Roof tiles disappeared one by one. After creating enough space, a blood-stained blue demon head poked through the opening, constantly sniffing the air inside. Upon catching that long-sought fragrance, he froze for a moment, trembling with joy, immediately enlarged the opening, and silently slipped into the room, crawling down the beams and pillars on all fours without making a sound.
How could she be here?
This room still belonged to the guest hall area, though positioned in a corner, less spacious and luxurious than other meditation chambers. The door and windows were all barred from within—quite securely defended. With no other guards inside, the blue demon lowered his guard, following the scent until he finally found traces of his moon by the window.
From a distance, he could barely make out her specific features, only sensing a pool of bright white light in his blurred vision. He crawled close enough to sniff her entire body carefully, confirming it was indeed Bao Zhu.
She wasn’t resting on the bed but lying on her side, fully clothed, on a narrow chaise lounge, her cheek pillowed on her right palm in the auspicious sleeping posture. She slept peacefully and serenely, like Guanyin reclining on a lotus, with the Fish Intestine sword placed beside her pillow—also serving as illumination.
Why would she sleep so peacefully here? Had she not been imprisoned?
The blue demon felt greatly puzzled. After crawling around her in a circle searching, he discovered a Weituo statue less than a foot tall on the small table beside the chaise lounge.
Ah, so that was it.
She had once sought protection under Weituo’s vajra staff, and he had also earnestly requested this deity of the same surname to guard her. No matter when or where, Weituo always faithfully protected Guanyin, even if she was just an unenlightened young Guanyin. Perhaps because this true guardian deity was present, Bao Zhu had been able to pass this perilous Ghost Festival night safely.
The blue demon squinted his crimson eyes at that small Weituo sculpture. In his blood-hazed vision, he seemed to see Weituo’s mighty and valiant figure growing taller and taller, his peaceful countenance gradually showing fierce diamond-like anger, the indestructible vajra staff seemingly thrusting down toward him.
Were the hallucinations still not gone?
Ah yes, there was still one last enemy remaining… After pondering for a moment, the blue demon suddenly understood why Weituo would have this defensive reaction. At this very moment, a dangerous, bloodthirsty asura was approaching Guanyin, intending to disturb her peaceful sleep.
The three poisons: greed, anger, and delusion. The anger demon had been torn apart by his own hands, the greed demon had his tongue pulled out and his soul departed for the western heaven. The final delusion demon would fall upon himself.
Delusion—being trapped by emotion with no escape, giving rise to false thoughts and evil deeds.
Though tonight’s twisted and distorted inner demon nightmare had begun from poisoning, all the various detailed implications came from his own desires. After his heart was moved, infinite base and vile thoughts arose from his depths, even resorting to evil deeds, wanting to violate and harm her. Even though it was a dream, he had indeed acted upon it.
After killing Guan Chuan and Tan Lin, in this great Chanming Temple, the most dangerous person to her was himself.
Now, it was time to sever the three poisons, eliminate inner demons, and prove his heart and attain enlightenment.
The blue demon quietly took the Fish Intestine sword from beside her pillow, retreated a few steps, and slowly knelt down on both knees.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot up from beneath his knees. Even after being covered in wounds, this heart-piercing, bone-deep agony still made him tremble uncontrollably.
Tan Lin’s sanctimonious appearance and honeyed words meant his account of Chen Shigu’s past might not all be true. However, there was one thing he hadn’t lied about: Chen Shigu and his first disciple indeed disliked kneeling.
Qilin knees—in physiognomy, one of the seven extraordinary bone formations possessed by martial arts prodigies. Sharp bone protrusions below each kneecap. Those with this formation were naturally agile, like startled phoenixes or swimming dragons. With slight guidance, they could master peerless lightness skills.
Chen Shigu had bought him from among the starving refugees precisely because he had the same bone formation characteristics, very suitable for martial arts training. Though the bone formation was excellent, its only drawback was excruciating pain when kneeling, like the torture of broken legs, unbearable. He and Chen Shigu weren’t entirely contemptuous of authority or arrogantly rude—their body structure simply couldn’t kneel.
