Iron Bull taucht wieder auf

Kapitel 168

Firelight shone through the slightly ajar door, casting slanted shadows on the brick floor, and occasionally the hoarse voices of several middle-aged monks chanting sutras could be heard.

I pushed the wooden door, and it made a strange, abrupt, and odd "creak" sound under my hand.

"Mr. Wind—" The elephant monk in front of the campfire reacted very quickly and immediately ran over to greet him, his shadow darting around on the ground.

In the middle of the courtyard, a neatly stacked two-meter square pile of high-quality pine firewood, over 1.5 meters tall, wafted the pungent smell of special fish oil. Next to the pile of firewood, a stretcher containing the bodies of the Shao brothers lay on its side, surrounded by five grey-robed monks chanting sutras to bid them farewell.

“Mr. Feng, the ceremony can begin as soon as you give the order,” the monk Xiang said earnestly, pointing to the campfire ten steps away from the woodpile.

The Reincarnation Temple has a row of simple, unadorned north-facing rooms and three west-facing rooms. The lights inside are dim because these are where coffins are kept, much like the mortuaries in southern China. The dead don't need lights; they only need "eternal lamps" to guide them.

“We’ll have to wait a bit longer, Mr. Zhang. Master Xiang, you’ve done a very good job, thank you.” I was about to go over and take one last look at the Shao brothers, but Monk Xiang mysteriously took out a black plastic-covered notebook from his sleeve, handed it over with both hands, and then glanced warily at Xiao Keleng before lowering his voice and saying, “Mr. Feng, this is one of Master Shenbi’s diaries. Although more than a dozen pages have been torn out, I still think it has great research value.”

The notebook is only 20 centimeters long and 10 centimeters wide. It is similar to a calendar and is generally only used to write down things like phone numbers.

The monk's sleeves were very large, and in the north wind, they almost rolled up. He quickly shook his arms and let the cuffs hang down.

I opened the notebook and randomly found a missing page. In it, Master Shenbi had written in extremely messy handwriting: "If it can greatly promote the future development of Fengge Temple, stepping down, retreating, or leaving the temple are not problems. But my impression of Tanino Shinshu is that he doesn't seem to have a complete understanding of the 'Wrath of the Sun God.' Is he credible? Is his plan feasible? Also, is the appearance of this mysterious figure a blessing or a curse for Fengge Temple?"

Two pages were torn out, and the dates jumped drastically, from February to October 2003. The next paragraph reads: "What lies buried underground? The exploration images shown by Tanino demonstrate the existence of a huge underwater cave. Where does it lead? To the depths of the Pacific Ocean? Ridiculous! The instruments are man-made; of course they will malfunction. I don't believe that if such a huge cave truly existed, the successive abbots wouldn't have known about it?"

After quickly glancing at these two paragraphs, Zhang Baisen strode in and silently approached the stretcher.

The atmosphere in the Samsara Institute suddenly turned somber. I could only see Zhang Baisen's back; his head was bowed low, revealing his heavy sense of guilt.

The monk asked in a low voice, "Mr. Feng, the other diaries are all records of trivial matters from a long time ago. Only this one, from 2003 until the abbot's death, involves many sensitive terms. Will it be of any use to you?"

I patted him on the shoulder twice and replied with a smile, "Very helpful, thank you."

If the key pages are torn out, even the most useful information will only be an incomplete riddle, not a solution that brings clarity. It seems I'll have to study late into the night tonight—Tanano is the main figure in uncovering the "Wrath of the Sun God" incident; it was his greed that allowed Fuurin Kazan to exploit a loophole, leading to his imprisonment.

This time, the elephant monk was very close to me and was upwind, and a strange body odor wafted into my nose on the wind.

I looked up at his face, which flickered in and out of the firelight, and suddenly a feeling of extreme familiarity welled up inside me: "Why do I always feel like I've seen him before?"

"Hehe..." He keenly sensed my odd behavior and chuckled awkwardly as he took three large steps back.

The farewell between these figures of the martial arts world was devoid of the tearful scenes of ordinary people. Zhang Baisen remained silent, maintaining that posture for a full ten minutes. The chanting monks had retreated to the eaves of the west wing, hunching their shoulders in the cold wind, half-closing their eyes and drowsy.

The monk spoke again: "Mr. Feng, it's getting late. Perhaps your friend could—"

I suddenly realized: "He shouldn't address Zhang Baisen like that! After all, the two of them had fought in the Marrow Cleansing Hall before, so their relationship would be more familiar than that of ordinary people. It's not like they're strangers to him saying 'Zhang Baisen is your friend'."

