Futile Devices Scans

Yingpan looked somewhat embarrassed and thanked Helan Zhenjia repeatedly. Just then, Nayan Kun reported from outside, “Reporting to the Sect Leader, the Guidance Chamber and True Spirit have been prepared. Please invite the Sect Leader and Young Master to proceed to the side hall of Chiming Courtyard.”

Helan Zhenjia nodded. “Understood.” Yingpan gave Qingtie a shove and scolded in a low voice, “Hurry and follow!”

Qingtie shuffled reluctantly toward Helan Zhenjia, turning his head every few steps. Still unwilling to surrender his last hope, he kept looking toward Baitie and the Commandery Prince of Ganyang as though praying one of them would save him.

Yingpan turned away and ignored him completely. Baitie looked back and forth between his father, puffed up with rage like a blowfish, and his younger brother, frightened like a quail. In the end, he rose. “I’ll go with you and see you as far as the door. That’s acceptable, isn’t it?”

Qingtie nodded frantically. “Good brother, you really are my dear elder brother! This is what they mean when they say an elder brother is like a father—mmph!”

Baitie rushed over and clamped a hand over his indiscreet mouth, shoved him through the doorway, then turned back toward Yingpan. “Father, don’t you still have the Marquis of Ningcheng’s banquet to attend at noon? Qingtie will take a while here. Why don’t you take the others down the mountain first? I’ll return with him afterward.”

Yingpan had spent money and donated lamp oil to curry favor with the Ten Aspects Sect, only for his own son to become the greatest embarrassment at the crucial moment. He no longer had the face to linger at the main altar and waved impatiently. “I know. Go.” After thinking for a moment, he added resentfully, “Keep an eye on that little bastard. Don’t let him disgrace me in front of the Sect Leader!”

“Yes, yes, I understand.” Baitie soothed him patiently. “Don’t worry, Father. With me here, nothing will go wrong.”

The Guest Reception Steward chimed in, “Your Highness visits the Palace of Dispelling Calamities often. You know perfectly well what the main altar is like. Please go down the mountain without concern. We will certainly take the greatest care of both young masters.”

With everyone having laid the steps so neatly before him, the Commandery Prince could hardly refuse to descend them. He cupped his hands toward Helan Zhenjia. “I’ll take my leave for today. I trouble the Sect Leader to look after these two troublesome sons of mine. When I have time, I’ll come back up the mountain to thank you properly.”

Every visit he made came accompanied by enormous offerings of wealth, and no one had ever complained that money burned their hands. Helan Zhenjia naturally accepted the courtesy and returned his salute. “It is merely a small matter, hardly worth mentioning. Your Highness is too gracious.” He ordered the Guest Reception Steward to escort the Commandery Prince safely down the mountain, then gestured toward the door. “Young masters, please.”

The group left Shusheng Pavilion and followed the winding stone paths, turning left and right until they reached Chiming Courtyard, north of Guanyin Hall.

The main hall of Chiming Courtyard enshrined a Wisdom King Bodhisattva. The quiet chamber used for the Guidance ritual occupied a smaller side hall to the west. The courtyard was sealed shut, surrounded by dense trees. It was so secluded that not only human voices but even birdsong and insect calls were absent.

Baitie, Nayan Kun, and the others remained outside beneath the corridor. Qingtie, nervous yet curious, followed closely behind Helan Zhenjia into the hall.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the light dimmed. A heavy mixture of sandalwood and musk rushed straight into his head. Layer upon layer of pale red curtains draped to the ground; opaque cloth covered every door and window. Only lamps and candles illuminated the chamber, their hazy light flickering between brightness and shadow until merely standing there for a while made one inexplicably dizzy.

Qingtie looked around. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that the lampstands were unusually shaped and unlike anything in his own home. Leaning closer, he discovered that they had all been sculpted in graceful human forms, their faces and expressions almost lifelike. His heart jumped, and he hurriedly looked away—only to meet the sight of several Joyful Buddha statues upon the altar, every explicit detail rendered vividly. He raised his eyes again and found the walls covered in bright murals depicting every imaginable variety of “demons fighting,” painted down to the finest detail.

Like some scholar who had blundered into a fox spirit’s den, he flushed scarlet with embarrassment. Unable to endure it any longer, he dragged his wandering gaze back and fixed it firmly upon the wide stone platform in the middle of the room. Its base was carved in the shape of a lotus, with bright yellow tassels hanging from the edge.

Then Helan Zhenjia lifted the curtain and revealed the most important—and most dangerous—“display” in the room.

Qingtie: “…”

On the lotus platform lay an unmoving figure about the same size as himself… a person.