He still remembered wanting to learn reading and writing as a youth. Despite being severely beaten by his master several times without changing his request, Chen Shigu ordered him to kneel in the corridor, promising to teach him reading if he could persist until dawn.
During the torment, he heard Chen Shigu curse with world-weary cynicism: “Qilin knees—the physiognomy books write this is a heaven-ordained extraordinary formation, only able to kneel before a true dragon emperor. Complete nonsense! I’ve seen a true dragon emperor, and kneeling still hurt like death. These aren’t qilin knees at all, just rebellious bones incompatible with the world! The way of scholarship is to grind down all rebellious bones, squeeze into that bloody thorny path, letting petty men torment and humiliate you. If you want to study, first test whether these legs can persist on that path!”
In the end, he hadn’t knelt for even an hour before fainting from pain. From then on, he never again mentioned wanting to learn reading to his master.
Being young then, he didn’t understand that the “studying” Chen Shigu spoke of wasn’t simply reading, but the imperial examinations and entering officialdom, joining the court. If Tan Lin’s words had even a grain of truth, Chen Shigu had once tried to grind down his rebellious bones and enter a completely foreign world, only because there was someone he didn’t want to leave.
Now, he too had such a person in his heart.
In this saha world, like being in a thorny forest, when the heart moves, people move falsely. Movement wounds the body and pains the bones, thus experiencing all manner of worldly suffering.
Enduring the severe knee pain while kneeling before Bao Zhu to restrain his evil thoughts, Wei Xun drew the Fish Intestine sword and placed the blade beside him. Using dawn as the boundary, if he couldn’t purge his inner demons and prove his body and heart, then the sword would slay the asura.
There never was any subtle Buddhist dharma that could convert an asura body into a guardian deity, unless he himself was willing and achieved enlightenment through repentance.
Dawn’s morning light filtered through the window lattice. Birds chirped as Bao Zhu gradually awakened from deep sleep, feeling she hadn’t slept so soundly since leaving the palace—she hadn’t even had any dreams. Under the pale morning light, the shadow of the Weituo Bodhisattva sculpture reflected in the room, sized like a real armored warrior, bringing a special sense of security.
Bao Zhu yawned, squinting as she curled up on the chaise lounge a while longer. Having rushed about exhaustedly last night, she had planned to rest briefly fully clothed before getting up to continue investigating. Who would have thought she’d sleep straight through until dawn? This small room seemed to possess a barrier—she hadn’t even heard the monks striking the morning bell.
After lingering drowsily in bed for a long time, Bao Zhu discovered a thin blanket covering her. Feeling somewhat strange, the weather wasn’t too cold and she was too tired to remember covering herself with anything before sleeping. She opened her eyes and looked around suspiciously. The room’s furnishings hadn’t changed at all, except for a pool of clear water remaining in front of the chaise lounge. The water traces extended toward the door, as if someone soaking wet had stood here watching her for a while, covered her with the blanket, then left.
Remembering the floating corpse in last night’s liberation pond, this frightened Bao Zhu considerably. She immediately became alert, as she clearly remembered barring all doors and windows for safety before sleeping.
The water traces were about half-dried, suggesting the incident had occurred some time ago. Bao Zhu hurriedly climbed from the couch, put on her shoes, hastily thanked Weituo, and followed the traces toward the door. She wondered puzzledly why these water marks were crooked and unsteady, as if the person passing through had been thoroughly drunk and staggering.
The door bar was indeed open. Bao Zhu cautiously opened a crack and peered out at the courtyard.
A soaking wet youth sat barefoot with dangling feet under the corridor, his dripping long hair unbound and disheveled over his shoulders, as if he had bathed fully clothed in hot springs.
Bao Zhu opened the door in shock, seeing Wei Xun not only completely soaked but covered in wounds. His nose bridge and lips were torn, his hands full of scrapes with not a single patch of intact skin. Though his clothes had been washed clean, his wounds continued bleeding, with two bloodstains on his knees soaking through the fabric again.
