Chapter 868: The Supreme Heaven Really Did Reach the Eastern Deva Body Continent

The fury of wind and towering waves is a force of nature no human strength can resist.

So even though Helian Hailong had foreseen the danger of a possible collision, five of the six remaining ships were still smashed directly against the steep cliffs along the shore.

When Helian Hailong slowly came to, he found himself lying on a flat boulder, completely naked, sprawled across this wilderness in a most primitive posture.

The next moment, Helian Hailong heard a disappointed sigh, and then it seemed someone who had been crouching beside him stood up and walked away.

And that sigh did not sound like surprise at his awakening, but rather like disappointment.

That was close! Helian Hailong could not help shuddering. If his senses were not mistaken, the person crouching beside him just now had definitely been Zhao Siwan.

Hmm, if he had woken up any later, he probably would have been served up on the table!

"Namo Great Compassionate Great Dharma King!" A resounding Buddhist invocation rang out, and the gaunt, wizened Master Cixian stepped onto the boulder where Helian Hailong lay.

It seemed his faith had already begun drifting toward the Six Dharma Sect. Ever since he had first chanted the Great Compassion Dharma King's Heart-Calming Mantra on the ship, Master Cixian seemed to have let go of everything, and could now replace the Buddha in his invocations with the Dharma King or the Supreme Heaven without any burden.

"Master, have we found the Eastern Deva Body Continent? Have we found the Buddha Land?"

Helian Hailong propped himself up on one elbow, half-lying on the rock, and looked at Master Cixian in a most awkward posture as he asked.

"Helian Danyue, although we have not yet seen the four supreme treasures spoken of by the Supreme Heaven, this poor monk can tell you, tell all of you: the Eastern Deva Body Continent, the Buddha Land the Buddha left for the people of the Middle Kingdom, is right beneath our feet!"

Master Cixian's voice drew everyone's attention. Even Zhao Siwan, who had just sighed and walked away, came back over. He stared at Master Cixian with his triangular eyes and asked in a sour tone:

"How can the Master be certain? I see this place is desolate and uninhabited. What kind of Buddha Land is this? It looks more like the Hundred Thousand Mountains of Lingnan."

Master Cixian did not argue. He smiled faintly, chanted another invocation, and then began unwrapping the white silk cloth wound around his head.

Only then did Helian Hailong notice that Master Cixian's appearance was rather strange.

But suddenly, Helian Hailong's pupils dilated sharply. He pointed at Master Cixian, both shocked and delighted, too overcome with emotion to speak.

"This... this..." Even a savage madman like Zhao Siwan felt a chill run through his body and could not speak at that moment.

Because when Master Cixian unwound the white silk cloth from his head, what appeared was not the tangled beard and hair they had seen on the ship, but a head of shallow natural curls, like a pinecone covered in pine nuts.

And this head of shallow, naturally curled hair was one of the most distinctive features of the Buddha.

Add to that the fact that many people on the ship had personally watched Master Cixian go from being at death's door to suddenly brimming with vitality.

This double shock made people all the more inclined to think of gods and Buddhas, and so they grew especially excited and fervent.

But Master Cixian was even more fervent than they were, because this was not him putting on an act — a strange and ineffable miracle had truly occurred upon his body.

"This poor monk has had his head shaved since childhood, unchanged for fifty-five years. But today, after setting foot upon this Eastern Deva Body Continent, my wisdom hair has regrown and my heart-demons have fled.

This must be the Buddha guiding me, guiding his disciple to find this Eastern Deva Body Continent that nurtured the four Buddhist treasures, and to obtain for the countless common people of the Middle Kingdom the supreme treasures that will end their hunger!"

Master Cixian's most devout follower, his disciple Monk Fayan, pressed his palms together and stepped forward.

Though his robes were tattered, his spirit was extraordinarily stirred. Looking at Master Cixian's pinecone-like hair, his eyes revealed envy and reverence.

"Master has received the Buddha's enlightenment, forming wisdom hair atop his head. If we can find the four Buddhist treasures spoken of by the Supreme Heaven, you will surely attain the fruit of an Arhat. Your disciple congratulates his revered master!"

"Your disciples congratulate the revered master!" Hearing Monk Fayan speak, the remaining hundred or so people immediately offered their devout congratulations.