Zhang Baisen suddenly bent down and took the hands of the Shao brothers.

Xiao Keleng leaned closer to me and whispered, "Mr. Feng, should we try to persuade Mr. Zhang to stop him from being too heartbroken—" Just as he finished speaking, Zhang Baisen shrugged and coughed up a mouthful of blood. Fortunately, he quickly turned his head, preventing the two corpses from getting dirty.

The monks under the eaves all gasped in alarm, one of them shouting, "Spitting blood on a dead person is a terrible omen! A terrible omen!"

The fourth super weapon

— Chapter 8 - Master Shenbi's Diary [Part 2] —

The customs and traditions of funerals in China and Japan are quite similar. In the traditional Chinese view, not only is it believed that blood, but even water, tears, or any liquid accidentally dripping onto the deceased will disturb their peace in the afterlife.

Zhang Baisen was also taken aback, bounced backward, and staggered a few steps.

Just as I was about to rush over to support him, Xiao Keleng whispered, "Let me do it." She suddenly leaped over, grabbed Zhang Baisen's left arm, and said in a hoarse voice, "Mr. Zhang, please accept my condolences."

My mind was racing with thoughts of the monk's unusual behavior. Intuitively, I felt he was someone I had met before, and certainly not a kindred spirit.

The bonfire was about to burn out, and the chill in the courtyard was getting heavier. The monk was impatiently stamping his feet. Holding such a ceremony was commonplace for the monks, because they had long since seen through the illusions of the world and understood life and death.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Zhang Baisen dejectedly wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

In such situations, silence is perhaps the best way to express oneself, and allowing the deceased to be refined and their physical bodies to dissipate sooner is probably the best way to end things. The only one who truly cares about the Shao brothers is Zhang Baisen; even including Xiao Keleng is merely out of courtesy among fellow martial artists.

As for me, ever since I detected the handwriting left by my elder brother Yang Tian in Shao Hei's remote sensing hallucination, I felt that there was a deep intellectual communication between us. On the contrary, I felt that his physical death was an extreme spiritual sublimation, similar to "attaining enlightenment and ascending to heaven, or achieving complete enlightenment and passing away peacefully".

"Death, or perhaps it's a means for people with superpowers like Shao Hei to further enhance themselves? When ordinary people die, their spirit and body vanish into nothingness; but what state a master of superpowers will be in after death, no one can estimate. When the body limits the enhancement of the spirit, abandoning the body is the right decision without hesitation."

Many things seem unsuitable to be expressed in words. If Zhang Baisen is truly intelligent, he would surely understand this even better.

"Go then... The path to ascension always has an order of precedence. May the pure spirits atop the snow-capped mountains wash away your worldly sins and restore your true nature. In your next life, may a thousand snow lotuses bloom, may the spring breeze bring you a renewed essence. In the next life, may we all be friends again, and return to the 'Hidden Sect'..."

Zhang Baisen's voice was very low, and his wording was ambiguous, but I still understood his words perfectly. If even disciples of prestigious Chinese sects like Shao Hei and Shao Bai were affiliated with the "Hidden Sect" in Nepal, I couldn't help but doubt the organization's extraordinary ability to network with talented individuals from all over the world.

Tonight, Zhang Baisen has already presented me with too many mysteries, from his own identity to the identities of the Shao brothers. The three "Chinese" figures previously known to the global media are actually disciples of a foreign religious sect—this is undoubtedly sensational news. Of course, the Americans won't care about this; they've always been open-minded in welcoming heroes from all over the world, regardless of their nationality.

"Go...go..." Zhang Baisen stretched out his arms, lifting the two corpses into the air and placing them side by side on the woodpile. They had already changed into clean suits and leather shoes, their faces were washed clean, and they had even been carefully made up, which was one of the reasons why I greatly appreciated the monk's work.

"Can we light the fire now?" The monk eagerly took a few steps forward, but Zhang Baisen rubbed his palms together, making a crackling sound, and with a "poof," a fire burst into flames under the firewood, which instantly engulfed the corpse.

This old-fashioned Buddhist cremation method often doesn't burn the body thoroughly enough, unlike modern crematoriums that can burn even the densest and most delicate load-bearing bones. But I noticed that Zhang Baisen's palms didn't retract; instead, they were stretched straight forward, as if he was willing to expend his own internal energy to fuel the fire.

