Iron Bull taucht wieder auf

Kapitel 92

Through the tinted windshield, I watched his spiky hair slowly fall back down, returning to his dashing parted style. His gaze swept across the van almost imperceptibly, and he frowned slightly. He had a classic square face, large, bright eyes that shone with a sharp light. He had a high nose, a mouth shaped like an ingot, and a ruddy complexion. Although he hadn't uttered a word throughout the entire incident, he naturally exuded an aura of righteous indignation.

Anzi was completely stunned. Only after the minibus on the other side started up again and passed the tour bus did she pound her chest, pretending to be "pale-faced and terrified".

I breathed a sigh of relief, my shock subsiding. If a car accident had actually occurred, although I could have escaped by opening the door the moment the two cars collided, I wouldn't have been able to save Anzi's life. This time, I really have to thank Zhang Baisen.

“That’s… Mr. Zhang Baisen, the Chinese master of special abilities… Is he going to Xunfuyuan?” Anzi turned around, looking at the shadow of the minibus with admiration.

The only destination at the end of this road is Xunfu Garden; in other words, this road is Xunfu Garden's private road.

I'm quite interested in Zhang Baisen's purpose in visiting Xunfu Garden, but Wang Jiangnan's Sharpshooter Gang is currently stationed there, and he's at the height of his power and influence. I don't want to get involved. Perhaps Zhang Baisen is here to discuss some important business with Wang Jiangnan?

I waved my hand and told Anzi to drive.

Several charred black skid marks on the ground were shocking. The deepest one had carved a 30-centimeter-wide, 3-centimeter-deep groove into the asphalt, stretching for four or five meters. I knew these were left by the minibus wheels. For Zhang Baisen to unleash his punches, he had to lower his stance, channeling his power through his feet and distributing it directly to the four tires. It seemed his "hitting a cow across a mountain" technique hadn't yet reached its highest, purest level. In the martial arts world, there was once a master from southwestern mainland China who had honed this extremely powerful punch to the point of being able to generate force while suspended in mid-air—I, the scalpel, had witnessed it firsthand.

Anzi's attitude had softened considerably; she stopped talking, pouted, and had a gloomy expression, focusing solely on driving.

Turn right at the fork in the road and drive for three kilometers. The bushes on both sides gradually become denser, indicating that they are maintained daily. Tall road signs flash by, displaying the name "Shentou Town" in English, French, Chinese, and Japanese.

Soon, a black three-story building came into view on the right side of the road. The building faced southwest, stood with the sea behind the mountain, and was built entirely of black rock. It was completely covered by dried Japanese ivy, making it look extremely dilapidated and decadent.

In front of the house, a large open space was enclosed by a black-painted spiky bamboo fence, and the ground was paved with black stone slabs. From a distance, the entire town of Shentou resembled a crouching, giant black bat.

My nerves were suddenly jolted, because according to the residential building customs of Japan and even Asia, very few people deliberately live in black houses, as it is the most unlucky way to live.

Furthermore, the ground of the courtyard was made black, and combined with the black spikes pointing to the sky, it formed a "black evil array" layout for a yin house, which was extremely bizarre.

According to the explanations in the classics on yin and yang dwellings, if a living person lives in a house with the layout of a yin dwelling, he will surely die young, and his descendants will be endlessly killed by the yin dwelling. Men will not live past forty and women past thirty, and their luck will be extremely bad.

As the car approached Shentou Town, I patted Anzi's seat and said, "Let's stop for a bit."

The car slid forward for more than ten meters until it passed the area directly in front of the black house, and then slowly came to a stop on the side of the road.

Anzi shifted her shoulders uneasily: "Mr. Feng, why do we have to stop here? You know this place is strange; terrifying things always happen here..."

She glanced nervously at the dark house in Shentou Town, as if some terrifying monster might burst out of it at any moment.

My hand was already on the car door handle, about to get out and take a look, when I suddenly noticed a three-meter-high black flag fluttering atop the building. Embroidered with a large, leaping red flame, it billowed and rippled in the sea breeze. The flagpole was positioned at a very clever angle; the black flag blended perfectly into the dark background, making it completely invisible when facing the building directly.

