The sky was gradually darkening. The brilliant sunset fell upon the Buddhist temples and grottoes of the Royal Temple, casting a golden glow over their varied heights and staggered arrangement. In the deepening twilight, the golden light wavered as bronze bells on the temple eaves swayed in the wind, their gentle chimes creating a solemn and dignified atmosphere.

Bisuo hurried up the stone steps. The hidden guard Ba Mi’er stopped him in the corner, saying, “Halt, General.”

Bisuo took out his bronze token: “I need to see the King.”

Ba Mi’er took the token and went inside. Shortly after, he returned and led Bisuo into the courtyard, instructing him to wait under a tree.

Bisuo looked up at the grotto with its dim lamplight showing through, his heart burning with anxiety. As he paced back and forth, his gaze swept over the bare tree, noticing several familiar knots.

He stared at the tree in a daze. This tree had been transplanted by Tanmoluojia himself.

This grotto was where Tanmoluojia had lived, and where he had formally taken his vows. Princess Wenzhao didn’t know… how many days Luojia’s birthday celebrations would last. Today was his actual birthday.

Bisuo’s right hand gripped his sword hilt tightly.

Tanmoluojia didn’t care about birthdays; over the years, his followers had celebrated for him spontaneously. In previous years on this day, he would spend time alone copying Buddhist sutras from morning until night, seeing no visitors.

This year, today.

On this meaningful day, he had brought Princess Wenzhao to this grotto that held such significance for him.

This meant that Princess Wenzhao held equal significance to him.

…

Inside the grotto.

Yao Ying swallowed the medicine pill and sat cross-legged.

Tanmoluojia sat opposite her, his fingers turning prayer beads, his eyes slightly lowered.

Silence pervaded, with only thin wisps of smoke rising.

Yao Ying wasn’t accustomed to sitting formally and soon felt her waist and legs growing sore. Yet Tanmoluojia remained motionless, the patterns of his kasaya still as water ripples, like a Buddha statue. Only his prayer beads moved slightly in his hands. It seemed he could sit motionless for an entire day.

Her gaze wandered around the room. The furnishings were simple: a writing desk, screen, low couch, and Buddhist shrine. Finding nothing particularly interesting to look at, her eyes returned to Tanmoluojia. She rested her chin in her hand and quietly gazed at him.

His features were deep-set and distinct. As a highly revered monk, he usually appeared smooth and cool like jade, otherworldly and detached. But looking closely, his face held a certain sharp dignity. When he grew stern, his bearing became majestic and imposing. Yet he had been blessed with gentle jade-colored eyes that seemed to hold deep pools within them, his expression bright and graceful.

Yao Ying couldn’t help thinking: he must look very handsome when he smiles.

Since meeting him, she had never seen him smile.

Lost in her observations, Tanmoluojia raised his eyes to meet her gaze.

They looked at each other silently. Seeing he wasn’t in meditation, Yao Ying smiled at him and lowered her head to open the package she had brought.

“I haven’t yet wished the Master a happy birthday…”

She took out several scriptures and handed them to Tanmoluojia.

Tanmoluojia said, “The Princess has already given birthday gifts.”

She had intentionally outdone the other princesses at the ceremony, having her merchant convoy prepare lavish gifts. When the ceremonial officials presented her gifts, gasps arose from those present – exquisite golden Buddhas, precious vessels of eight treasures, gold and jewels dazzling the eye, along with beautifully bound sutras with lovely illustrations.

The envoys from various countries had never seen such sutras and were amazed, wanting to borrow them to study. The temple master hadn’t agreed, and the sutras were now enshrined in the Royal Temple.

She never missed an opportunity to expand her merchant convoy. While the silk brought from the Central Plains was precious, its quantity was limited. Cotton textiles couldn’t be rushed, but papermaking was much more convenient and had lower costs with higher profits. She anticipated that her shops would soon be selling such bound sutras.

Hearing him mention the glittering gifts from the ceremony, Yao Ying smiled faintly and held out the scriptures, saying, “Those were for others to see. These are the birthday gifts I prepared for the Master.”

Tanmoluojia glanced at her, accepted the scriptures, and opened them. Dense text filled the lotus-patterned paper.

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

Yao Ying knew he was proficient in various languages and had excellent calligraphy. Somewhat embarrassed, she said, “The royal script differs greatly from Chinese characters. I didn’t write it well – please forgive my poor handwriting, Master.”

Tanmoluojia closed the scriptures.

Though her royal script wasn’t well-written, he could recognize the characters. She had hand-copied the entire “Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Fundamental Vow Sutra.”