This method of generating energy is like adding oxygen to a flame, which can effectively increase the flame temperature and ensure complete combustion. However, if one uses this method for a long time, it will cause great damage to one's body and can easily cause irreversible internal injuries.

I put my diary in my breast pocket, considering whether I should go up and stop Zhang Baisen's crazy actions. I took only one step forward and suddenly realized that he had actually suffered severe internal injuries. There were at least six places on his body where his qi was not circulating properly.

Xiao Ke silently retreated to my side, frowning and shaking her head. She must have noticed the problem too, but unfortunately, once internal injuries are inflicted, they cannot be reversed in a short time.

I winked at Xiao Keleng and took the lead, quietly strolling towards the eaves of the north room. She understood and followed, unable to resist asking first, "Was it Gu Ye who broke Master Zhang's 'Striking an Ox Through a Mountain' technique, Mr. Feng?"

The window paper in the north room was old and torn in many places, revealing nearly a hundred sandalwood coffins neatly arranged inside. Above each coffin was a black lacquered memorial tablet with white Japanese writing on it. I glanced at them briefly; they all bore inscriptions like "Master So-and-so, the so-and-so generation abbot of Fugeki-ji Temple." A dim fluorescent lamp hung in the center of the roof, radiating a deathly white light.

Xiao Keleng couldn't hear my reply and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Don't you feel that the elephant monk's behavior is strange? And getting stranger and stranger?" I paced westward, my eyes glancing at the elephant monk's back out of the corner of my eye. He was also hunching his neck, looking as if he was shivering.

“Yes, I felt it.” Xiao Ke frowned deeply, but then changed the subject: “Mr. Feng, Master Zhang’s internal energy has been damaged, leaving a huge opening. It’s probably not a good thing to continue to gamble away his internal energy like this. On our side, we’ve already lost the Shao brothers. If something happens to Master Zhang, wouldn’t we lose three helpers in one fell swoop?”

She was North Korean, but more importantly, she was a friend of Su Lun, always standing by the side of Xunfuyuan Villa, and had long since become indifferent to the difference in nationality.

“I know, but it’s too late to undo it. In front of the Tower of the Dead, when he was fighting Gu Ye, Master Zhang’s ‘Striking Through the Mountain Divine Skill’ was pierced by Gu Ye’s ‘Qi and Blood Divine Arrow’. However, he had been holding back his strength before coming here. Now, he’s exerting all his strength, which may help to disperse the stagnant blood and qi in his internal organs, preventing all his organs from being damaged. Xiao Xiao, in this matter, one wrong move and the whole situation is under control. Gu Ye is just too powerful, and we don’t have the power to turn the tide right now.”

It's not that I'm deliberately trying to dampen my spirits, but Gu Ye's martial arts skills and ability to seize opportunities are unparalleled. I sensed that he had unleashed a "Qi and Blood Divine Arrow" specifically designed to break through internal energy, but I was completely unable to stop him. Since it's called an "arrow," it's clear that the speed at which that martial art is activated is instantaneous, so fast that it's invisible, so subtle that it's intangible.

Fortunately, Xiao Keleng did not launch an attack rashly, otherwise she would have been caught in the crossfire.

Regarding the feud between the "Hidden Sect" and the "Heavenly Ninja Alliance," one is in the southwest of the Asian continent and the other is in Japan in East Asia. Any conflict could potentially affect the martial arts world of China. It seems that next time, even we, the martial arts community, will not be able to stay out of it.

Beyond the back wall of the north building lies a cliff overlooking the sea. The ashes of those who had their bodies cremated here were always thrown into the nearby ocean, carried away by the tides. Only the abbot and high-ranking monks who had made special contributions to Fengge Temple were entitled to have their coffins placed in the Samsara Courtyard; the ashes of all the other nameless people suffered the same fate of being scattered.

The monk also retreated to the eaves of the west wing, leaving only Zhang Baisen standing in front of the fire, letting the firelight cast his tall shadow on the main entrance of the north wing.

The two doors were old and dilapidated, haphazardly locked with a dark iron chain. Buddhist disciples do not have valuable burial items when they die, so thieves should not come to this ominous place looking for business.

The smell of burning wood and the resinous aroma of burning firewood gradually enveloped the entire courtyard, mixing with the chill in the air, making people feel even more depressed and extremely gloomy.

