“What about General Su?” No one had ever asked Su Dangu this question before. This identity could not be revealed to the world – he always came and went alone, appearing at the right moment, then vanishing without a trace.

Those who didn’t know saw him as a fierce guardian deity. Those who knew believed he was invincible – a sharp weapon without desires or demands.

A weapon needs no concern.

Su Dangu looked at Yao Ying’s concerned face and said flatly, “My whereabouts are none of the Princess’s concern.”

His tone was neutral, without any intentional mockery.

However, to Yuan Jue’s ears, it felt like a bucket of icy snow water had been poured over his head. While Yao Ying hadn’t reacted yet, his scalp tightened, and he lowered his head awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands helplessly.

A gentle laugh rang out, “Of course it concerns me.”

Yuan Jue raised his head in surprise.

Yao Ying sat by the bonfire, looking straight into Su Dangu’s cold jade-green eyes, and said softly, “General Su was ordered to escort me. You were already unwell in Gaochang, and now you’re seriously wounded. By any measure of reason or emotion, I cannot leave the General alone.”

Su Dangu’s thick eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Before he could answer, Yao Ying turned to Yuan Jue, her dark eyes fixed on him, her voice rising slightly: “After you escort me down the mountain, you won’t come back, will you? You’re going to leave General Su here alone?”

Yuan Jue trembled, feeling inexplicably guilty, and said quietly, “I have urgent matters downhill.”

He had to execute the Regent’s orders.

Yao Ying spread her hands at him: “So that means General Su will have no one by his side?”

Yuan Jue’s eyes widened, his expression somewhat bewildered: “It has always been this way…”

Though there were Royal Court Central Army guards at the foot of the mountain and troops loyal to the Buddha’s Son in nearby states that could be called upon at any time, the Regent’s identity was special. Only a handful of guards could approach him and take direct orders from him. Now that Bi Suo had gone down the mountain openly as the Regent, to avoid alerting their enemies, the Regent on the mountain had to vanish completely.

Su Dangu couldn’t appear in public now.

This had happened before – when tribes sworn to the Khan’s Court rebelled when ambitious noble houses attempted to change dynasties when nobles and tribal leaders conflicted, the Regent would appear as if descending from heaven, resolve the crisis, then quietly leave alone.

It had been this way for years. Yuan Jue was used to the Regent coming and going without a trace. As long as the Regent wasn’t afflicted by his martial arts technique, he didn’t need help – after all, the more people who knew about his martial arts technique, the higher the risk of exposure.

Yuan Jue secretly glanced at Su Dangu.

Yao Ying also turned to look at the silent Su Dangu: “General Ashina has gone down the mountain, and Yuan Jue must go too. The General’s wounds haven’t healed – if you’re afflicted by your martial arts technique again with no one to help, what then?”

“I can stay.”

Her tone was gentle yet firm.

Yuan Jue thought for a moment and argued on Su Dangu’s behalf: “Princess doesn’t know martial arts – staying wouldn’t help the Regent much.”

Yao Ying raised an eyebrow: “The reason General Ashina brought me up the mountain was precisely because I don’t know martial arts. Didn’t I just help?”

Her voice carried a hint of grievance.

Yuan Jue was speechless, his lips moving slightly as he looked to Su Dangu for help.

Su Dangu signaled with his eyes that there was no need to say more, deep weariness between his brows.

Yuan Jue understood and closed his mouth. After a while, he took down the fragrant roasted nang bread and offered it to Yao Ying.

“Princess, please have some dried food.”

Yao Ying thought he had agreed and took the bread: “Have you and the General eaten?”

Yuan Jue nodded.

Still feeling dizzy, Yao Ying thanked him and lowered her head to eat the bread.

Su Dangu closed his eyes to meditate, Yuan Jue watched the bonfire, and all three fell silent.

The sky gradually darkened, with brilliant sunset light shining between the rolling mountains. The silver-white peaks reflected dazzling rays of light, magnificent.

Occasional brief eagle cries echoed between the clouds.

When the sun withdrew its last pale golden rays from the cliff face, Yuan Jue stood up and bowed to Yao Ying: “Princess, it’s getting dark. Please come down the mountain with me.”

Yao Ying’s brows furrowed slightly as she looked at Su Dangu.

Su Dangu sat with his eyes closed, motionless, his slightly curled long eyelashes frozen still, as if in deep meditation, like a statue carved from stone.

Yao Ying sighed and rose to leave with Yuan Jue.

Long boots crunching through the snow made soft creaking sounds as two figures headed down the mountain, disappearing into the heavy dusk.

As their footsteps gradually faded away, only the sound of the burning bonfire and the howling wind echoing through heaven and earth remained.

The sun sank between the mountain ranges, and the wind suddenly turned bitter, with snow swirling and falling.

Mountains and rivers fell silent, the sky vast and distant, leaving only Su Dangu alone.

…

The firelight grew dimmer as the night deepened.

The meditating Su Dangu suddenly frowned deeply, veins bulging slightly on the back of his hand and forehead, his whole body tensing.