Yao Ying smiled and said, “My mother believes in Buddhism, and I once copied the ‘Medicine Buddha Sutra’ for her. Master is a monk, a cultivator who has transcended life and death, neither clinging to life nor fearing death. But I am a secular person. I hope the Master lives a long life, stays healthy and strong, and needs no medicine. After much thought, I copied the ‘Ksitigarbha Sutra’ to pray for your blessings.”

Tanmoluojia remained silent for a moment, then asked, “Why did the Princess choose to copy the ‘Ksitigarbha Sutra’?”

Yao Ying replied, “I noticed the Master often reads this sutra.”

The copies of the “Ksitigarbha Sutra” on his desk were filled with annotations, the scrolls stuffed with bookmarks. When discussing Buddhist teachings, he often quoted from it, clearly having a deep understanding and strong agreement with its teachings. That’s why she decided to copy this sutra.

Tanmoluojia looked at Yao Ying and said, “The Princess doesn’t believe in Buddhism.”

Yao Ying widened her eyes: “But you do, Master.”

Because it was his faith, she wanted to pray for his blessings in the way he pursued.

The wind blew into the room, making the candlelight flicker. The shifting light and shadows played across Yao Ying’s face, her bright eyes gleaming like autumn waters.

The wind moved, and the banners moved.

Tanmoluojia lowered his gaze to look at the scripture. When she had been asking Buddha for forgiveness, she could copy two volumes of sutras in one night, her handwriting neat and beautiful, though clearly without much care taken, even showing signs of corrections. This copy of the “Ksitigarbha Sutra” for him, though the characters were crooked, had been carefully copied stroke by stroke.

He was lost in thought for a moment, as if he could see her properly and carefully writing, bent over her desk.

Yao Ying knew he didn’t care about birthdays at all. Seeing his expressionless face after receiving the gift, she didn’t take it to heart but added: “However, Master should still seek out famous doctors and take proper medicine to recover. I had people search for some medicinal herbs, though I’m not sure if they’re useful. I’ve already had Yuanjue store them away. Since there are doctors from India in the royal court, why not have them examine you? If the herbs are useful, I can have people find more.”

Tanmoluojia put away the scripture and made a soft sound of acknowledgment. Where she couldn’t see, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

She probably wanted to say: Master, you still need to take medicine to treat illness.

While talking with him, Yao Ying moved her legs and rubbed her shoulders. Suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue, she turned aside to cover a yawn, fine beads of sweat appearing on her forehead.

Tanmoluojia had been observing her since she took the medicine. Seeing her consciousness growing hazy, he said softly, “This is the Princess’s first time taking this medicine. The effects are strong. If you feel drowsy, you may lie down.”

Yao Ying made to stand up: “Then I’ll go back…”

Tanmoluojia shook his head and stood: “This is your first time taking the medicine. You cannot be left alone.”

Having said this, he turned and left to give her privacy.

Yao Ying made a soft sound of acknowledgment at his straight back, looked around, and saw clean bedding in the corner of the couch. It seemed he had prepared everything.

The monk was a thoughtful doctor.

Her eyelids grew increasingly heavy, and she fell asleep shortly after lying down.

…

Hearing Yao Ying’s breathing become deep and steady behind the screen, Tanmoluojia returned to the inner room.

In the flickering candlelight, he moved the candlestick to the low couch and sat on the edge, carefully examining her complexion. He pulled up the quilt, took a soft cloth, and using it to maintain propriety, lifted her wrist to check her pulse with two fingers.

Yao Ying was growing increasingly hot, with sweat appearing at her temples.

Tanmoluojia frowned, brought hot water and cloths, and began wiping away her sweat.

In her dreams, she felt his gentle movements and reached out to grab his sleeve.

“Master…”

She called out unconsciously, her voice hoarse, sounding particularly intimate.

Like whispers behind curtains.

Tanmoluojia’s movements paused briefly before he pulled his kasaya sleeve free and continued wiping.

“Master…”

Yao Ying called to him again, once more grabbing his sleeve, her fingers gripping tightly.

Tanmoluojia pulled his sleeve away.

“Master, it hurts…”

She suddenly said.

Her dream speech was soft, a light groan escaping her nose. It wasn’t a complaint or grievance, but rather the complete dropping of defenses before someone trusted.

Tanmoluojia paused, his thick eyelashes lowered to hide all his thoughts.

“Where does it hurt?”

After a while, he asked softly.

