Chapter 186: One Hundred and Ninety-Three: Even the Avīci Hell Possesses Vast Righteous Qi

One Hundred and Ninety-Three: Even the Avīci Hell Possesses Vast Righteous Qi

On the sluice gate, the number of people grew fewer.

Below the gate, more and more people filled the water.

Among the crowd, strong young men continually stepped forward, silently following the backs of those ahead, leaping off the dam.

The semi-circular seepage spot, previously shattered by the earlier waves, gradually filled again.

On the dam, only women, children, the elderly, and officials or villagers who could not swim remained.

Below the dam, those who had jumped into the water clustered together to resist the raging current.

Some men gripped wooden stakes or bamboo poles still anchored beneath the surface; others pressed against the dam wall to avoid being swept away.

Finally, the floating crowd formed layer upon layer of human barriers—inner rings and outer rings stacked together—creating a relatively stable equilibrium.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong, the first to jump in, floated at the very front of the human wall.

The purpose of this human wall was not to block the water, but to slow its impact.

The crowd used their bodies as sandbags to suppress the flow and seal the seepage cracks in the dam wall.

To buy time for the dam to withstand its impending collapse.

A few terrified priests from the Long Wang Temple still remained on the dam; Magistrate Ouyang Rong's public beheading of the middle-aged priest had shattered

their psychological defenses.

But Magistrate Ouyang Rong had no time to deal with them.

Yet now, the villagers left on the dam spontaneously surged forward, seized the several charlatan priests, and hurled them into the water, regardless of whether they could swim.

If you insist there's a Long Wang, then go find him—see if he'll manifest to save you. It can't be that only the brave stand at the front, filling the flood with their flesh, while you cower shamefully behind…

Magistrate Ouyang Rong did not know of these villagers' simple emotions; like most present, he was tense, watching the dam without pause.

He saw that the water surging through the dam's cracks had stopped churning and spewing sand.

It seemed the human walls had obstructed the flow, slowing the current.

The seepage was suppressed.

On the dam and below, everyone exhaled in relief.

Yet Magistrate Ouyang Rong, floating on the water, knew clearly: this was only a temporary reprieve. As long as the rain over Lady Yunmeng Marsh continued, the crisis was not over…

Time passed second by second.

Below the dam, the human wall led by Magistrate Ouyang Rong had been submerged for half a day.

Rain fell incessantly; the waters of Lady Yunmeng Marsh surged and ebbed irregularly.

Each surging wave crashed heavily against the human wall before the dam's cracks.

Occasionally, a brave villager could no longer hold on, breaking from the wall, nearly sinking or being swept away—but each time, others pulled him back onto the dam, where villagers rushed to tend to him.

Those still in the water had bodies swollen and whitened by prolonged immersion, wrinkled like the white bread Magistrate Ouyang Rong had eaten in his past life.

Sometimes a civilian volunteer would collapse, break from the human wall, nearly sink beneath the water or be swept away by a wave, but all were eventually pulled back onto the dam, where the villagers rushed to tend to them.

On the dam, Ye Ye Weilai knelt at the water's edge, clutching her blade tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. Every so often, she called out Magistrate Ouyang Rong's name in worry, to confirm he was still there.

Behind her, among the crowd delivering food and tending to the wounded, a slender, delicate girl stood silently.

Sister Xiuniang stared fixedly at the sky above the human wall led by Magistrate Ouyang Rong.

Though the sky over Lady Yunmeng Marsh—including Di Gong Dam—was now thick with dark clouds, blotting out sun and night alike,

Sister Xiuniang still gazed unblinkingly upward, her face blank with wonder, as if she beheld some magnificent, awe-inspiring sight.

The clear, mute girl from Lady Yunmeng Marsh opened her mouth slightly, letting out a soft "Ah… ah…"

Aside from her congenital defect, who says my Tán láng isn't suited for Qi Refining?

Yet the next instant, Sister Xiuniang's brows suddenly furrowed as she looked up.

She glanced left and right—then vanished from her spot, returning three breaths later.

No one saw her movement.

The quiet, gentle little disciple, always so well-behaved in her senior sisters' eyes, now wore a look of puzzled concern on her delicate face.

Deep in her clear, dark eyes, there was also… a trace of anger.

In an instant, all waves over half a foot high within a hundred meters of Magistrate Ouyang Rong, floating on the water, shattered into mist.

