “Thank you for your guidance.”

Baiyun Shangzhen merely smiled and said nothing.