The "Black Fiend Array" combined with the "Water and Fire Flags" creates a rather subtle arrangement. Its purpose is to "destroy both oneself and others, leading to mutual destruction," making it a vicious and deadly layout. Its immense destructive power will cause the families living directly opposite it to suffer ruin and separation. However, the most bizarre aspect is that Shentou Town faces an endless sea beyond the wilderness.

No one lives in the ocean, and this isn't a deep-water port, so large ships can't dock here. Therefore, no matter how malicious the designer of Shentou Town was, they were wasting their time and effort.

The house is not located due east or west, but at a 30-degree angle to the southwest. Undoubtedly, the designer put a lot of thought into the construction of the house, and every unique feature has a subtle meaning.

Japanese feng shui is entirely derived from mainland China and Hong Kong, almost a direct copy. Unfortunately, my understanding of feng shui is not yet profound enough to fully unravel the strangeness of this layout.

The walls of Fengge Temple were already in sight, and the majestic pagoda seemed to beckon me with an irresistible allure.

After a five-minute stop near Shentou Town, Anzi restarted the car and drove up the winding mountain road, telling me, "In fifteen minutes, we will arrive at the temple gate, where the monk Bingjian, who is in charge of reception, will accompany us throughout the visit."

Before long, the eerie town of Shentou was left behind.

Last time I visited Fengge Temple, I was just an unknown backpacker, completely unaware of the influence of the scalpel in the local area. I was simply sightseeing and didn't seem to notice the strangeness of Shentou Town.

I carefully sketched the exterior of that big house in my mind. It was a three-story structure with a total of fifty-five doors and windows. From top to bottom, it was completely black, like a strange rock with countless eyes of different sizes.

It's truly bizarre that such a desolate place could become a must-stop for tourists visiting Hokkaido. This shows that most people are ignorant and foolish, only concerned with enjoying delicious sea turtle in Kamishiro Town, unaware that they are venturing into an extremely dangerous and perilous place.

I turned my head to look back, and through the rear window of the car, the pitch-black Shentou Town gradually became blurred, but its sinister and malicious layout of "Black Fiend Array, Water and Fire Flag" was still deeply engraved in my mind.

"Why did Scalpel acquire this place? If it can't be used for their own purposes, why spend so much money to buy this burden? Unless... unless it's to protect tourists, to acquire it and then destroy it all, breaking this deadly trap and ensuring the safety of tourists entering Fukuji Temple. However, such 'good deeds' that benefit the people should be done by the Japanese government, it's not Scalpel's style at all!"

Anzi, who had been silent, suddenly smiled awkwardly and said, "Mr. Feng, about what happened just now... please... don't tell Miss Xiao, okay?"

She stared at me in the rearview mirror, and let out another long sigh: "What I'm talking about isn't...not the near-car accident...but..." Her face flushed, and her expression clearly showed extreme disappointment.

I nodded briefly in response, "I didn't hear anything, we didn't talk about anything, OK?" I don't like Japanese girls, but that doesn't stop Japanese girls from liking me.

An Zi breathed a sigh of relief, feeling much more relaxed: "Thank you, thank you so much."

The air inside the car was somewhat stuffy, so I cracked open the window a crack, letting in the mountain winds of Hokkaido mixed with the sea breeze, creating a piercing whistling sound. The Tower of the Dead drew closer, its white eaves and spires carrying a certain unknown mystery, repeatedly stimulating my sense of curiosity.

After winding around the mountain road about fourteen times, the road turned northeast and became a wide stone-paved avenue, ending at a Japanese ink painting style double-eaved hip roof gate with soaring eaves on both sides.

The car drove all the way to the entrance of Fengge Temple. A Japanese monk in his thirties smiled and walked down the bluestone steps, clasped his hands together and nodded to me: "Are you Mr. Feng? This humble monk has been waiting for you for a long time."

I wasn't surprised by his fluent Chinese. After all, Wat Phnom is an internationally renowned tourist attraction, and many Chinese people visit it, so there must be staff in the temple who are fluent in Chinese.