The wood and debris swept up by the waves were cleanly sliced into paper-thin shreds by some invisible sharpness, no longer threatening her Tán láng.

But these strange phenomena were entirely obscured by the dense, low-visibility fog blanketing Lady Yunmeng Marsh.

Those forming the human wall at the seepage could only sense that the fog far off seemed stirred by some violent wind—but it still refused to disperse.

Moreover, Magistrate Ouyang Rong and the others had briefly panicked, fearing another surge was coming—until the waves rolling from the distant fog arrived unusually calm, carrying only white foam and harmless wood shavings, leaving them bewildered.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong and the others forming the human wall at the seepage point could only discern that the mist far off seemed stirred by some furious wind, yet still could not be dispersed.

A little kitchen maid named Sister Xiuniang was, unusually, furious… Even when Magistrate Ouyang Rong met secretly with that Chenjun Xie disciple at night, embracing and kissing, she had never been this angry.

Who is stealthily stealing my Tán láng's "qi"?

The mute kitchen maid, nicknamed Sister Xiuniang, was unusually angry………… Even when Magistrate Ouyang Rong met the Chenjun Xie girl at night and kissed her openly, she had never been this angry.

Streets stood empty.

Peng Lang Ferry was in ruins, not a single boat left.

Looking out, the banks of Butterfly Creek's west side—once lined with sword furnaces—were now cold and dark, the craftsmen vanished entirely.

Little Gu Mountain, in contrast to the crowded, noisy Liu family mansion atop it, held a quiet, secluded meadow halfway up its slope.

An old swordsmith stood alone on the meadow, holding a wine jug.

Raindrops soaked his gray hemp robe, darkening its color.

The old man paid no heed, raising the jug to his lips, occasionally glancing south.

His eyes ignored the abandoned Longcheng County and the distant, bustling Mount Mount Dagu, fixed instead on the direction of the Nyü Nü Gorge upstream of Butterfly Creek.

Behind the rain-soaked swordsmith stood a furnace long extinguished, its door wide open.

Wind and rain poured into the furnace chamber.

Inside stood a circular iron furnace, its door swinging open with a shrill, rust-scraping creak from the howling storm.

The furnace's interior remained empty, as before.

Outside, on the meadow, the old swordsmith gazed south, sipping wine intermittently.

At one moment, he set down the jug and nodded gently:

"Little one, you've drunk your fill—more greedy than this old man."

"Hah, is this the first time a lifetime of Buddhist vegetarianism breaks its vow, finally tasting meat and wine?"

Speaking of which, since you like this qi so much, what name should I give you…? It must be fitting… burp… First sword: Longsheng Yao. Second: Lulu, later renamed Chidi. Third: Opposite the second…

"All good names—but too refined, clearly meant for kings and generals…"

"Once, I named one Hanshi—but Hanshi still wasn't poor enough…"

"By the way, since you're so fond of consuming this qi, what name should I give you………… It must be proper………… burp………… The first sword, called Longsheng Yao………… The second sword, called Lu Lu, later renamed Chi Di………… The third sword, opposite the second…………"

The old swordsmith murmured low, scratching his head.

It troubled him more than sowing discord among the three Liu brothers.

Then again, among common folk, when an old man finally has a child late in life, he agonizes over the name, exhausting every ounce of his wisdom.

Especially for an old craftsman who waited half a lifetime for a sword?

Mount Mount Dagu.

From foot to peak, heads thronged, crowds thick.

Yet in one underground chamber, true to its name, it remained a quiet sanctuary amid the noise of Mount Mount Dagu.

Though abandoned and open to the sky via a well-hole above,

even now with rain pouring outside, no water seeped in.

The well's mouth was enclosed by stone railings within a pavilion.

Yet inside the chamber, a gaunt young monk stood directly beneath the well, gazing upward.

He wore a tattered cassock, filthy, with crumbs of pastry clinging to his lips—the gift from that night's visit by the slender mute girl.

The monk, hiding in this sanctuary, ate only one piece daily, savoring it slowly.

He was quite frugal.

As for the vegetarian meals brought daily by his junior disciples Xiufa and Brother Xiudu, he disliked them—he preferred the mystical, spirit-filled pastries made by the mute girl.