Moments later, his shoulders began to tremble slightly, and his breathing suddenly became chaotic. His body tilted forward and collapsed onto the snow. He let out a muffled groan as a trace of bright red blood leaked from his lips.

The cold wind swept past, stirring his robes like countless knives, the chill penetrating his bones.

Su Dangu propped himself up on the snow with one hand, breathing heavily. He opened his eyes, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his right hand, and his fingers fumbled to remove the mask from his face.

The flickering yellow bonfire light fell on his face, gradually revealing handsome features beneath the grotesque scars.

His eyebrows gathered the beauty of mountains and rivers, his eyes contained the radiance of stars. His features were deep-set, his gaze clear as water.

The frost and snow covering the ground could not match the transcendent radiance between his brows.

His face was like the pure moon, his eyes like lotus blossoms.

In this moment, he was not the feared Su Dangu, but the ruler of the Khan’s Court, the Buddha’s Son Tanmoluojia, revered and beloved by all.

Bi Suo and Yuan Jue feared that he would lose his humanity as Su Dangu. They thought he, like them, hated and loathed the identity of Su Dangu and wanted to erase Su Dangu’s existence. They treated his different identities entirely differently, carefully maintaining the illusion.

But he had never wavered.

His mind was firm, never forgetting his responsibilities – Su Dangu was Tanmoluojia.

Though Su Dangu’s identity would never see the light of day, it was still part of him.

A sharp pain shot through his wound, and Tanmoluojia’s thick brows furrowed tightly.

The old man’s blade had been poisoned. Although Bi Suo had given him an antidote pill, the poison had still spread. His muscles and bones were weak, and having barely suppressed the chaotic true qi in his body, now his internal energy was running wild again.

Tanmoluojia took several breaths and struggled to prop himself up, leaning against the cold strange rock, his expression calm.

Years of memories flashed before him.

…

Raga had grown up among medicine pots since childhood, practicing martial arts techniques and using pills to stimulate his body’s potential while having to take Brahmin medicine to suppress the ill effects of his techniques. His body gradually couldn’t bear it. Starting from when he was eighteen, he needed more and more pills, with shorter intervals between episodes. After each time his power dispersed, it was like having a serious illness – his legs would swell and he could barely move, even standing became difficult.

Tanmoluojia knew this was a sign of a dying lamp running out of oil – he might not live much longer.

Two years ago, during one episode, he had almost died.

When Mundadeva came to the Khan’s Court, he accidentally discovered that water snake grass could ease his pain. Bi Suo and the others then placed their hopes on the grass being able to cure him completely.

Tanmoluojia remained calm. The water snake grass could only let him live a few more years, and this rare herb couldn’t be found anywhere north or south of the Pamirs. He might not be able to hold on until merchant caravans brought back more water snake grass.

So when the Northern Rong army besieged the city, he took more secret medicines and personally led the army, commanding the Five Armies to attack the Northern Rong cavalry. Once again, he defeated the Wakhan Khan who had swept across the northern desert with unstoppable momentum, forcing the Northern Rong to sign a treaty with the Khan’s Court.

After that great battle, Tanmoluojia realized his life was drawing to an end. He arranged his affairs, left an edict of succession, and prepared to return to the Royal Temple to quietly await that day’s arrival.

After his death, the news would be kept secret.

As long as the city’s nobles adhered to the treaty, for several years the Khan’s Court could still use his lingering authority to intimidate the Northern Rong.

Tanmoluojia knew the Wakhan Khan’s character well and knew he wouldn’t be content. He would certainly test his strength again. The day he left the desert city, he once again led troops to frighten away the deliberately provocative Haidu Aling.

By chance, he saved the desperate Princess Wenzhao.

The medicines the Princess brought allowed him to survive another bout of his martial arts technique’s backlash when he was on the brink of death.

Cause and effect follow each other, conditions arise and cease.

Tanmoluojia gave the Princess protection and watched her enter the Buddhist temple, where every day she confusedly and perfunctorily recited scriptures while busying herself trying to return to the Central Plains. Even in her exile, she didn’t forget to extend help to her fellow exiles, seeking a place for them to establish themselves.

They hadn’t spent much time together and hadn’t talked much.

The temple monks were dissatisfied with him. He had no wish to argue with them – he had made his choice long ago and was willing to bear all karmic consequences. He didn’t care about others’ opinions; fame and glory were like passing clouds.

But the Princess persistently defended him, speaking his thoughts aloud. Her understanding, respect, and reverence for him came from the heart, completely sincere.

After hearing the Princess’s words from across the flower wall, Tanmoluojia thought: perhaps Princess Wenzhao could become his fellow disciple.

He recalled what Mundadeva had said – the Princess had quite a capacity for wisdom.

Tanmoluojia selected some suitable scriptures for the Princess and had the temple master lead her in morning practice, requiring her to listen to lectures along with the other young novices.

The Princess studied very seriously, becoming fluent in reciting the scriptures.