Bingjian was rather thin, but his footwork was very steady, clearly indicating a deep foundation in martial arts. He always wore a faint smile, exuding humility and refinement. If he were to wear glasses, he would instantly resemble a well-read academic professor.

Anzi was left alone in the car, while Bingjian led me through the mountain gate.

At this time, the sun was gradually setting in the west, and the sky was gradually darkening.

Returning to this place, my feelings upon entering the gate of Fengge Temple were quite different this time. As soon as I entered the huge square courtyard behind the gate, a heavy sense of oppression immediately filled my heart. In the center of the courtyard, there was a pool of water about four meters square, with rippling blue waves that overflowed to the edge, creating a series of small ripples with each step.

This is the "Well of Spirits" in Fuuki-ji Temple, whose fame is no less than that of the "Tower of the Dead." Many Japanese people bathe and fast, and travel from afar to have their secrets revealed in front of the "Well of Spirits."

Bingjian was wearing gray monk's shoes with soft cowhide soles, which made his steps light and silent, so the only sound on the stone floor was the clattering of his shoes.

After walking fifteen steps forward, I was standing in front of the stone tablet erected by the pond.

Part 2: Tower of the Dead

— Chapter 8- Fengqiao Temple—

"Mr. Feng is very interested in the Divine Well?" Bingjian smiled, his narrow eyes squinting.

My hand rested on the two-meter-high stone tablet, my fingers slowly tracing the weathered surface of the inscriptions. The ancient Japanese characters on the tablet recorded the origin and wonders of this ancient well. Many of the mystical phrases were translated into multiple languages and spread all over the world, becoming increasingly legendary with each passing tale.

"The exact year when the 'Well of Spirits' originated is unknown, but one thing is certain: in the Muwanzhoushan area, this well was the first to possess divine power. Then the 'Tower of the Dead' was built beside it, and finally, Fengge Temple appeared, strictly protecting the sacred well and the ancient tower. If Mr. Feng is interested, you might as well go to the tower to pray, and then return here. The answer you seek will appear on the water's surface..."

Bingjian spoke eloquently, having memorized these familiar clichés.

"Really?" I asked with a smile. As it turns out, the term "spiritual communication" is just a hype gimmick. Out of ten thousand people who go to the temple to pray, probably not even one will receive guidance. All the miraculous legends are just the result of misinformation.

Bing frowned at his smooth forehead and grinned: "Mr. Feng, the most important thing in the world is to be serious. Besides, even if Buddha really wanted to show his power to the world, he couldn't possibly take care of everyone every day, could he?" His gray monk's robe was a bit thin, and after standing by the pond for a long time, his lips gradually turned pale from the cold.

I crouched down and put my hands into the pool. The water was icy cold, crystal clear, and incredibly deep; I could clearly see the tiny aquatic plants four meters below the surface. Further down, it gradually turned a deep, dark green, and then I could see nothing at all. According to records, regardless of drought or flood, the water in the well only reached the edge of the pool before stopping, neither overflowing nor dropping.

The information in the records is unverifiable, but at least on my two visits to Fengge Temple, the water level remained unchanged, exactly level with the surface of the pool.

"The water is cold, Mr. Feng, be careful not to freeze your blood vessels." Bingjian kindly reminded him, taking a few steps back as if he couldn't withstand the icy air churning up from the well.

I withdrew my hands and stroked the fuzzy moss along the edge of the pond. The water wasn't calm; the mountain wind was only one factor, but the key was that there seemed to be constant, turbulent undercurrents at the bottom of the well, forming layer upon layer of tiny eddies on the surface. In my view, the "warnings and guidance" that people glean from the water's surface are merely the irregular ripples caused by the eddies; how to interpret them depends entirely on one's boundless imagination.

"Master Bingjian, how deep is this well?" I only care about physics. Of course, tourist information says that the "Well of Spirits" is unfathomably deep and should lead directly to the "Sea Eye." Just as the "Tower of the Dead" was a tool used by the ancients to "suppress the Sea Eye," the government is considering building another pagoda to suppress the "Well of Spirits."

The Japanese will stop at nothing to "attract attention," just as South Koreans can claim the "Dragon Boat Festival" as their own.