Those chosen by Master Cixian to take part in the search for the Eastern Deva Body Continent were naturally all devout Buddhists.

Of course — if they were not devout Buddhists, no one would gamble their lives on a few prophecies from Zhang Zhao!

Some were devout believers of the Six Dharma Sect, sworn to find the Eastern Deva Body Continent and the four Buddhist treasures to prove that the Six Dharma Sect was the true school — such as Zhao Hutou, who had just left the Dark Bear Longblade Army at Hanshan and joined the expedition.

Some were Buddhist followers who considered the Six Dharma Sect a heresy and were determined to tear off the mask of the Supreme Heaven worn by Sage Zhang — such as Helian Hailong, who, after settling his family, had directly followed Master Cixian out to sea.

Of course, there were also genuine lunatics. Zhao Siwan, in pursuit of ultimate power, wanted to accomplish a great feat no other warrior dared attempt — or perhaps he wanted to find Buddhist treasures in the legendary Eastern Deva Body Continent to enhance his battle strength.

This genuine lunatic, this madman, had given up becoming one of the sixteen regional lords under Great King Murong Xinzhang of Yan, and had brought over a hundred crazed followers like himself aboard the ships to the Eastern Deva Body Continent, howling with excitement.

Still, even a madman like Zhao Siwan, after enduring the many hardships at sea and now this "miracle," could be called a believer.

At last, the hearts that had been utterly broken by the perils of nature were gathered together and rebuilt by Master Cixian's fervent words. The group that had nearly disbanded regained a measure of spirit.

Once even Zhao Siwan began following orders, Helian Hailong began carrying out his duties as the fleet's naval Commander.

But after gathering everyone together and taking a quick count, even a man like Helian Hailong was nearly in tears.

It was simply too devastating!

When they had set out, there had been eleven great ships, with soldiers, sailors, monks, and scholars from the Dragon Strategy Academy and the Heavenly Works Academy — six hundred and forty-seven people in all.

As of now, there remained one great ship basically intact, two ships that could still be used after repairs, and one hundred and eleven people.

The rest had all been buried in the boundless sea and in the gale of two days before.

Helian Hailong assigned men to gather up all supplies that could still be used, while having the remaining twenty or so sailors and shipwrights repair the vessels as quickly as possible.

Because although they had now reached the Eastern Deva Body Continent, they had no way of knowing what people, beasts, or demons inhabited it, nor where to find supplies. They had to make use of every resource available.

Master Cixian, meanwhile, took his disciple Fayan and the few remaining monks to perform simple rites by the shore, and used a small knife to carve the name and native place of every fallen member onto a large wooden plank.

"Master, it is time for us to set out. Before sunset today, we must find fresh water and food, or we will not be able to hold on." With everything arranged, Helian Hailong sought out Master Cixian and said.

The gale two days before had battered the last six warships until only one remained in passable condition. The little strong liquor left aboard had been drunk yesterday and today, diluted with foul water, and the food had long been gone.

The only things they still possessed were thirty-odd sets of cloth-faced iron armor, several dozen hengdao sabers and long spears, and twenty sealed crossbows.

In the Central Plains, these things could easily be traded for large quantities of supplies, but here they had become useless — even a burden.

Master Cixian thought for a moment, then gritted his teeth and said:

"Forget the damaged warships. Repair only the one that is still in decent shape. As soon as the sail is mended, we will sail south along the coast. We are certain to find a river mouth."

What Master Cixian and Helian Hailong did not know was that they should actually be grateful for yesterday's gale.

Because their current location was near what later generations would call San Francisco in America. The bay Helian Hailong saw not far away would, several centuries later, be home to a landmark structure: the Golden Gate Bridge.

And the fact that they had followed the Japan Current all the way to San Francisco meant they had long since missed the best landing point and had been sailing south with the North Pacific Current.

Had this gale not blown them eastward, they would most likely have continued south with the current, then entered the North Equatorial Current and been carried back toward Japan.

Of course, generally speaking, given the condition of their ships, they could not make it back anyway — and even if the ship could, the crew could not.

"Cows! So many cows! We'll have beef to eat!"

From the distance came Monk Fayan's wild shout. A monk who devoutly practiced asceticism and observed the rule of no food after noon was now salivating profusely at the corners of his mouth.