Yao Ying curled into a ball, her skin covered in fine sweat: “Everything hurts…”

Tanmoluojia remained motionless. After a moment, he leaned down, his long fingers slowly approaching her cheek, stopping steadily just before touching her.

His gaze fixed on her face for a long while. Then he lowered his head, removed the bodhi bead bracelet from his wrist, and using the cloth for propriety, lifted her wrist to place the prayer beads around it.

Bodhi beads as religious implements ward off evil, increase wisdom, dispel disasters, expand virtue, and eliminate illness…

He had worn this bracelet for many years.

After placing the beads on her wrist, he began reciting scriptures.

May your pain be lessened, may you be free from illness and disaster, may all your wishes be fulfilled, and may misfortune turn to fortune.

Hearing the familiar, cool, and melodious chanting, Yao Ying gradually calmed, her fingers still gripping Tanmoluojia’s kasaya sleeve.

He didn’t pull his sleeve away.

Footsteps sounded outside the screen as Ba Mi’er announced that Bisuo had arrived.

“Let him wait.”

Tanmoluojia said, looking at Yao Ying.

A quarter-hour later, as the calming effects of the mandala medicine took hold, Yao Ying’s furrowed brows relaxed somewhat. She no longer mumbled in her sleep, and her grip on his sleeve loosened.

Tanmoluojia waited a while longer, tucked her exposed hand back under the quilt, returned to his desk, and recorded her reactions in Sanskrit before finally going out.

…

Night had fallen.

Bisuo waited in the courtyard, his expression serious as he watched Tanmoluojia emerge.

“My King, is Princess Wenzhao different from others in your eyes?”

If Li Yao Ying were just an ordinary woman, if she were like Princess Manda who relied on beauty to enchant hearts… then Bisuo wouldn’t be so terrified as he was now.

She wasn’t an ordinary woman. She possessed unparalleled beauty like a goddess and always seemed to share a connection with Luojia’s heart.

Bisuo was a man, and having spent so much time with Li Yao Ying, he increasingly worried that Luojia would develop feelings for her.

He waited anxiously for Luojia’s answer.

The night wind blew past as Tanmoluojia stood in the corridor, moonlight covering his shoulders, his kasaya fluttering.

“She is different.”

He said quietly.

Bisuo’s whole body trembled. Though he had guessed this would be the answer, seeing Tanmoluojia acknowledge it so openly still left him in disbelief.

“My King, Princess Wenzhao cannot remain in the royal court any longer,” he said firmly. “The Princess is a Han woman, and you are the noble Son of Buddha!”

If this continued, it would be harmful to both Tanmoluojia and Li Yao Ying. Luojia would damage his cultivation by developing feelings, and Li Yao Ying would be seen as a demon woman who tempted the Son of Buddha to fall. She would face everyone’s curses, hatred, and contempt. Fanatical believers were capable of anything – they would spare no effort to destroy her.

Tanmoluojia gazed into the night, his expression calm, and said: “The seven emotions and six desires are all natural. Human nature includes desires for companionship and sustenance – there’s no need to avoid them. For cultivators, the purpose is to sever various desires and temper the will.”

The seven emotions and six desires were human nature. He was mortal; developing feelings was ordinary, nothing to be taboo.

He was a cultivator; these feelings were merely a tribulation on his path of cultivation.

When the heart is still, the banner is still.

He had been like an ancient well, with a water lotus growing quietly within, cold and solitary. She had crossed thousands of mountains and waters to arrive, like a spring breeze passing by, rippling the still water. As waves arose, the lotus swayed gently.

When the wind stops, the water stills.

All things in the world are impermanent. Love is like morning dew, beauty like a bubble’s shadow.

She would return to distant Han territory, reunite with her family, and live a life of joy.

He would continue his solitary cultivation – even if his body shattered to dust, he would not look back.

Bisuo smiled bitterly.

He believed in Tanmoluojia’s firm resolve and ability to handle his relationship with Li Yao Ying properly. But worldly matters were never so simple.

Luojia was the sovereign of the royal court, the Son of Buddha revered by the people, and he was also Regent Su Dan Gu…

Bisuo gathered himself and said: “My King, news of Princess Wenzhao’s rivalry with other princesses has spread. The common people curse her with the vilest words in private, saying she hinders your cultivation out of delusional desire, calling her shameless and base. They say she will face retribution and fall eternally into the Asura hell… She spoke of being punished by gods and buddhas in her dreams, and everyone believes it absolutely, thinking that unless she becomes a nun like Matangi, she will surely be bound by evil karma.”

