With that, he drew out a stack of paper talismans and flung them toward the Bodhi tree. The talismans instantly linked into a circle, encircling the trunk. As the incantation was recited, the talismans ignited simultaneously. The red talismanic runes gradually enlarged and, accompanied by a radiant glow, detached from the paper, forming a hollow talismanic pillar that extended upward and downward.
As the pillar continued to elongate, the originally massive Bodhi tree gradually vanished, eventually transforming into a deeply grooved, withered Bodhi Bead that rolled onto the ground. Then, a wisp of golden smoke slowly drifted out from the bead, materializing into an elderly monk.
“Amitabha, this humble monk is Guangzhi,” the old monk said, his eyes half-lowered, revealing neither sorrow nor joy.
Observing the monk’s kind and benevolent expression, Lin Yao surmised he must have been a highly accomplished monk in his lifetime. Puzzled, she asked, “Venerable Master, what connection do you have with that Kongming?”
Guangzhi did not respond immediately. Instead, he turned and pushed open the door to the room, stepping inside.
He proceeded to light the oil lamps in the room one by one. Then, he sat cross-legged at the head position, picked up the Buddhist prayer beads from the table, and began rolling them between his fingers.
Under the flickering lamplight, the room’s furnishings were clearly visible—it was nothing more than an ordinary meditation room.
“Honored guests may enter. This humble monk will recount a tale buried in dust,” Guangzhi offered.
Yan Wuyou had been considering just that. Upon hearing the invitation, he strode confidently inside and settled cross-legged on a cushion. Lin Yao and Wang Chuan sat on either side of him, and the three listened quietly…
A century ago, at the foot of Mao Xi Mountain stood a small temple named Pujing Temple. The courtyard they now occupied was once the residence of the abbot, Guangzhi.
As Guangzhi grew older, he decided to select the most outstanding disciple among his followers to become his personal disciple, who would eventually inherit his mantle.
After multiple rounds of selection, ten disciples made the final cut. Among them, the most favored was the monk Kongwen. As the senior disciple, Kongwen held seniority and prestige, and his skills were formidable, making him the top contender.
It seemed a foregone conclusion, and Guangzhi was inclined to let Kongwen inherit the mantle. However, during the final martial trial, Kongming emerged as a dark horse.
Though Kongming had entered the temple a few years later than Kongwen, he possessed exceptional talent and a profound root of wisdom, gradually revealing his capabilities over the years. Yet, no one had anticipated that this unassuming junior disciple had attained such remarkable mastery. In just a few years, none of the other disciples would surpass him!
His astonishing potential stirred a flicker of doubt in Guangzhi.
Ultimately, Guangzhi decided to take both as personal disciples, imparting to them all his lifelong skills. After a year, regardless of who ultimately inherited the mantle, both would have achieved significant growth in their techniques, justifying their year of diligent effort. What was intended as motivation, however, inadvertently sowed the seeds of calamity.
Over the course of that year, Kongming’s cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds. Disciples who had initially supported Kongwen gradually shifted their allegiance to Kongming, and even Guangzhi could not help but show signs of admiration.
All of this stirred discontent and jealousy in Kongwen.
A year later, the true contest officially began. On the day of the trial, Kongwen applied Jiuluo Powder to his palm. When the two exchanged blows, he used his inner energy to drive the powder into Kongming’s body. At the time, Kongming only felt a warmth in his palm and noticed nothing else amiss. The match proceeded without suspense, and he won with overwhelming superiority.
Unfortunately, his joy was short-lived. Within a few days, Kongming gradually began to notice something wrong with his body.
The first sign of abnormality in his body appeared three days after the competition. That morning, Kongming rose as usual for morning prayer but discovered his right hand trembling uncontrollably. Initially, he assumed it was an injury sustained during his palm strike with his senior brother, and since the trembling subsided after morning prayer, he paid it no mind.
In the following days, however, the trembling in his right hand grew increasingly severe and prolonged. A faint unease told him this was no simple matter. Suddenly, he recalled the burning sensation in his palm during the strike with his senior brother and inwardly exclaimed in alarm.
Thus, Kongming began secretly trailing Kongwen, searching for clues until he discovered traces of strange powder scattered on the floor of Kongwen’s room.
He brought the powder to Master Guangzhi for examination.
“This is Jiuluo Powder,” Master Guangzhi frowned after inspecting it. “While not lethal, it dissipates one’s cultivation. For practitioners, it is no less cruel than murder—a truly vicious substance. Where did you obtain this?”
Kongming was horrified. If his cultivation were completely lost, wouldn’t he become a cripple?
Though terrified, he maintained composure and replied calmly, “Master, these past few days, I noticed Senior Brother seemed deeply troubled. Fearing he might harbor resentment over the competition and damage our fellowship, I went to reconcile with him. He wasn’t in his room, but I found this peculiar powder on the floor. Worried it might cause harm, I brought it for your inspection.”
“You acted wisely. I too have been concerned Kongwen might grow obsessive and develop inner demons,” Master Guangzhi said gravely. “Fetch him at once.”
“Yes, Master.” As Kongming turned to leave, he paused and asked with feigned calm, “Master, if one is poisoned by Jiuluo Powder, is there an antidote?”
Master Guangzhi shook his head. “There is none.”
The word “none” struck Kongming like Nine Heavens Profound Lightning crashing upon his crown. He nodded woodenly and left the meditation room.