Everyone looked in the direction of Monk Fayan's shout. No more than two hundred paces away, a massive herd of at least a hundred bulls and cows was migrating forward.

The bullocks paid no mind to these ragged, tattered people, lazily lowing a few times in reply, then ambled on ahead at their leisure.

"Beef! It's been ages since I've had beef." Zhao Siwan let out a low growl, making people suspect he was about to charge over right now, grab a bullock, and gnaw on it madly.

But no one laughed at him now, because all of them were the same — they'd been eating raw fish until they were nearly going insane. And since this land wasn't short of firewood either, with cattle they could have a huge feast. How could they not be excited!

"Big head, short muzzle, short thick neck, large front and small rear, a bit unbalanced in build, shoulders humped high like a camel's hump, black coat similar to the yaks of the Batang Plateau — these are the Eastern Continent wild oxen the Sage spoke of!

The cold wind is blowing now, so it seems winter is nearly here. They must be migrating. Don't kill them yet — follow them. These beasts surely know where there's water."

Helian Hailong had already drawn his hengdao saber, but hearing Zhao Hutou say this, he immediately nodded in agreement.

And even a madman like Zhao Siwan, after seeing the look in Zhao Hutou's eyes, chose to back down.

Because everyone knew that in this fleet, Zhao Hutou was the court's representative placed aboard the ships. This young soldier, retired from the Xuanpi Longblade Corps of the Hanshan Capital's inner garrison, was a genuine, bona fide Embroidered Uniform Guard.

In truth, these people were still underestimating Zhao Hutou. He was far more than just a former squad leader of the Hanshan Capital and now a centurion of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Ten years ago, when Sage Zhang entered Luoyang, the whole city was short of grain, and nine-year-old Zhao Hutou was on the verge of starving to death.

It was Zhang Zhao who called on the noble and high-official households throughout the city to have their wet nurses spare their surplus milk. Zhang Zhao gave up his own breakfast to buy soybeans, boiled soy milk, and made bean-residue rice, keeping over a thousand children alive.

Zhao Hutou was one of them. He had always firmly believed he survived only because he drank the empress's milk, and therefore he was not only a steadfast believer of the Six Laws Sect, but also a loyal minister Zhang Zhao could absolutely trust.

So before departure, Zhang Zhao had him memorize by heart the personally compiled "Record of Flora, Fauna, and Peoples of the Eastern Body Continent," making him the most trusted person in the long-distance voyage fleet.

Sure enough, following this herd of wild oxen, the group soon found a great river flowing on without cease.

Now even Dharma Master Cixian was too stirred to contain himself. Anyone who had drunk strong liquor mixed with foul water for a hundred days would be stirred at the sight of such a great freshwater river.

They drank their fill beautifully, and many even jumped into the river to wash the dust from their bodies at will. Afterward, the dumb, dazed wild oxen began to bellow in misery.

Great chunks of stewed beef, big skewers of roast beef — though there were only two seasonings, salt and sauce, everyone crammed every last bit of meat into their mouths with all their might, until they could eat no more.

This counted as the only meal besides fish they had eaten in all these dozens of days.

Zhao Siwan closed his eyes and lay down on the ground wrapped directly in a suit of padded armor.

He had been assigned by Zhao Hutou to go out as a scout. The long sea voyage had damaged nearly everyone's health, and even now more than a dozen men were still dizzy and unable to walk because they had not adjusted to land.

Only Zhao Siwan was completely unaffected. He adapted as if the sea were nothing but a bathtub, as if he had been born on this continent all along.

And for Zhao Hutou, young as he was, to be able to assign a madman like him to a task, he naturally had authorization.

There were two who authorized it, both people Zhao Siwan would never dare offend in his life.

One was Zhao Kuangzan, who had treated him like a brother but whom he had betrayed. The influence of decades of hierarchy between superior and inferior was not so easily removed.

The second, naturally, was Zhang Zhao, Sage Zhang. Because in Zhao Siwan's heart, Zhang Zhao was no Son of Heaven, but a genuine god.

'Crack, crack!' The faint sound of breaking branches came. Zhao Siwan slowly narrowed his eyes, his hand slowly reaching beneath his body, where he had placed a bone mace.