Like the "Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity," anything appearing in promotional materials is highly unreliable.

Seeing that Bing had retreated to a distance of ten paces from the pool, he replied with a serious expression, "Mr. Feng, the best description of this question has already been given in the tourist information—it is unfathomable. That is the only answer."

The courtyard was surrounded by gray-blue covered walkways on all four sides, with six doors leading outwards, making it extremely secluded.

It wasn't dusk yet, but for some reason, as soon as I stepped into the temple gate, I felt a sense of darkness descending, as if an invisible, intangible gloom was pressing down on me, making it impossible to move. I knew that if I continued forward through two courtyards, in a larger and more spacious courtyard, I would find Hokkaido's most famous Buddhist building—the "Tower of the Dead."

The temple was eerily quiet, as if there were no other monks besides Bingjian and me. Even the most expected sound of chanting was absent. We walked towards the back courtyard without encountering a single monk. Keep in mind, Fengge Temple had over four hundred people, including monks and laborers; how could they have vanished so suddenly?

Passing through a greyish-white moon gate, one is greeted by an extremely spacious courtyard—actually, not a courtyard, but a huge plaza about sixty meters square. In the center of the plaza stands a robust, imposing, milky-white pagoda, nearly twenty meters in diameter, rising straight upwards. Compared to it, the surrounding temples and palaces appear as insignificant ant nests. Standing at such close range, one must crane one's neck to see its spire, instantly filling one with a feeling of insignificance and humility.

The first level of the pagoda has four entrances on the east, west, south, and north sides. There are no elaborate decorations, just simple and elegant white stone archways, nearly three meters high and more than one and a half meters wide.

“Mr. Feng, it’s a pity that the tower is currently undergoing winter renovations, so we can’t invite you to the top of the tower to see the sea view. I’m really sorry.” Bingjian’s brows were furrowed, but it was definitely not because of the regret of “not being able to climb to the top”, but for some other reason.

"Viewing the sea from the top of the tower" is indeed one of the major attractions when visiting Fengge Temple. It is certainly a pity that you cannot climb to the top. However, I do not believe his reason of "winter maintenance" because the tower is quiet and there is not a single person in sight. So how can there be any maintenance?

The square is paved with the same milky-white stone slabs. When I stare intently at the ground, I can't help but wonder: "Is the legendary 'undersea tomb' beneath this? Where is the path leading to that mysterious place?" The square is so vast, with no fewer than thousands of stone slabs. Who knows which one holds the secret?

Inside the pagoda, there are spiral staircases leading all the way to the spire, which I visited last time.

If the pagoda is the "arrow" in the "arrow piercing the heart" formation, then I'm beginning to suspect that the arrow's target isn't Xunfu Garden, but somewhere much more distant. Fengge Temple faces south-west at a 30-degree angle—a direction that leads only to the boundless sea. Therefore, the target of the "arrow piercing the heart" formation could be a location somewhere in the vast ocean, perhaps even an island…

As I strolled towards the pagoda, I realized why there was a sense of gloom; it was because the Fengge Temple's architecture was designed with a higher outer perimeter and a lower inner elevation. Centered on the "Tower of the Dead," the terrain decreased in elevation the closer one got to the base. From the moon gate I had just entered through to the foot of the pagoda, a distance of twenty meters, the elevation had dropped by more than two meters.

In this way, those standing by the tower are essentially in the bottom of a giant cauldron, and one can imagine how depressed they must feel.

The crevices of the stone on the pagoda are covered with dark green moss. Despite the daily cleaning by the monks, irregular patterns left by water stains can still be seen on the surface of the stone.

“Mr. Feng, you’ve seen the pagoda and the well. I wonder if you’re interested in any other attractions in the temple?” Although Bingjian maintained a smile, I could tell that his emotions were changing and he was gradually losing patience.

I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Master Bingjian, I have a question for you. Where have all the monks, young and old, gone? Did they all take a holiday and leave today?"

According to his seniority, he absolutely does not deserve the title of "master"; this is just a polite way of addressing him.

Bingjian's smile immediately froze: "No? Everyone's in their rooms meditating and cultivating, they don't have time to run around..."