“My King, Princess Wenzhao will eventually return to Han territory. For her sake, you cannot continue showing her such favor.”

“I am willing to care for Princess Wenzhao on your behalf, my King. I will protect the Princess with all my might, even at the cost of my life.”

Tanmoluojia turned to look at Bisuo, his jade eyes tranquil.

Bisuo sighed inwardly and knelt on one knee: “My King, I am friends with Princess Wenzhao. I swear I would never harbor any ill intentions toward her… I am simply worried about her situation.”

He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and steeled his heart.

“My King, your feelings for Princess Wenzhao could bring her disaster – even mortal danger.”

“They will throw Princess Wenzhao into a real fire pit, as they do with heretical demon women, and burn her alive to cleanse her sins.”

An unusual silence fell in the courtyard.

The night wind stirred Tanmoluojia’s kasaya as he said: “Bisuo, whether I have feelings or not has nothing to do with Princess Wenzhao.”

His tone was majestic, containing an implicit warning.

Regardless of his feelings, he alone would bear all the consequences – it had nothing to do with Li Yao Ying.

Bisuo heard his determination and felt great anguish, bitterness crossing his face.

“Your servant understands.”

He knew Tanmoluojia well enough to know that Luojia would not evade responsibility. Whatever the outcome, Luojia would bear all bitter fruits alone.

That was precisely why he worried so much.

…

Bisuo rose and left the grotto.

The fear that had lingered in his heart for years surfaced again.

He recalled his master’s dying words: “Bisuo, don’t be soft-hearted, don’t hesitate… If that day truly comes, you must kill him with your own hands.”

Luojia had said the same thing to him.

“Bisuo, do not hesitate. My illness is severe; I am already a dying man.”

Bisuo wiped the corner of his eye.

…

Many years ago, Tanmoluojia practiced his cultivation technique.

His will was strong. He endured not only immense physical pain but also mental trials. Apart from appearing particularly cold while cultivating, he showed no abnormalities.

Before Master Bo Luo Liu Zhi died, he called Bisuo over and handed him a knife.

“Bisuo, you are Luojia’s fellow disciple. In the future, if Luojia’s violent nature erupts and he begins killing indiscriminately, you must kill him with your own hands.”

Bisuo was shocked: “Master, Luojia is the Son of Buddha. He cultivates this technique because he cannot bear to watch the royal guards die one by one. How could he ever kill indiscriminately?”

Bo Luo Liu Zhi spoke tremulously: “There are no absolutes in this world… Have you heard the story of General Sai Sang Er?”

Bisuo nodded. Of course, he knew – every young man in the royal court dreamed of becoming a great hero like General Sai Sang Er.

Bo Luo Liu Zhi looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

“Bisuo, General Sai Sang Er was my senior brother… He didn’t die in the noble families’ plots… He died by his master’s blade.”

Bisuo’s eyes widened.

Bo Luo Liu Zhi stroked the knife in his hands.

“Senior brother cultivated in the royal temple from childhood, practicing techniques. Among the fellow disciples, he had the best comprehension and the finest character. All the brothers admired him.”

“At fourteen, senior brother began following his father and brothers in military campaigns for the royal court, taking enemy heads in his first battle. At eighteen, he led three thousand cavalry beyond the Onion Range, defeated the Turkic Khanate, killed eight thousand enemies, and captured over twenty thousand… His martial arts were supreme, his character resolute – nothing could defeat him…”

“Throughout his life, senior brother was loyal and upright, guarding the royal court’s borders, bringing the eastern and western trade routes completely under royal court control. He subdued enemies far and wide and fought bravely and skillfully. The royal court’s banners flew over the snowy lands and deserts. Small and large states trembled at his name. With him, neither eastern nor western powerful dynasties dared invade the royal court…”

“Senior brother treated his soldiers like sons, deeply beloved by his subordinates. He was righteous and brave, indifferent to fame and fortune, never proud of his military achievements. In daily life, he insisted on frugality, heading to the frontlines just days after his wedding…”

“Senior brother often said that as a son of the royal court and a martial artist, one should be loyal to the country and protect the common people.”

At this point, Bo Luo Liu Zhi’s clouded eyes filled with tears.

“Master said senior brother was the most suitable person to practice the technique. His character was so noble – no matter how the royal family suspected him or how the noble houses pushed him aside, he always put the royal court and common people first. He was born a hero and would never fall into demonic cultivation.”