The sounds grew denser, the snapping of branches clearer and clearer, yet Zhao Siwan did not so much as move his body.

He was sleeping behind a large boulder. Unless the newcomers came around the boulder, it would be hard for them to see him.

Moreover, it was still a little while until the exact hour of mao (six in the morning). The surroundings were pitch black — not a good time to launch a surprise attack. They would surely wait a while longer, until the sky began to brighten, before striking.

As for whether it might be wild beasts coming?

That was naturally impossible. Wild beasts' footfalls would not be so heavy, and no wild beast would dare casually attack a party of over a hundred men with campfires burning. The combat power of the terrifying upright ape is no joke.

Sure enough, the sounds went from a few at first to relatively dense later, and now had stopped completely. Only then did Zhao Siwan unhurriedly tug a rope beneath his body.

The other end of the rope was tied beneath Zhao Hutou. Almost instantly, he was jolted awake.

Zhao Hutou abruptly gripped the iron rod inside the bell to stop it from ringing further, then with a light roll, pretended to unconsciously kick over a woodpile set up beside him.

The air suddenly turned stifling in this autumn dawn. The twenty or thirty men in the party still able to fight immediately and slowly made their battle preparations.

At the exact hour of mao, some strange bird cried out softly a few times, and the fine, fragmented snapping of branches suddenly rang out again.

Zhao Siwan immediately pulled a thick pear-blossom firework from his body, gave it a light scrape, and a ghastly green flame shot violently into the sky, illuminating both sky and forest in an instant.

People — dense, packed people, at least several hundred of them. They wore leather robes of various colors and held crudely made wooden bows and wooden spears in their hands.

The moment the firework shot into the sky, Zhao Siwan had already burst out from behind the boulder, bone mace and small round shield in hand.

The people in the forest seemed so frightened by the sight of this one man charging at several hundred that their brains froze for a second or two, but then they reacted, and arrows drifted down like rain.

Drifted down, indeed — because these Indians were using sinew-wood bows.

This was a crude recurve shortbow, with mediocre range, mediocre power, and armor-piercing ability basically equal to none.

Arrows clattered down, 'drifting' all over Zhao Siwan's body. Unsurprisingly, most of the arrows did not even qualify to stick in Zhao Siwan's padded armor.

And in the interval of these two volleys of bowfire, Zhao Siwan pushed his speed to the maximum. Wearing heavy armor of over thirty jin, his speed was not affected in the slightest.

Slamming headlong into the crowd of savages, Zhao Siwan immediately activated Musou mode.

As a yabing officer born for battle, Zhao Siwan had understood the moment the enemy's arrows came flying that these people's armaments were extremely poor.

Because whether in battle or hunting, projectile weapons are always the optimal choice for humans. A tribe that cannot even make bows and arrows properly cannot possibly possess strong armaments.

The man-eating demon had evolved once again!

If before, in the land of the Wa, Zhao Siwan had fought padded armor against hanging armor and iron swords, and the enemy still had a sliver of ability to fight back — now it was padded armor against no armor, iron hammer against wooden club, a complete and utter crushing.

Amid wild roars, Zhao Siwan leaped left and right, and every hammer blow was certain to knock down one of the enemy.

He knew well that the only thing to watch for in this kind of one-against-a-hundred fight was not to get tangled up by the enemy — beware being swarmed and pinned down. Everything else, he could just go Musou.

Five savages stood shoulder to shoulder, thrusting together with wooden spears. Zhao Siwan neither dodged nor evaded; his round shield guarded his heart as he slammed forward, then closed in, and with a storm of wild hammer blows killed three on the spot. The remaining two, scared out of their wits, fled in panic.

Zhao Siwan did not pursue, but immediately leaped to another side and hammered two big fellows rushing over into bloody gourds.

'Hah!' Another giant of a man shouted and leaped into the fray. He wore close-fitting ring-linked armor, a compound iron helmet on his head, and held an extra-long hengdao saber. His body spun like a wheel, the great blade striking left and right like a fierce tiger lashing its tail.

As elites of the Hanshan Capital, the Xuanpi Longblade Corps excelled in the modao glaive glaive glaive and the seedling saber, which at this time was still called the long hengdao saber.

