Why is the Demon Venerable Like That? - Chapter 22

“I have only seen it in the classics,” Lu Yuan said eerily, a trace of regret lingering in his eyes. “Body as Bodhi, heart like glaze.”

In Lu Yuan’s mind, the image of Master Liaowu from his past life was nothing more than an old man who seemed profound and mysterious, occasionally smiling without speaking, and fond of spouting empty theories.

The last time he met Master Liaowu was not at Jizhao Temple.

Lu Yuan had just finished slaying a massive sea beast and was returning to Jiucang City when he passed a tea stall and happened to encounter Master Liaowu, who was stopping there.

Master Liaowu nodded and smiled at him. “Patron Lu, it has been a long time.”

Lu Yuan offered a bitter smile and sat down slowly, joking. “Master, why don’t you calculate my fortune to see when I can finally retire to my hometown?”

“Has Sect Leader Lu been injured?” Master Liaowu recited a low Buddhist chant and reached out to check his pulse; his expression changed. “Too much worrying, body is weak, and spirit is exhausted. You should rest properly; you should not be running around anymore.”

Lu Yuan replied nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, officials still have leave, and they can retire when they reach a certain age. As for me, I suppose one could say I am begging for my bones.”

He flicked the lid of his tea cup listlessly, his knuckles as pale as the white glazed porcelain.

Master Liaowu said. “Haotian is not the Immortal Alliance of Patron Lu alone; there are other cultivators.”

Lu Yuan curled his lips, smiling very faintly. “Are you referring to the director of the Shuangjian Publishing House? If he does not defect on the battlefield, I would consider him to have backbone. Or perhaps that old man from Fengchi Sect who stumbles when he walks? His breathing sounds like a bellows. As for the Pavilion Master of Fengcong Pavilion, he lives in a drunken stupor every day; he will die in his bed sooner or later.”

He knew Master Liaowu was neither interested in nor understood these convoluted affairs, and he did not fear that this tight-lipped old monk would go out spreading rumors.

After all, no one dared to truly challenge him head-on.

Master Liaowu simply composed himself and said. “Patron Lu is truly a kind-hearted person. But if you take a matter too seriously, it is not necessarily a good thing.”

Lu Yuan’s hand holding the tea cup paused. “What are you referring to?”

“Responsibility.” Master Liaowu pressed his palms together. “When the patron was tasting tea and discussing the Dao in my Jizhao Temple, although you looked relaxed and carefree, there was still worry lingering between your brows.”

Master Liaowu’s voice was low, yet it sounded like a bell. “When necessary, one must also employ thunderous means. I know you are not a person who enjoys idle chatter. How to gather a group of different-minded people together—perhaps that is another path for you to take.”

A cold, murderous intent flashed in Lu Yuan’s eyes; the hot tea in his cup instantly turned into ice shards. He whispered. “Eating in idleness and shirking responsibilities. I originally thought they were just one or two locusts, but when the locusts hold high positions, you cannot do anything about them.”

Master Liaowu’s eyes were like still water. His smile was indifferent, and when looked at for a long time, he resembled a loving elder at home. “If you do not cut away rotting flesh, it easily becomes a sore. You must know when to take and when to sacrifice.”

Lu Yuan shook his head. “In the Western Hu region, there is a cow called the Ruzhi Cow; today you cut its flesh, and tomorrow the flesh grows back again.” He tapped the table slowly, beat by beat, like a timer for his thoughts. “Perhaps Haotian needs to be reshuffled.”

The tea cup before Liaowu was empty. He only smiled. “If you have time later, come back to Jizhao Temple to chat, and I will prepare a welcoming feast for you.”

Later…

Not long after, he probably died at the hands of Ling Chuandu.

Lu Yuan thought in silence.

And Master Liaowu was currently in a state where life and death were unknown.

Below the master’s waist, his body had turned into a massive, inverted tree canopy, while he himself was hidden within the trunk of a towering tree beneath Jizhao Temple.

“Bodhi Body…” Ling Chuandu was burned by some candle wax dripping from the side before he spoke in a daze. “Master Liaowu has gone to such lengths.”

This is a secret Buddhist cultivation method, which can only be performed by those whose state of mind is as clear and flawless as glaze.

After using it, the caster gradually transforms into a Bodhi tree, protecting those within the range of their cultivation from being invaded by evil spirits or bewitched by demons.

Once their spiritual power is exhausted, the caster becomes an ordinary Bodhi tree. Regardless of what happened during their lifetime, they eventually transform into a tree without consciousness, through wind and rain alike.

Master Liaowu can only be forever imprisoned in this realm of Jizhao Temple.

If someone remembers him and hangs prayer ribbons on these lush, dense branches, perhaps when a breeze passes by, there will be red cloth strips dancing and soaring.

“When I found him last night, he was still able to speak,” Lu Yuan plucked a long, slender black object from the corpse of an Owl-man.

He heard the screeching of birds outside the house. Those monsters were hovering on the roof of this side hall, rustling the tiles and making one’s scalp tingle.

Ling Chuandu took a closer look and realized that what Lu Yuan was holding was a long-handled bronze lamp stand.

It had only changed color because it was covered in the filthy, black blood of the Owl-man.

Lu Yuan weighed the lamp stand in his hand. “It seems it is dinner time for these monsters.”

The two people being treated as dinner looked at each other. Ling Chuandu asked. “Did Master Liaowu tell you anything?”

Lu Yuan nodded and said seriously. “He was chanting the Ksitigarbha Sutra, as if everything in the world were empty.”

Ling Chuandu: “…”

How is that any different from telling him nothing?!

Lu Yuan carried the bronze lamp stand and walked to the area directly beneath the roof. He looked up at the pine rafters, which were trembling slightly, shedding long-accumulated dust. “When I arrived here last night, he was almost unable to speak, but Master Liaowu still entrusted me with a task.”

