The stone cave was deep and hard to see into, with hundreds of oddly shaped stalactites hanging above, and damp walls on all four sides.
Inside the cave, there seemed to be an extremely thin stream, trickling and dissolving, filled with cold water vapor.
Yan Cen walked ahead with uneven steps. Meng Qi keenly noticed dried blood on the sharp, strange rocks beside them. He reached out and took down a small piece of coarse linen cloth hanging there, felt the torn edge, and also identified several messy footprints on the ground.
The stone cave was damp, and these footprints had mud on them, so they were barely visible.
——The path they had walked before did not have such marks.
Meng Qi seemed thoughtful and glanced at Yan Cen in front.
When Yan Cen brought him in, he used a cliffside stream five li outside Xuanchuan Pass. The cave entrance was covered by dead vines and tangled branches, and it was located halfway up a sheer cliff. Aside from masters of supreme lightness skill, perhaps only those who gathered herbs in the deep mountains all year could have used ropes and pitons to climb in and out.
Also, there were always snakes, rats, ants, or beasts in these types of caves. It had indeed been so earlier. Yet upon reaching this place, it suddenly became open and airy, the air currents flowed through, leaving no filth.
Meng Qi thought there had to be a ventilation shaft here.
In other words, there was a secret path leading to the surface.
The entrance should have been inside Xuanchuan Pass, probably near the cemetery, while Yan Cen took him on a large detour.
The cave was quiet enough that only dripping water and the faint noise of footsteps brushing over moss could be heard. Yan Cen’s figure suddenly swayed, and he reached out to steady himself against a nearby rock.
Meng Qi looked at him and said, “If you couldn’t control your emotions, you would have gone mad from inner turmoil before getting your revenge.”
Yan Cen gasped for breath, swayed, then stood up straight.
——He looked even more like a ghost now.
On the day Xuanchuan Pass fell, what exactly happened? And who drugged it?
The well had living water. Once any drug was put in, the medicinal effects would likely be replaced in less than a day. To knock out all the soldiers at Xuanchuan Pass, how much drug powder would that have required? It had to be a whole sack poured into the well. Were all the people around the well blind?
Even if it was in the dead of night, when no one noticed, plus the group responsible for guarding and drawing water all betrayed together, the first bucket would have had an odd smell or color. Would the cooks also have been in on it?
Xuanchuan Pass had thousands of soldiers. Just the cooking pots numbered over a dozen, and there were also advisors and civil officials who did not share the same pot as the troops.
Even if General Ning led by example, eating and living with the soldiers, what about the women and children of the Ning family?
The news from a month ago said the entire Ning family died in battle. If at least one had escaped alive, the Tianshou King’s army would not have dared to press forward so recklessly and charge straight into Jingzhou, because the Ning family army would have regrouped, fortified the city, and resisted the enemy.
Even if the survivor were only a child or a woman, the legendary Ning family army would not have collapsed.
Among the ruins were remains everywhere, impossible to count, making it look as if all the soldiers perished at once…
In that case, it indeed confirmed that something went wrong with the water source; otherwise, such a grave disaster would be unlikely.
Could it not have been some knockout drug but poison… or the carcass of a diseased animal causing the troops to fall ill? That was impossible. Ignoring the heavier stench of a rotting, diseased animal, the mere fact that there were so many bodies missing heads and limbs in the ruins proved that the Tianshou King’s forces entered Xuanchuan Pass and massacred. If there had been an epidemic, they would not have dared take that risk.
As Meng Qi walked, he thought, and countless ideas rose up in that instant, while he also dismissed many unreasonable or impossible guesses.
It was a pity Mo Li was not around.
Otherwise, he could have asked Doctor Mo if there was such a miraculous medicine in the world, soundless and tasteless yet potent enough that just a small pinch could knock out thousands.
——Never mind, he did not even need to ask; such a thing simply did not exist.
This sort of miraculous drug only appeared in storybooks or legends, or perhaps hundreds of years later it would be found in exotic beasts or plants overseas, or perhaps future generations would develop some new method of concoction to fuse many medicines into one, unleashing hundreds or thousands of times the potency.