“Mr. Feng, now that Miss Tengjia has passed away, shouldn’t we temporarily withdraw from Fengge Temple? The arrangements at Xunfu Garden are enough to withstand the impact of a light infantry battalion. I feel that recently we have made many mistakes, giving the enemy in the shadows an opportunity. Sister Sulun has repeatedly instructed that everyone should concentrate their efforts to avoid being defeated one by one by the enemy. What do you think?”

Xiao Keleng repeated the same old tune. Everyone understands this principle, but the application of military strategy and tactics must be timed and placed differently. How can it be applied rigidly?

"Has Suren called again? How are the preparations for entering 'Lan Valley' going?" My thoughts temporarily escaped from the predicament at hand.

"I've been here, everything is ready, except for the final touch. Once the latest type of antivenom serum from Germany arrives, we can officially set off. Actually, you should have called and inquired about it yourself; perhaps Sister Su Lun has been waiting for your call." Xiao Keleng hesitated, knowing that outsiders shouldn't interfere in matters between men and women, so she could only hint at it briefly.

I smiled and said, "I'll call them. Thanks for reminding me."

Su Lun's lofty pursuits have gone beyond the scope of tomb raiding and archaeology. I have read the theory of the "Asian Central Gear" countless times and acknowledge its meticulous logic. If the opportunity arises, I would like to join the search for the "gear." However, what I am most eager to do right now is to enter the "Underwater Tomb" and see what my elder brother did in those passageways.

People with different values cannot work together. A good couple may not be a good work partner, let alone always share the same goals.

"Be careful of the elephant monk, see when he'll reveal his true colors!" I covered my mouth, secretly yawned, and casually instructed Xiao Keleng.

Her work ability is much higher than Xiao Lai's, and her comprehension is outstanding. I believe that apart from Su Lun, only she can understand me so well. Without words, a single glance is enough for her to understand my thoughts.

The fourth super weapon

— Chapter 9 — The Ambition of the Crimson Flame Army (Part 1) —

The pyre burned for nearly an hour, and the two bodies were completely burned to ashes.

Zhang Baisen lowered his arms and took out a black jade bottle from each of his left and right trouser pockets. The bottles were only two inches tall and slightly thicker than a thumb.

Xiao Keleng muttered in bewilderment, "What are these? They're not urns at all! Are we going to use these two bottles to hold ashes?"

The firewood no longer crackled; the cold wind whipped up the ashes, swirling and flying wildly throughout the yard.

The air was filled with a mysterious and ambiguous warmth. It was said that after cremation, the last trace of the deceased's spirit would dance in the air with the embers of the firewood, searching for a possible body to attach itself to. Some people with weak mental defenses were at risk of being possessed by the spirits of the dead, becoming victims of "reincarnation."

I shielded Xiao Keleng behind me and explained briefly: "That is the 'Soul-Destroying Bottle' of the 'Hidden Sect.' As long as you are a devout disciple of the sect, your soul will be attached to the Snow Mountain Temple after death. The Soul-Destroying Bottle can take you back to the Abu Re Palace and use the power of the snow lotus to be reborn."

Only then did I realize why Zhang Baisen had brought Master Xianyun to Fengge Temple – he was a disciple of the "Hidden Sect," and Master Xianyun was a reincarnation of a living Buddha. Furthermore, there were countless connections between Tibetan Tantric Buddhism and the Nepalese "Hidden Sect," so he and Master Xianyun were essentially family.

Zhang Baisen pulled out the black stopper from the jade bottle, and with a flick of his arms, both jade bottles flew out simultaneously, rapidly passing through the smoldering firewood pile, swirling in mid-air, and landing in his palm. The jade bottles were transparent, and Xiao Keleng and I could see that when they passed through the fire, they had returned filled with the ashes of the deceased, emitting a faint glow inside.

"The Great Way never dies, and the white snow is revered; where there is sincerity, the lotus is reborn; at the summit of a thousand peaks, only the highest and the most supreme; burn my worldly thoughts and be reborn as a human." Zhang Baisen prayed in a low voice, followed by a series of Nepali scriptures, the syllables rapid and difficult to decipher.

After he sealed the jade bottle, the monks and others came to their senses, brushing the ashes off their shoulders and gathering around him. Their remaining task was to clean up the scene and let the Reincarnation Court await the next person to die of old age.

Fujika's cremation will certainly not take place here. Japan has a funeral service exclusively for the Imperial Family, with extremely complex and elaborate rituals that are almost unimaginable to ordinary people.