“Until that year… Senior brother went to war, and his mother unknowingly offended the Empress Dowager and royal nobles. She was poisoned to death by the Empress Dowager. Fearing exposure and urged by treacherous officials, the Empress Dowager decided to finish the job, bribing bandits to kill the senior brother’s family and framing the noble houses. Senior brother’s family members who escaped the city to send word were all killed… By the time the King learned of it, the Empress Dowager had already committed this grave error, and the noble houses watched coldly… In the end, senior brother’s entire family died…”

Bo Luo Liu Zhi smiled bitterly.

“Senior brother had won a great victory and was returning triumphant with his army. How could we tell him…”

“He had devoted himself completely to the royal court, returning home full of joy, yet I had to tell him, ‘Brother, your family is all dead – your father, your mother, your pregnant wife and two children, your brothers, and sisters… All dead! Killed by the treacherous officials and nobles…'”

Bo Luo Liu Zhi stared at his trembling hands.

“Later, senior brother returned. The King feared his madness and especially feared that the soldiers who admired him might rebel. He could only cover up the evidence and protect his mother… Senior brother knew nothing, believing his family had died in a tragedy… The noble houses deliberately leaked the information to him…”

Sai Sang Er went mad.

He charged into the palace with his blade, killing indiscriminately along the way. The palace guards were his subordinates – they were neither his match nor willing to strike him, yet they couldn’t watch him slaughter the innocent.

Finally, Sai Sang Er’s master led the temple’s warrior monks to surround him.

Bo Luo Liu Zhi was very young then and had sneaked in.

He would never forget that rainy night.

The great hero whom the royal court’s young men most admired fought like a cornered beast against his fellow disciples, flesh and blood flying.

Sai Sang Er finally died by his master’s blade.

“The eagle soaring in the heavens, the divine wolf racing across the desert – he didn’t die on the battlefield, didn’t die by enemy blades, he died at the hands of his people! The royal guards, his master, his junior brothers… The central army mobilized hundreds of men, set traps, and even captured one of his distant relatives just to lure and surround him… That night, the royal temple ran with blood. I can never forget…”

“Sai Sang Er died by our hands…”

All the temple monks who participated in surrounding Sai Sang Er could never forget that night. Their spirits were crushed, and they left one by one to become ascetic monks.

From then on, the royal family declined, the nation weakened, and generations of Tan Mo family rulers became puppets of the noble houses.

Until Tanmoluojia was born.

Bo Luo Liu Zhi gripped Bisuo’s shoulders tightly.

“Senior brother wasn’t killed by the master… He was seeking death…”

Before dying, Sai Sang Er looked around at his fellow disciples and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

The brothers knelt before his corpse, faces streaming with tears.

Sai Sang Er had become lucid in his final moment. Realizing he had killed many innocents in his madness, he gave up resistance and went willingly to his death.

The brothers would have preferred he hadn’t become lucid, that he had truly gone mad.

For a hero to lose everything, to have his lifelong beliefs shattered, and then to face death with clear consciousness – how painful that must have been.

Bo Luo Liu Zhi looked at Bisuo, his face contorted.

“All these years… only Luojia has been most like him, and Luojia happens to be the most suitable person to practice this technique… If this is heaven’s will… you must watch over him well, be loyal to him, don’t let him end up like Sai Sang Er…”

“If that day truly comes… kill him, let him find release…”

…

A cool breeze blew, startling Bisuo from his memories as he stood before the steps.

No matter which path Luojia chose, he would never raise a blade against him.

He knew Luojia would not easily abandon his beliefs.

Therefore, he didn’t fear Luojia breaking his vows.

He feared Luojia developing feelings.

Breaking vows wouldn’t shake Luojia’s resolve, but feelings were different. Without feelings, nothing in this world could harm him. With feelings, he would have a weakness. But his identity and the technique he practiced meant he could not have weaknesses or attachments.

Bo Luo Liu Zhi had said that among rulers called Son of Buddha, Luojia was unique. From childhood, he had been restrained and controlled. The more he controlled himself, the more intense would be his eventual eruption.

He had never felt emotion before, thinking it would be just a moment’s flutter. How could he know that once feelings arose, how could desire not follow?

With desire would come various unfulfilled wishes, various meetings with the hated, and various partings of life and death… Any one of these could cause Luojia to lose his reason.

Luojia wanting to guide Princess Wenzhao to become a nun… was already a sign of greed – he wanted her to stay.

But Princess Wenzhao would not stay.

Bisuo didn’t want to see Luojia grieving over this.

How cruel to let him briefly possess what he knew he must lose.

Bisuo looked down at the sword at his waist, sighed deeply, composed his thoughts, and stepped into the thick darkness of night.