Without any miraculous drug, manpower had to fill the gap.
So was it a massive inside betrayal?
How did the Tianshou King do it?
Meng Qi frowned. He kept pondering this all the way to the depths of the cave.
“Cousin?”
A soft, childish voice spoke. It belonged to a young girl, her twin buns on each side of her head looking as if they were tied up in a hurry, messy and unkempt.
Upon noticing a stranger behind Yan Cen, she immediately shrank back and revealed only a pair of bright, dark eyes.
“A Ning family girl?”
“…The granddaughter of the late General Huaiyi’s nephew, the only Ning family grandchild who had not reached adulthood.”
The Ning family had never been large in number. Any loyal border-guard military household would not thrive. If not for the thirty-nine years of prosperity under the Chu Dynasty, the Ning line would have been even smaller. It was already lucky they had not come down to a single surviving descendant.
“And now…” There was no Ning family left.
Yan Cen’s expression was grim, his throat moved, and his voice came out broken and incoherent.
“Nonsense, aren’t you from the Ning family, and isn’t she from the Ning family?” Meng Qi scolded in a low voice.
Yan Cen became tongue-tied, instinctively grabbed his cloak, and hunched over more.
After walking around a cluster of bell-shaped rocks, a wide open space suddenly appeared before their eyes.
The cave ceiling had tiny cracks, through which strands of moonlight shone in, and the moss growing on the cave walls emitted a faint light. Compared to the pitch darkness earlier where one could not see one’s hand, it felt as if they had just stepped out of the cave. Most conveniently, there was a spring on one side of the cavern, making it easy to fetch water.
In the corner stood several chests covered with oilcloth, and around twenty people, men and women of various ages, gathered there.
Some wore armor, some wore monk robes. When the Ning family girl ran back, an old servant woman hurriedly scooped her up in her arms and shrank back quietly.
This was probably the group of people who had survived Xuanchuan Pass.
Meng Qi looked around in a circle, his gaze resting on those few monks.
Because Meng Qi was brought in by Yan Cen, even though everyone looked wary and uneasy, no one spoke first.
“My fellow brothers, this is… Senior Meng, whom I met once before. Senior possessed profound internal power, and he might be able to save Master Yuan Zhi.” Yan Cen spoke with difficulty. He could not directly reveal Meng Qi’s identity, yet convincing these monks from Bao Xiang Temple was also no easy task.
——They dared not trust anyone anymore.
“Amitabha.” The leading monk rose slowly, put his palms together, and recited a Buddhist chant.
Not only did he refrain from stopping them, on the contrary, he made way for them.
Yan Cen first felt confused, then his expression changed drastically, and he rushed forward.
“Master Yuan Zhi?”
The old monk Yuan Zhi lay on the oilcloth-covered ground, his limbs curled in a very strange way.
Meng Qi’s gaze sharpened. Earlier he had not been surprised to see Yan Cen so hunched over, since Yan Cen had been born with a deformity and never dared face people directly, plus he had suffered all these blows. However, Meng Qi no longer thought so now. Yuan Zhi’s symptoms clearly indicated poisoning—a very well-known poison.
“Qian Ji.”
It caused the whole body to contract, convulse, and ache like being twisted by a knife.
Even if the victim could be saved, they would be crippled, their limbs refusing to obey, unable to stand.
Yuan Zhi possessed profound internal power and had clung to life until now. His face looked emaciated, and he was on his last breath.
Meng Qi reached out, gripped the old monk’s withered wrist, and tested by channeling some internal energy.
Since the true qi of the dragon’s veins basically amounted to spiritual energy, it was like parched, cracked soil receiving droplets of water. Muscles, tendons, and internal organs all suddenly came alive, desperately clinging to this thread of hope. At this point, Meng Qi did not hold back, either. The rock chamber was connected to the earth’s pulse, so it teemed with spiritual energy. No matter how much he gave, he could quickly restore it.