I understand that Zhang Baisen's trip to Hokkaido is coming to an end. After suffering such a great setback and losing the Shao brothers, he should realize that challenging the "Tianren Alliance" alone is not a wise move.

The elephant monk was the first to approach the fire, carrying a huge iron shovel, intending to shovel the ashes and bone ash into a nearby iron box. Logically, this task shouldn't have been his responsibility, but rather the work of the monks in charge of chanting and refining scriptures. His suspicions grew, to the point where his actions were riddled with inconsistencies.

Zhang Baisen suddenly roared, his palms circling and pressing down, creating a howling gust of wind on the flat ground.

I was standing at least twenty-five paces away from him, but a sudden gust of wind amplified the residual heat of the flames, which hit my face directly. I felt a burning sensation on my brow and couldn't help but tilt my head back to avoid it, bumping into Xiao Keleng's forehead with a thud. If I hadn't been distracted by thinking about the connection between the "Hidden Sect" and Tibetan Tantric Buddhism, I could have easily dealt with this sudden change. But now, Xiao Keleng let out a low cry, covered his head with both hands, and hissed as he gritted his teeth.

The elephant monk, who was standing very close to Zhang Baisen, was thrown into the air by the strong wind and fell westward, landing with a thud on the roof of the west wing, smashing more than a dozen blue tiles with a crash before tumbling to the ground. The other monks, before they could even get close to the fire, were uncontrollably thrown backward and fell, crying out incoherently, "Ouch, ouch!"

The ashes, still covered in embers, suddenly flew into the air and, with Zhang Baisen's rapid arm movements, stretched into a fierce, angry dragon, more than seven meters long. Against the backdrop of the dim, hazy night, the scene was truly magnificent.

“Go—go…” Zhang Baisen twisted his waist and spun around, leaping into the air and pushing his arms northward. The angry dragon also flew high, over the roof of the north house, and rushed far into the vast night sky. It flew against the wind for more than thirty meters before it scattered and fell off the cliff.

The Elephant Monk groaned softly; his feigned exhaustion only served to further confirm that he was a "fake" Elephant Monk. Clearly, during his descent, he had employed a masterful "Millennial Drop" gliding technique to deflect Zhang Baisen's palm strike, allowing him to land lightly on the rooftop. The act of crushing the roof tiles was a deliberate act to mislead others.

Xiao Keleng released his hands, realizing the strangeness of the elephant monk, and asked in a low voice, "Mr. Feng, are you wondering who he is?"

“He’s someone with exceptional lightness skills, above you. If we don’t use firearms, I’m afraid we won’t be able to stop him.” As I answered, Xiao Keleng had already preemptively released the safety of his pistol, making two soft “click, click” sounds.

The buildings of Fengge Temple stretched out in a continuous line, with many dark corners. If someone intended to escape, they could disappear into the vast darkness within seconds. Xiao Keleng emerged from behind me, feigning a look of horror, and quietly moved westward, forming a pincer movement around the monks from another angle.

The blue brick floor was spotless. Zhang Baisen's splitting palm technique was extremely skillful. Even when he was injured, his palm power was still incredibly strong.

He straightened his clothes, clasped his hands together in a deep bow in the direction where the ashes disappeared, and then strode towards me.

"Feng, now that the Shao brothers are gone, it's time for me to leave too." His square face was etched with the weariness of time, the high spirits he had when he first arrived at Fengge Temple completely gone. Back then, when he fought against Master Shenbi and the five great masters—Dragon, Elephant, Lion, and Tiger—he probably never imagined such a dejected end.

"Go back to Nepal?" I asked tentatively.

“Yes, Master Xianyun told me that life is like a game of chess, and the game ends when all the kos are played. In this game, I have already completely conceded defeat. I don’t even have any ko threats left. If I stay any longer, I will forever be a laughing stock in the martial arts world.” His gaze involuntarily drifted to the roof of the north house, and he smiled bitterly, his brows furrowing deeply, the lines deep and dark, like a dozen or so Burmese knives hanging high.

It's easy to dodge a spear in the open, but hard to guard against an arrow in the dark. He could defeat the masters of Fengge Temple, but he couldn't find the murderer who assassinated Shao Bai, or even a single clue.

"Please give my regards to Master Banaidu. Several years ago, when I passed through Nepal, I heard him preach the profound teachings of the snowy land amidst thousands of people, and I benefited greatly. I hope to have the opportunity to visit him again at Abu Ra Palace in the future—" I extended my hand to Zhang Baisen, feeling helpless about this outcome.