If you've reached this sanctuary, you ought to eat something good, right? After all, you're no longer trapped in that damned Avīci Hell.

Oh, I forgot to mention—his dharma name was Master Xiuzhen; a young county magistrate once joked he was "Tian Bu Dai Master."

Though others laughed at him, only "Tian Bu Dai Master" truly knew: the outside world was truly Avīci Hell.

This place was the Lotus Pure Land.

Though no rain fell from the well above, the monk Master Xiuzhen, standing beneath it, leaned back slightly, as if avoiding something, recoiling in dread.

He tilted his head upward, mouth agape, staring into the well.

The young monk seemed lost in contemplation, gazing intently.

"Huh? This is Avīci Hell—how can there be qi, piercing the heavens like a sword? Strange, strange…"

Master Xiuzhen shook his head, murmuring in wonder.

He tilted his head and opened his mouth, staring at the well opening.

The young monk seemed to be straining his gaze at something, lost in thought.

"Huh? This is the Avīci Hell—how can there be qi, like a sword piercing straight into the clouds? Strange, strange…"

Xiu Zhen shook her head, clicking her tongue in wonder.

He stood there gazing around for a while; at some moment, his filthy face suddenly shifted from confusion to shock.

Xiu Zhen twisted his emaciated frame and sprinted toward the edge of the underground chamber, arriving before the mural of "King Kuaimu Offering His Eyes."

He leaned his bald head close, studying the mural.

"Not this one."

Xiu Zhen shook his head in disappointment but did not pause; he ran along the wall at the chamber's edge toward another mural and leaned in to examine it.

"Not this one… not this one either… hey! This one!"

Xiu Zhen had passed three Buddhist Jataka murals—"King Kuaimu Offering His Eyes," "King Shibi Cutting His Flesh to Trade for Pigeons," and "King Yueguang Giving His Head"—each time shaking his head in despair, but finally, he came to a halt before the last Jataka mural on the eastern wall!

Prince Sattva Sacrificing His Body to Feed the Tigers.

He suddenly pointed at the Buddha in the dark wall, bowing willingly into the tiger's maw, and burst into laughter:

"This is it! Exactly the same! Fascinating, fascinating!"

In the empty underground chamber, the mad monk danced and leapt, running back and forth between the center and the eastern Jataka mural.

As if comparing something, confirming something, discovering something.

At some moment, Xiu Zhen's expression turned solemn; he stood beneath the well's mouth, hands clasped in confusion:

"Amitabha Buddha—yet outside, in the Avici Hell, how can there be qi? Where, then, is the Lotus Pure Land…?" The questioning voice of the Qi-Seeing Monk echoed, but the surroundings remained silent, with no reply.

This eerie scene remained unknown to all.

Lady Yunmeng Marsh, rain unceasing.

Beneath the Di Gong Dam, the churning waters.

The human wall remained.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong and Liu Ashan and the others could no longer tell what time it was, or how long they had endured.

They only remembered that the people around them had been replaced again and again—those who fainted or starved into unconsciousness were carried up, then woke and came back down again.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong floated in the water, his expression dazed, feeling only that the world around him was swallowed by water; above the dam, every face was blurred, faintly resembling Ye Ye Weilai's…

Until, at some moment, another thunderous crash came from afar.

Just like before—another mudslide had slammed into the waters of Lady Yunmeng Marsh.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong held his breath.

Yet the next second, before the first furious wave, sweeping up trees, reached Magistrate Ouyang Rong's human wall, a brilliant white sword-light slashed across the dam.

The first furious wave shattered into fragments.

The second did the same.

The third did too…

Any number that came, were shattered in equal number.

Has Little Sister returned?

Magistrate Ouyang Rong froze.

In his daze, he silently murmured, trying to lift his head and gaze up at the dam—but through the waves, his vision remained blurred.

The effort of straining upward seemed to drain his last strength; suddenly, dizziness overwhelmed him. He could no longer hold on.

As his consciousness faded, he seemed to hear many voices calling beside his ears.

"The Magistrate has fainted! Quickly, carry him up!"

"Tianlang…"

"Ah…"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong faintly heard two different voices—one belonging to his own Bai Mao maid, the other unfamiliar yet strangely familiar, though no matter how hard he tried, he could not recall it.

Finally, those voices grew distant.

Until they were swallowed by a dream as gentle as a caress.