He sat in such a bedraggled state guarding outside the door, having fallen asleep leaning against a lotus pillar.
What had happened? Had enemies attacked? Why hadn’t she heard anything?
Bao Zhu quietly approached, catching the faint fresh scent of mint and orange peel from his body—apparently he had washed very thoroughly. Seeing his exhausted sleeping face, Bao Zhu felt infinite tenderness and reached out to cup his face with both hands.
Wei Xun startled awake at the touch, his whole body trembling. His gaze was confused and scattered until his vision refocused on Bao Zhu’s face, whereupon he calmed slightly and tentatively called softly, “Bao Zhu?”
“It’s me. What happened to you?”
Seeing some bloodshot in his bright, clear pupils, Bao Zhu didn’t know what kind of injury he had suffered and felt even more worried.
Having practiced breathing exercises to heal his wounds while proving his heart during the night, his vision and hearing had slightly recovered. Wei Xun stared at Bao Zhu in disbelief for a long time. The early sun shone on her face, every fine hair at her hairline reflecting light, her eyes full of concern. Only then did he confirm this was the real her, not a hallucination.
A strong wave of fatigue and relaxation surged up, mixed with a little grievance. Throughout the night he had called “Bao Zhu” countless times, only now receiving a true response. His indomitable willpower was completely exhausted by now, no longer able to control his heart’s movement. Wei Xun couldn’t help pressing his face against her smooth, soft palm and gently nuzzling.
Bao Zhu felt as if struck hard in the heart by some invisible, formless tremendous force. Her whole person trembled with emotion, feeling a strong impulse to hold him in her arms.
Usually so unruly and defiant, now with injuries on his face and disheveled wet hair, he was pitifully adorable. Though her upbringing forced her to suppress this strange impulse, Bao Zhu felt extremely regretful, thinking how wonderful it would be if he really were a fluffy lynx—she would definitely hold him on her lap, kissing and petting him with loving care.
After indulging in such heart-stirring fantasies for half a day, finally settling her mind from this emotion, Bao Zhu urgently asked, “How exactly did you get injured? Were there enemy attacks?”
Wei Xun sighed. After battling all night with body and mind exhausted, he didn’t know where to begin. First, he needed to resolve the biggest question. He gazed at Bao Zhu and carefully asked, “Could you first answer me one question?”
“What?”
“Why were you sleeping in Shisan Lang’s room?”
Author’s Note:
Da Tang Pi Zhu Ji – Chapter title: The Blue Demon Surrenders After Severing the Three Poisons, Proving Heart and Attaining Enlightenment Through Qilin Knees
The special relationship between qilin and the emperor has existed in China since ancient times. Many modern novels, manga, and films have depicted this, so I won’t elaborate here.
But Old Chen believes these aren’t qilin knees but rebellious bones, because qilin are benevolent beasts, while their master and disciple—one kills countless people, the other never lets grievances pass overnight… Indeed more like rebellious bones—ancient society’s rebellious lone wolf-type heretics. Upper limit: regicide and rebellion; lower limit: using martial arts to violate prohibitions. After all, in feudal society, not kneeling meant not submitting, and not submitting meant rebellion.
(Also the type that can’t be tamed no matter how you raise them, won’t let you pet them—like cats that are nine and a half pounds of stubbornness out of ten pounds total.)
The auspicious sleeping posture is a Buddhist sleeping position with special meaning. Many reclining Buddha images are in this form.
This volume has a religious background, so there are quite a few metaphors and symbols used. You don’t need to understand them all—it doesn’t affect enjoying the story.
More cat literature: In the morning, the cat came home, disheveled and soaking wet fur, quite injured, pitifully meowing softly, looking utterly wronged. You quickly hold it in your arms for hugs and pets with loving care. Then you check the GPS on its collar and find it wandered 100,000 steps in one night and beat up every breathing creature within a ten-li radius.