Returning to his quarters, Kongming’s eyes gleamed with murderous intent as he seethed inwardly: I bear no ill will, yet others seek my life!
So be it—this is heaven’s will.
Kongming retrieved an aged book from a hidden compartment under his bed—a forbidden text he had once stumbled upon in a cave, detailing an Evil Art that could rapidly enhance cultivation. Over the years, though tempted, he had always restrained himself with conscience.
This Evil Art was called the Fetus-eating Primal Infant Gu.
The book’s cover had a hidden layer containing Gu worm eggs, which would hatch into Gu upon consuming a fetus.
Kongming found an excuse to descend the mountain, murdered a pregnant woman, and used the fetus to hatch the eggs into Gu. The Gu worm split into two: the child Gu manipulated the woman’s spirit to harm others, while the mother Gu entered Kongming’s body. Through their unique bond, the essence obtained by the child Gu was transferred to Kongming, drastically boosting his power.
When summoned for questioning by Master Guangzhi, Kongwen did not confess to the poisoning. He claimed to have accidentally encountered the substance during his descent from the mountain, unaware it was Jiuluo Powder. Since no one in the temple reported being poisoned, the matter was eventually dropped.
Kongming likely didn’t dare let the master know he was about to become a cripple, fearing he would lose his status as a personal disciple. But what good would that do? In less than half a month, his cultivation would dissipate completely, and then the master would choose him to inherit the mantle instead. Thinking this, Kongwen unconsciously curled the corners of his mouth upward.
Half a month later, not only had Kongming not lost his cultivation, but his power had surged dramatically. Only from his earlobes down to his neck, after absorbing the nourishment of the child Gu, faint black patterns would emerge intermittently, throbbing with pain.
But what did it matter? Kongming channeled his eerie yet profound magical power, his eyes blazing with excitement! The time had come—Kongwen, it was your turn to face retribution!
That night, Kongwen lay in a pool of blood, staring incredulously at his junior disciple brother before him. Stubbornly, he uttered his last words: “You… how could you?” Then, filled with resentment and terror, his heart meridian snapped completely.
Kongming gazed coldly at the mangled corpse on the ground and sneered, “You have none but yourself to blame.”
The next day, Kongwen’s body was discovered, causing an uproar.
“Such a sinister technique is certainly not the work of an ordinary person.”
“After the martial trial, the senior disciple brother did act strangely. Could he have been possessed by an inner demon?”
Several disciples whispered among themselves.
Kongming feigned shock: “Could it be that senior disciple brother had a grudge against a demon?”
Master Guangzhi recalled the earlier incident with the Jiuluo Powder. If Kongwen had colluded with a demon, the demon must have promised him benefits. At that time, during the critical moment of the martial trial, it must have been related to the selection of the personal disciple. Yet, in the end, Kongwen had not gotten his wish and had instead died tragically in his room. What exactly had happened?
Could it be related to Kongming?
To avoid causing unnecessary panic and to prevent alerting the enemy, Master Guangzhi kept his suspicions to himself. Instead, he assigned several disciples to investigate the matter openly as a cover, while he conducted his own secret inquiry.
A month later, Master Guangzhi indeed uncovered clues.
After the morning prayer that day, Master Guangzhi asked Kongming to stay behind to discuss Buddhist teachings. Unexpectedly, Kongming suffered a backlash of demonic power, and faint black patterns appeared behind his ears.
Sensing something amiss, Master Guangzhi said slowly, “The Dirgha Agama Sutra states: ‘Good man, there are four things that bring great benefit and offer protection to others. What are the four? First, to stop others from doing evil; second, to guide others toward righteousness; third, to show compassion and empathy; fourth, to point the way to heavenly paths.'”
Seeing that Kongming remained unmoved, he continued, “For the sake of personal gain, you have harmed the innocent and slain your fellow disciple. Kongming, will you still not turn back?”
“What does the master mean by this?” Kongming pretended to be startled.
Master Guangzhi shook his head and took a string of yellow prayer beads from his sleeve, placing it on the table.
“I found this on Kongwen. The prayer beads of the temple’s disciples symbolize their identity. This string has exactly twenty-one beads,” Master Guangzhi said coldly. “And you are the twenty-first disciple of the Kong generation.”
“I lost my prayer beads some time ago and couldn’t find them. So they were with senior disciple brother.”
“Feel the back of your neck.”
Kongming reached back and indeed felt raised lines—without looking, he knew they were the black patterns. Seeing that his secret was exposed, he burst into laughter instead—
“Indeed, I killed senior disciple brother, but he harmed me first!” Then, starting from the day of the martial trial, Kongming recounted everything that had happened in detail.
“Master, Elder Brother brought this upon himself. He has no one to blame but me.” Finally, Kongming’s eyes gleamed darkly, “Had I accepted my fate, I would be a cripple by now.”
“Kongwen is guilty, but his crimes do not warrant death. Moreover, how can you presume to decide life and death?”
Upon hearing this, Kongming’s eyes instantly overflowed with fierce resentment as he angrily retorted, “Is it because I didn’t die? Master, you are unfair to me!”
“When you committed the killing karma, did you ever consider the word ‘fairness’?”
“What’s done is done. What does Master wish me to do now?”
“Abandon your cultivation and be confined for life in the repentance chamber, chanting sutras in penitence.”
Kongming pressed his palms together and said, “Your disciple thanks Master for sparing my life.” With these words, he suddenly gathered palm energy and struck at Guangzhi—