The former was used in formation against heavy-armored units and iron cavalry; the latter was specially designed by Zhang Zhao for melee combat.

Zhao Huzi, at nineteen, could serve as a squad leader in the inner garrison of the Hanshan Capital — naturally he was a master of this. The moment he entered the field, he was like a merciless harvester of lives, directly shattering the morale of the Indians in the forest.

As for the others, they naturally went to outflank and round up the enemy. To kill raw savages like these, who did not even have iron tools, there was no need to send everyone out.

Well, not entirely none. At least Zhao Hutou had just now directly cleaved apart a short sword that seemed to be cast from brass mixed with something else, and then the savages opposite him wailed in terror — some fled, some surrendered.

Half a shichen later, the living and the dead were both cleared out of the forest. There were forty-seven corpses and fifty-three gravely wounded — exactly one hundred people in total.

A sailor glanced at Zhao Siwan and Zhao Hutou and couldn't help swallowing. What killers! Two men cut down a hundred of the enemy in half a watch — are all the Zhaos this fierce?

As for the rest, more than two hundred were captured, and those who fled probably numbered one or two hundred.

Helian Hailong studied the prisoners closely. They wore animal hides and a kind of hemp cloth he had never seen before, with shorn hair and tattooed faces; some had both temples shaved clean, leaving only a tuft in the center tied up.

Their weapons were basically all wood and bone; only the chiefs had simple bronze blades. No warhorses were seen, nor any traces of carts or wagons.

"Judging by their weapons, they don't yet smelt iron, and bronze is scarce. The shorn hair and tattooed faces are similar to the Baiyue, but their features — they look very much like the Shiwei and the Jurchens, and the Wild Jurchens further north."

"They really do look like Wild Jurchens. Quite possibly they're some Wild Jurchen tribe."

A Khitan-born armored soldier confirmed Helian Hailong's judgment, then spoke a few words in the Jurchen tongue, but these fellows didn't seem to understand.

Everyone let out a long breath of relief. As long as they were mere barbarians, they were still within the realm of men and could be dealt with easily. What they feared was that this Eastern Purvavideha truly held mountain spirits and yakshas — that would be trouble.

"They are not Jurchens — they are descendants of the Yin people who migrated east." Zhao Huzi looked at these people and, suddenly overcome with emotion, dropped to his knees with a thud.

"So the Yin people really did migrate this far east!"

After his outburst of weeping, Zhao Huzi pressed his palms together and began chanting the Supreme Heaven Scripture for Dispelling Calamity and Deliverance from Peril.

"Yin people? They're Yin people?" The monk Fayan was astonished. He stared at Zhao Hutou.

"How do you know this? How do you know of the eastern continent's wild oxen and the Yin people?"

Zhao Hutou chanted a few lines of scripture, then raised his head, tears streaming down his face, his whole body trembling with emotion.

"Supreme Heaven told this humble child all of this before we departed. He said that in Eastern Purvavideha there are descendants of the Yin people who migrated east long ago — shorn hair, tattooed faces, no iron tools, no knowledge of packhorses, no understanding of the wheel, who follow the wild oxen of the eastern continent and live off them. This attack of theirs must be because of the wild oxen we killed yesterday."

"Indeed, indeed — Supreme Heaven has truly been to Eastern Purvavideha. He is truly the Buddha's entrusted one in this mortal world!" The monk Cixian also suddenly knelt and loudly echoed the words.

Tears streamed down the face of this monk who had traveled from India to the Khitan, from the Khitan to Chaori, and finally here to Eastern Purvavideha.

Since everything Supreme Heaven said was true, then he must certainly be the true Buddha, and the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss truly exists.

The attainment of arhatship and early entry into the Pure Land, which he had sought all his life, could surely now be realized.

"Master, Master, come quickly! How can these people press their palms together and even follow along in chanting the scripture!" Someone suddenly shouted. The monk Cixian hurried over to the river bend to look.

There really were people pressing their palms together, bowing in worship toward them, their mouths strangely following along in chanting the scripture.

Moreover, these people had their feet bound — but not by their own side. It seemed they were captives of the captives.

A rousing smile spread across the monk Cixian's face. "So Yanshou truly does have an affinity with the Buddha. It seems he arrived in this Eastern Purvavideha long ago."

(End of Chapter)

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