Within moments, Yuan Zhi slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze looked murky, his aged face etched with wrinkles.
Everyone felt a surge of joy, about to call his name, when they saw a faint red flush on Yuan Zhi’s face. They became terrified, fearing it was nothing but a momentary return to life before death.
“So it was Master Meng who came.” Yuan Zhi actually let out a laugh and spoke softly, “This old monk already had one foot in the bitter sea, preparing to cross those boundless turbid waves, and someone dragged me back.”
As he spoke, he struggled to sit up. Meng Qi was about to stop him, but heard Yuan Zhi sigh, “This old monk’s meridians are ruined. The Qian Ji poison lived up to its name. By now, why waste more of the Master’s internal energy? My fellow brothers have all passed on. A trifling mortal body is nothing compared to the grand liberation.”
“No!” Yan Cen clutched Master Yuan Zhi’s robe tightly, choking with sobs.
The other monks chanted sutras in low voices, their expressions filled with sorrow.
Yan Cen hurriedly said, “Senior Meng had a friend, whom you met before, Doctor Mo. He is extremely skilled in medicine…”
This was not untrue, but Doctor Mo was not here!
Besides, the Qian Ji poison was so fierce that after all this time, it was almost impossible to save him.
Meng Qi paused at these words, wondering how to respond. The old monk Yuan Zhi already refused. “Perhaps Doctor Mo could save my life, but lying here, unable to move, what difference would there be from being a block of wood or stone? Yan Cen, you must awaken… Ever since the night Xuanchuan Pass fell, ever since the day you were born, cough, cough, all tribulations and turbidities came from worldly external forces. Guard your heart.”
At this moment, apart from those monks, likely only Yan Cen—who had grown up in a Buddhist temple—and Master Meng, who once clashed with the Mojis of Xiliang, could understand what Yuan Zhi meant.
Buddha spoke of the Pure Land and mentioned the Five Turbidities in the evil world, with tribulation-turbidity being first among them.
All hardships inflicted by fate and the times could be called tribulation-turbidity. Born malformed, separated from loved ones, ravaged by war, tormented by cold and hunger, life precarious day by day… Yan Cen was steeped in tribulation-turbidity, yet Yuan Zhi hoped he could walk out of it. Only by unshackling and shaking free of these tribulations could he truly live.
“Yan Cen.” Master Yuan Zhi caressed Yan Cen’s head, the junior he worried about the most.
He did not demand that Yan Cen seek revenge, nor did he ask him to rescue the world’s suffering like the monks of Bao Xiang Temple or the Ning family. He only wished Yan Cen could live well.
As the spiritual energy Meng Qi had channeled into him was gradually spent, the light faded from Yuan Zhi’s eyes. He strained to control his unresponsive limbs, barely managing to assume a seated posture. His shriveled fingers groped across the ground.
Yan Cen quickly handed him his Zen staff.
Yuan Zhi’s trembling hand grabbed it, and all of a sudden, he gathered every bit of his energy. With a fierce motion, he reversed his grip and pressed Yan Cen forward.
“Master, don’t!”
Yan Cen realized what was happening, and Meng Qi instinctively stepped forward to intervene.
Yet the cloak wrapped around Yan Cen had already been blown open by the surge of energy. He was forced to shut his eyes and accept the torrent of power pouring into his body.
Yuan Zhi transferred his last stream of energy—protecting his own heart meridian—to Yan Cen.
His contorted, withered hand dropped limply, eyes closing, never to breathe again.
He remained seated there, lacking even a shred of calm acceptance found in a high monk’s final moments. His features were twisted and deformed by poison.
Meng Qi still remembered when Master Yuan Zhi broke through in his martial arts. With the withering-flourishing Zen principle surging in his internal power, his muscles and meridians bulged, spiritual essence abounded, looking every bit like a wrathful Vajra. In just a few short months, it was as though that bodhi tree had shed all its leaves, shriveled, and was twisted out of shape.
The few monks chanting prayers paused; they seemed to choke on their words, tears dripping onto the ground.
