Chapter 196: Go Kill Someone
The Upper Realm.
The Pure Heaven, without dust or defilement, without life or death.
Above the firmament, golden clouds flowed, and Sanskrit chants lingered. Numerous floating Buddhist halls hung amidst the clouds, with glazed tiles and white jade steps. Under the illumination of Buddha light, even time itself seemed to have stagnated.
Inside the Celestial Sound Pavilion, a lotus platform was built high, and the air was thick with sandalwood incense.
An old monk sat upon the lotus platform, draped in a purple-gold kasaya. Behind his head, a halo of Buddha light like the moon shone, making the vermilion dot between his brows appear even more vibrant.
He held a piece of black jade in his hand, his fingertips gently rubbing it against the Go board, yet he hesitated to make his move.
Opposite him, a middle-aged monk sat in silent meditation, his face solemn. A golden mark like a sword adorned his brow, and the aura around him was as heavy as an abyss.
Suddenly—
"Buzz!"
The void trembled slightly. A golden lotus bloomed out of thin air. Its petals were crystal clear, with Buddhist patterns flowing over them, yet they faintly revealed a trace of blood.
The old monk's eyes snapped open. He reached out and lightly plucked it. The golden lotus fell into his palm and, in an instant, transformed into specks of golden light, merging into his skin.
"..."
A sudden silence fell over the Buddhist hall.
After a long while, the old monk sighed slowly. "Miao Kong... has also fallen."
As his voice landed, a white piece on the Go board silently shattered.
The golden clouds outside the hall suddenly darkened, as if an invisible sorrow swept through the Celestial Sound Pavilion.
The middle-aged monk opposite him narrowed his gaze. "Who acted this time?"
The old monk stared at the residual golden light in his palm; the trace of blood had already seeped into the Buddhist patterns. "I do not know..."
The two words were spoken so lightly that they caused the lotus platform to tremble slightly.
After a long moment, the old monk sighed again and gently brushed the shattered chess piece away.
The middle-aged monk frowned slightly. "With Miao Si and Miao Hua from before, three of the eight Guide Messengers have now been lost?"
The old monk closed his eyes, the Buddhist beads between his fingers turning slowly. "Aside from that one time 100,000 years ago, this is already our greatest loss."
The middle-aged monk pondered. "100,000 years ago, someone acted deliberately. What about this time?"
The old monk chanted a Buddhist mantra. "The matter of the Buddhist Son's reincarnation is naturally taboo to the Heavenly Dao. It is normal for it to become more difficult each time."
He opened his eyes, and it seemed as if a river of stars rotated within them. "This plan, for now, can neither be called smooth nor troublesome. It's just that..."
"Just what?"
"The message Miao Kong sent back before his death indicates that an accident has occurred with the main tribulation we had prepared," the old monk said blandly. "We can only activate our backup methods."
"Heh, and you still call this going smoothly?" the middle-aged monk scoffed. "I've said it before; others cannot ultimately be relied upon. Even if it means bearing more karma, the matter of the tribulation cannot be left in the hands of others."
The old monk nodded slightly. "Therefore, no matter what, there can be no more accidents this time."
His voice was low. "Because of the excessive losses from that time 100,000 years ago, this time... we have no more Guide Messengers to spare."
Guide Messengers were all babies of unparalleled talent, found by the Celestial Sound Palace in the lower realm at great cost, brought to the Pure Heaven to be raised from a young age, so that when they were sent back to the lower realm, they could evade the detection of the Heavenly Dao.
If people were directly sent down from the Upper Realm, unless the Heaven Ascension Road is reconnected, it would be nearly impossible.
The old monk looked towards the sea of clouds outside the pavilion, the cinnabar mark between his brows faintly turning red. "Moreover... I have some bad premonitions."
The middle-aged monk raised his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Tell them—" the old monk's voice grew colder, "even if this reincarnation of the Buddhist Son is not perfect, the process must be accelerated."
"The World-Honored One... must return to the Upper Realm as soon as possible."
The middle-aged monk was silent for a moment, put his palms together, and chanted a low Buddhist mantra.
Lower Realm.
Immortal Spirit City, Ping'an Lane.
Dew condensed on the bluestone ground, wetly reflecting the light of the sky.
Ah Li sat before her general goods stall, her fingertips unconsciously stroking a jade hairpin on the stall. Her gaze, however, drifted far away, as if through the hustle and bustle of the lane, she was seeing certain unspeakable karmic threads.
Of course, those who knew her were aware that this was her beginning to zone out again.
Suddenly, her eyelashes trembled, and the hazy mist in her eyes abruptly dissipated.
"Gale Pavilion." she said softly.
Chen Chang'an, who was at the side lifting his brush to dip it in ink, paused his wrist upon hearing her words. A drop of ink fell with a "pa" onto the Xuan paper, smudging into a patch of black.
He slowly raised his head: "What Gale Pavilion?"
Ah Li turned her head, her amber-colored eyes looking directly at him: "The person you are looking for is in the Gale Pavilion."
The noisy sounds of the market suddenly faded into the distance.
Chen Chang'an was silent for a moment, put down the brush, and lightly tapped the edge of the inkstone with his fingertip—a clear "ding" sound, like gold and jade striking each other.
"Thank you, Miss Ah Li."
He stood up, his sleeves falling like flowing clouds.
He did not ask Ah Li how she knew; he just began to unhurriedly pack up the items on his fortune-telling stall.
The yellow paper was folded into neat squares, the inkstone was wiped clean of residual stains, and even the wolf-hair brush stained with ink was wrapped in three layers with a green cloth.
Ah Li watched his movements and suddenly pursed her lips: "You are leaving?"
"Yes."
"Where to?" she asked, knowing full well, yet a faint smile appeared in the depths of her eyes.
Chen Chang'an put the last book into his sleeve. When he raised his eyes, it was as if a cold star had fallen into a deep pool.
"To... kill someone."
The crosswind in the lane suddenly stopped.
He paused, his voice as light as if he were discussing today's weather: "To kill an unfilial person."
Ah Li stared at his receding back, suddenly shook her head lightly, and lowered her head to continue fiddling with the jade hairpin.
And the people in the lane continued to hawk their wares, none of them noticing—
In that instant just now, all the dew in the entire Ping'an Lane had condensed into white frost in the space of one of his steps.
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