Last night at the hour of the Rat.

Lu Yuan encountered the young novice monk in front of Master Liaowu’s side hall.

After the chanting stopped, an aged voice came from inside. “Is that little friend Lu?”

Lu Yuan did not answer, merely observing the novice’s expression. He found the boy looking at him with a mix of ease and bewilderment, then looking at the closed doors of the side hall—completely at a loss.

“Patron Lu… what are you waiting for?” The novice was stunned by Lu Yuan’s silent behavior.

Meeting someone behaving strangely at the door of an abandoned side hall in the middle of the night was just like a female demon or goblin from a storybook.

In his mind, he flashed through the Rakshasa ghosts his master and senior brothers had told him about; the males were extremely ugly, while the females were stunningly beautiful.

Although the female patron before him could not be called stunning, her temperament was like clear frost under the moon, with fragmented moonlight slowly scattering across her face.

Like a goddess or a fairy.

Lu Yuan smiled at the novice.

The novice was dazzled by his smile, only to see Lu Yuan turn and push open the doors of this uninhabited side hall.

“Hey! Patron, you!” Before the novice could stop him, Lu Yuan had already stepped inside. “This place hasn’t been lived in for a long time; it’s probably very dusty!”

He chased after Lu Yuan inside. It was pitch black, and even though it was the end of summer, he still shivered.

Lu Yuan asked in a low voice. “Can you not see?”

The novice’s heart jumped. He saw nothing, except for Lu Yuan in the shadows and the smell of dust from a place that had not seen people for a long time.

It’s over, it’s over, it’s over! This Patron Lu must be some kind of monster!

She tricked him in here to eat him!

The novice wanted to cry. His master was right: women down the mountain are tigers; they eat people!

He said with a sobbing tone. “I see nothing.”

You don’t see it either, you see nothing at all. The novice covered his mouth and stared at him.

Lu Yuan’s eyelids twitched. Had he scared a child into crying?

But at least he was certain that the people in the Partridge Dream were a reflection of the reality of that time; the Jizhao Temple of that year really did not see this side hall—it was as if it had been deliberately erased from this place.

“So I cast the Heart-Cleansing Mantra,” Lu Yuan gripped the only thing he could call a weapon. “To be precise, many Heart-Cleansing Mantras. That little monk first saw the candlelight in the hall, and finally saw Master Liaowu, who had already turned to wood. Funny to say, this child had only been in the temple for a very short time and had never truly met the abbot.”

“After Liaowu saw me, he recognized my true self,” Lu Yuan’s lips lifted slightly, but with a bitter taste. “This old charlatan still has some ability.”

“It’s just that he can no longer be considered a living person, so the Partridge Dream has not yet completely torn apart.”

The tiles above their heads made a crisp sound; the Owl-men were already starting to move restlessly.

Lu Yuan wiped the slippery blood from his weapon and looked at Ling Chuandu, helpless. “Shall we find a way out first and then talk slowly?”

Finally, Lu Yuan sighed. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

His eyes were shining, containing an openness that Ling Chuandu was familiar with—a sense of concession.

He looked just like someone.

Ling Chuandu felt as if his chest had been heavily crushed. That lingering vine wrapped around his heart once again, making his breathing difficult.

Suddenly, his throat felt very itchy, and he dared not look at Lu Yuan anymore. His tone was very calm, sounding both like a threat and a murmur to himself. “If you drag me down, I will…”

…leave you as fodder for the evil spirits.

Lu Yuan did not know what he was thinking, only feeling that the other was distracted. In the same way he had in the past, he patted Ling Chuandu’s shoulder, and as he brushed past him, he leaned close and whispered. “Come back to your senses.”

The warm breath brushed past Ling Chuandu’s ear almost instantly, and blood gathered under his skin. What was even more hateful was that Lu Yuan, seeing his expression, even hesitated before reaching out to touch his face.

The temperature of those fingertips was enough to burn him.

Ling Chuandu was so stimulated he wanted to tremble, but he held it back.

He said irritably. “What are you doing!”

Ling Chuandu’s sword-like brows were tightly knit, but the corners of his eyes were a thin red, and his voice was hoarse, which meant he lacked any deterrence.

Lu Yuan was startled by his reaction. “You looked uncomfortable, so I wanted to see if the death energy Lu Mingzhu left on you was still there.”

Ling Chuandu raged. “Then why are you moving your hands and feet like that! Is that how Fengchi Sect taught you?”

He slapped Lu Yuan’s hand away in a panicked motion, as if he found it extremely repulsive, and retreated several steps to distance himself from Lu Yuan.

What kind of madness is this?

Lu Yuan was speechless; his temper was actually not that good. After being inexplicably snapped at by Ling Chuandu several times in the Partridge Dream, coupled with having seen the Realm of Life and Death, his patience had reached its limit.

He sneered. “I don’t know how Fengchi Sect taught me, but I have heard that when Ling Zunzhu was young, he studied in Jiucang City. I presume your master once told you how to probe for a spiritual core.”

Lu Yuan approached a few steps, the scent of blood mixed with a strange woody fragrance, firmly trapping Ling Chuandu in his territory.

Ling Chuandu could already see a small mole next to his nose, and his heart was in total chaos.

…Why is he the same as Lu Lingyue? That mole is in exactly the same position.

“The first way is to enter the spiritual platform,” Lu Yuan’s icy gaze swept across Ling Chuandu’s face, then reached out and pressed against his chest, sliding down slowly.

Ling Chuandu grabbed Lu Yuan’s hand abruptly. His throat moved, but he said nothing.

Lu Yuan’s expression was clear. Watching Ling Chuandu’s personal chaos, he mocked. “The second way is to enter the inner treasury.”