For most of the summer, in the dim early morning light, Tanmoluojia sat in the dark Buddhist hall, writing translations of Sanskrit scriptures, listening to Yao Ying standing in the corridor outside reciting her lessons word by word before the novices. Her voice was clear and bright, her tone light and quick, like pearls falling on jade. He understood: the Princess had wisdom, but her mind was clear and penetrating – ultimately, she would not become a member of the sangha.

He could hear it.

At that moment, a faint disappointment flickered through Tanmoluojia’s heart.

Soon after, a young woman’s clear and gentle laughter came from outside the window, as morning dew drops on a bodhi leaf – pure and crystal clear, able to wash away all defilements and bring coolness to all.

Tanmoluojia’s brush paused, and that trace of melancholy in his heart vanished in an instant.

All sentient beings have Buddha-nature – this is my meaning.

…

Between the snowy peaks, the wind roared.

The burning bonfire was extinguished by the wind and snow.

Tanmoluojia came back to his senses and tried to circulate his energy.

The faint light sank into the horizon, and boundless darkness pressed down upon him. His eyes went blind, his spirit continuously sinking in the ice-cold darkness, drifting and floating.

All around was cold and silent, with gusts of yin wind and flickering ghost shadows, black smoke everywhere.

He continued to fall, his eyes tightly closed, yet he could see a terrifying hellish landscape.

Huge iron cities layered upon each other, stretching for thousands of li, blocking out the sky, countless beings trapped within, suffering endless torment.

Iron snakes and bronze dogs spewed tongues of flame, while people driven by ghost wardens screamed and wailed in the fierce fire.

Yakshas and evil spirits with mouths full of fangs sharp as swords tore at people’s flesh, while fierce iron eagles circled overhead, suddenly diving down to peck out people’s eyes.

Bones crushed and flesh rotted, polluted blood fell like rain, and people had nowhere to hide. Their cries and wails merged into huge waves that shook heaven and earth.

The Avici Hell of endless deaths and rebirths.

Tanmoluojia had seen such scenes with his own eyes.

The smoke of war rising everywhere, beacon fires stretching to the horizon, white bones exposed in the desert, the old and weak dying under the blade, the defeated enslaved, victorious cities in turn massacred by another powerful tribe – weapons clashing, living beings ground to dust.

The common people were constantly invaded by various sufferings.

Before Tanmoluojia’s birth, the Dharma clan was confined in the royal palace. By then, rumors had already spread that he would be the savior of the people. The powerful noble houses felt deep fear, and as soon as he was born, they took him away and imprisoned him in the Buddhist temple.

From childhood he was kept far from court officials and common people, growing up under layers of surveillance. Still, he showed extraordinary intelligence and wisdom. His master who taught him Buddhist dharma was overjoyed and repeatedly told those around him: “The Buddha’s Son is truly outstanding – he will pacify the chaotic world and bring peace and tranquility to the people of the Khan’s Court.”

Buddhist dharma could educate people’s minds but could not stop evil-doers from killing innocent people, and could not stop the magnificent and brutally fierce Northern Rong cavalry.

To pacify the chaotic world and let the Khan’s Court’s people live in peace and prosperity, he had no choice but to take up the butcher’s knife and create the sin of killing.

Only with the merciless methods of an asura could he protect peace in one region.

He had broken the precept against killing and would forever fall into the Avici Hell, suffering torment like the ghosts wailing in the flames and mountains of knives.

Tanmoluojia pressed his palms together, and the visions in his mind gradually faded, the killing intent between his brows dissipating like smoke.

If I don’t enter hell, who will?

This was the path he had chosen.

Tanmoluojia opened his eyes, his jade-colored pupils rippling with light like they were filled with clear starlight. His body trembled as he vomited a large mouthful of polluted blood.

The night was deep, the cold wind howling furiously.

He collapsed beside the extinguished bonfire, looking at the snow-stained red, slowly closing his eyes.

In the vast sound of wind came a sudden horse’s neigh.

After a while, another loud horse’s neigh.

Had assassins found him?

Tanmoluojia suddenly awakened, struggling to get up, putting on his mask, standing, and looking toward the sound.

In the dim snowy light, a strong horse was climbing along the steep and rugged mountain path. A figure crouched low on horseback, wearing thick winter clothes, the form delicate – not like an assassin.

Suddenly the wind died down, the night breeze dispersing the low-hanging clouds. Several rays of clear moonlight poured down, enveloping that figure.

The strong horse refused to go forward. The person on horseback dismounted, stumbling and limping forward.

Tanmoluojia lowered his eyes and brows, looking down at the approaching figure.

That person had fallen badly but continued climbing without a sound. After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the crunch of long boots on snow grew closer and closer. Finally, the young woman climbed up the snow pile, happily patted the snow and mud from her body, raised her face, and walked quickly toward Tanmoluojia.

The dim moonlight and reflected snow light illuminated a young and beautiful face.

“General Su!”

She saw Tanmoluojia and smiled, waving to him, her clothes fluttering, her eyes bright and clear, like a divine woman.