Deep red sleeves and long black hair spread over dark blue bedding, making the bare hands and feet look pale as paper. A forehead band set with red agate and turquoise circled the person’s head. Strange patterns had been painted across the face with colored oils and gold powder, obscuring the original appearance so thoroughly that even the person’s sex was difficult to determine. Yet there was no question that the figure was extraordinarily beautiful, possessing a seductive quality that seemed neither mortal nor entirely human.

Helan Zhenjia introduced him without changing expression. “This is the True Spirit who will undergo Guidance and dual cultivation with Young Master. His name is A’Lin. He was born unable to speak and is a pure Innate Spirit, greatly beneficial to cultivation.”

Qingtie stared without blinking at the pale True Spirit, his expression dazed. He looked either captivated or as though he had discovered some strange creature he had never seen before.

Gold-threaded curtains and splendid robes filled the chamber with colors so opulent they almost hurt the eyes, yet those beautiful eyes alone held a lifeless emptiness, as though the heart behind them had already turned to ash.

Qingtie’s shock and wavering were obvious to Helan Zhenjia, who knew the matter was already half accomplished. He prompted at the proper moment, “Please remove your clothing, sit upon the lotus platform, and follow me in reciting the incantation. Regulate your breathing, enter meditation, and contemplate the image of the Buddha.”

The heavy fragrance made one drowsy. Qingtie clutched his collar and leaned closer to inspect A’Lin. The moment their eyes met, he suddenly recoiled in horror, retreating several steps and hiding behind Helan Zhenjia as he pointed toward the platform with a trembling hand. “H-he—he—!”

Even A’Lin blinked at the sudden outburst. Helan Zhenjia suppressed his irritation. “What now?”

Qingtie cried despairingly, “I saw an Adam’s apple! He’s a man!”

Helan Zhenjia: “…”

Had this boy not been born to such a powerful family, Helan Zhenjia would already have twisted off his head and used it as a ladle. Mustering every scrap of patience, he resisted the urge to kick him and coaxed gently, “Did I not say just now? Physical form is illusion. The distinction between male and female is likewise—” As he spoke, he lightly pushed Qingtie’s arm. The moment his hand touched the boy’s sleeve, however, his wrist was abruptly seized, and the rest of the sentence died in his throat.

Helan Zhenjia knew martial arts and had therefore dared dismiss his attendants, but Qingtie moved far too quickly. In a flash he struck several acupoints on Helan Zhenjia’s chest, then followed with a chop to the side of his neck. Helan Zhenjia did not even have time to react before collapsing silently to the floor.

A’Lin lay upon the platform and witnessed the entire swift, soundless attack. Shock surged through him. Had he been able to move or make a sound, he might already have screamed and fled.

This was no useless pampered young master. He was most likely an assassin in disguise who had infiltrated the main altar to kill Helan Zhenjia. Yet judging by his apparent age, he was about the same age as A’Lin—far too young. No wonder Helan Zhenjia had been careless. Who would have expected a boy like this to suddenly reveal lethal fangs?

The young “assassin” turned around. The awkwardness and naïveté from before had fallen away from him like a shed skin, exposing the predator underneath.

Faint noises came from outside the doorway—muffled groans and the dull sounds of bodies hitting the ground. A’Lin saw the young assassin glance toward the entrance. Moments later, a second young man, slightly older and dressed in fine clothes, dragged the unconscious Nayan Kun and two guards inside.

A’Lin’s heart began to race. There’s another one?

The second young man met his fixed gaze and lifted an eyebrow. “This one?”

Compared with the younger assassin, this man seemed more restrained and did not display such obvious killing intent, but A’Lin nevertheless felt a chill the moment he saw him, his entire body tightening instinctively.

The question seemed abrupt and contextless, but its meaning could hardly have been clearer. A’Lin was the sole witness to their assassination. If they did not kill him now, were they planning to keep him alive for the New Year?

“An innocent, pitiful person.” Qingtie understood perfectly but had no intention of obeying. “He’s mute. He can’t tell anyone anything. There’s no need to kill him.”

Baitie said, “If you leave him alive here, the Ten Aspects Sect will kill him once they find him again—possibly even more miserably.”

At last, hesitation appeared on the young assassin’s face. He glanced toward A’Lin without speaking or moving, evidently weighing the consequences. He did not want to kill an innocent person, but if he left A’Lin here and the boy died because of them anyway, the outcome would hardly be different.

But that was enough.

They had killed Helan Zhenjia. In a sense, that alone had already avenged A’Lin. The older young man was right: they could not reasonably risk everything to rescue a burden. Since A’Lin apparently could not escape this fate, it would be better to die cleanly at the young assassin’s hands than remain trapped within the Ten Aspects Sect and suffer inhuman torment. That way both sides could have peace of mind, and A’Lin would bear them no resentment.