I pointed to the north side of the pagoda and sneered, "The smoke from the 'Marrow Cleansing Hall' is swirling around; there must be a major religious ceremony taking place. What? Does the temple not welcome outsiders? Do you need to deliberately hide it?"

"Xi Sui Tang" is the secluded residence of Abbot Shenbi of Fengge Temple, and it has always been off-limits to tourists. However, since it is only Abbot Shenbi's residence, there would never be such thick smoke drifting out. Ever since I turned through the moon gate, I noticed that the blue smoke was constantly drifting in the wind. Strangely, I only saw the blue smoke and did not hear the sounds of bells, drums, or wooden fish. What kind of strange ritual could it be?

The soldier was speechless and unable to answer.

To get to the "Marrow Cleansing Hall" from here, you have to go around at least four winding corridors, a journey that stretches for at least a kilometer. I'm not one to meddle, and if I weren't concerned about Tengjia, I wouldn't have bothered asking.

An awkward silence fell between us. Bingjian coughed a few times and mumbled, "Mr. Feng, that's a private matter within our temple; it's none of your business. Let's go look elsewhere..."

I could only get straight to the point: "Master Bingjian, I know a girl named Fujika who has been sent to Fengge Temple to receive treatment from the high monks. She is my friend; we were together before she became a vegetable. So, if this ceremony is related to Miss Fujika, please tell Master Shenbi that I hope to meet her and perhaps provide him with some useful information..."

Thinking of Tengjia's mysterious identity, I couldn't help but think of the strange rituals at Fengge Temple. What help could I possibly offer besides a detailed description of the bizarre events in the ancient pyramid tomb? That damned "resurrection sand" was completely useless; we were all fooled by the dragon and Yelan.

Bingjian's expression changed several times, and he stared at me with his mouth half open.

I knew that the ritual was for Fujika; I had hit the nail on the head regarding Heimi's thoughts.

"That's a matter for the temple. I'm of low rank and don't know anything about it. I'm sorry," Bingjian politely declined. Indeed, given his status, he was only slightly higher than an ordinary servant and didn't even have the qualifications to participate in religious ceremonies.

I strode towards the moon gate to the due north, having made up my mind to "force my way in".

Bingjian was taken aback, then suddenly leaped up, stretching out his arms to block my way, his face darkening: "Mr. Feng, the temple rules are strict, please do not trespass."

At this moment, as the sun began to set, all the sunlight was blocked by the west wall of the temple, and the view gradually began to blur. I believe that dusk comes earlier at Fengge Temple than elsewhere, and everyone feels as if they are living at the bottom of a giant well—suddenly, I remembered the hallucination that Guan Baoling described; she always had the feeling of "sitting in a well and looking at the sky." Could this be what I am feeling now?

I couldn't help but suddenly look up at the sky, and sure enough, the dim, yellow sky seemed exceptionally ethereal and distant, perfectly capturing the feeling of "a frog in a well looking at the sky." A bone-chilling cold suddenly filled my entire body, and I couldn't help but shiver violently, my body shaking four or five times.

If Guan Baoling had such intense feelings during her hallucinations, could it be that what she described was a real experience? Was she not lying to anyone, but genuinely had a strange encounter in another dimension?

Through my clothes, I touched the black and silver ring again, while thinking about my other mission in coming to Maple Temple: to find Reese and get some answers.

"Mr. Feng, please do not trespass. Otherwise, it is my duty to offend you." Bing's smile had faded, and his wrist, elbow, and shoulder bones were cracking, a clear sign that he was about to stretch his muscles.

From his walking posture, I could already tell that he possessed extraordinary skill in at least two areas: karate and judo.

"I only want to see Miss Fujika. Could you make an exception?" I held my tongue, knowing we were in a Japanese temple, not the time to be competitive or aggressive. Besides, I only wanted to see Master Shinbeki; if it was for Fujika's good, he would surely grant me an audience.

Seeing the cracking sounds from the joints in his body become more intense, and his right foot slowly step back into a lunge stance, the most suitable position for delivering a powerful punch, he silently rejected my request.