During his captivity at the main altar, A’Lin had attempted suicide several times, and his desire to live had already grown very faint. Faced now with such a clean and dignified opportunity to die, he actually felt relieved. Unable to express his wishes directly, he simply met the young assassin’s gaze and calmly closed his eyes.

Darkness accepted him like deep, still water.

People said that one’s life flashed before one’s eyes at the moment of death, yet A’Lin’s mind was completely blank. Looking back, there seemed to be nothing he absolutely could not let go of and nothing he clung to so fiercely that he could not bear to die.

So be it. Let it end here.

Yet the hand he expected to crush his throat never came. Instead, someone began fumbling rather clumsily with his clothing. The sash, already loosely tied, was tugged open.

A’Lin’s eyes flew wide. He glared at the young man in astonishment, but the other showed not the slightest restraint. He pulled open A’Lin’s robe, turned him over, stripped away the blood-red garment in a few swift movements, then peeled an entire set of clothes from one of the guards and somewhat clumsily dressed A’Lin in them.

A’Lin: “…”

Baitie raised an eyebrow and kindly asked the question that was nearly bursting out of A’Lin. “What are you doing?”

“He seems to have been drugged. Can it be counteracted?”

Qingtie did not even look up as he busied himself fastening the belt. A’Lin lacked even the strength to sit upright and lay limply in Qingtie’s arms like an oversized doll. “I’ll take him outside. Once the main altar is thrown into chaos and no one is paying attention, he can find a way to escape on his own.”

Baitie reached over, his warm, dry fingers touching lightly to A’Lin’s pulse. Then he crouched beside Nayan Kun, searched him, pulled a jade-colored medicine bottle from his waist pouch, and tossed it to Qingtie.

Qingtie’s hands were cooler and more slender. He uncorked the bottle, pinched A’Lin’s cheeks until his mouth opened, poured in some powdered medicine, then used a bowl of water—wherever Baitie had found it—to help him swallow.

Baitie pressed several points on A’Lin’s back. A warm current spread through his limbs, easing the numbness, although his body remained sluggish and difficult to control.

“Bright Mirror Stand affects ordinary people especially strongly. With the antidote, you should recover in about one shichen—roughly two hours,” Baitie said. He took Nayan Kun’s dagger, shaved the beard from one unconscious guard, cut loose the man’s hair, and roughly disguised him as A’Lin before tossing him onto the stone platform. “I’ll deal with Helan Zhenjia. You get this one out. If you’re going to hide him, hide him properly. Don’t let them find him easily.”

Seeing Baitie’s calm, decisive manner, A’Lin had expected him to insist upon eliminating the witness. Instead he had chosen to save him. Startled, A’Lin tried to raise his head and take a better look at him, but before he could, Qingtie hoisted him over one shoulder like a sack.

Caught completely unprepared, A’Lin’s stomach slammed against the young man’s bony shoulder, almost making him vomit the medicine he had just swallowed. Baitie said sympathetically, “Young friend, staying alive is what matters. Bear with it.”

Qingtie glanced at him and adjusted A’Lin’s position slightly. “I still need to retrieve something from the Spirit Tower. Take his head and leave first. Don’t wait for me. Once you’re safely away, send the signal. I’ll finish things here. See you in Bihan City.”

The dagger spun lightly through Baitie’s fingers as he walked toward the unconscious Helan Zhenjia. His tone was as calm as if he were about to slice tofu. “See you in Bihan City.”

Qingtie leapt through the rear window with A’Lin on his back. Relying on his light movement technique, he crossed roof after roof and courtyard after courtyard, dropping from walls as soundlessly as a wildcat. Through a half-open side window, he slipped into the Medicine Buddha Hall on the southeastern side of the main altar.

Three sacred figures were enshrined inside: the Medicine Buddha at the center, Sunlight Bodhisattva on the left, and Moonlight Bodhisattva on the right. The statues rose more than a zhang above the ground, surrounded by bright yellow drapes and prayer banners, with circular gilded halos behind them. The space between the wall and the statues was more than sufficient to conceal one person.

Qingtie bent down and carefully set A’Lin behind the Medicine Buddha, propping him against the statue. He stuffed the dagger taken from the guard into A’Lin’s arms and said quietly, “I still have something to do. This is as far as I can take you. Soon there will be chaos outside. Once you regain your strength, find your own way out.”

A’Lin fought through his dizziness and nodded. He looked up at Qingtie in silence, wanting to ask his name—or at least see his real face—but his limbs remained weak and he could make no sound. Qingtie, believing he had arranged matters well enough, saw no reason they should ever meet again. He stepped back, leapt down from the platform, and vanished soundlessly into the darkness of the hall.