The Kingdom of Gandhara. The City of Purushapura.

Watched by ten thousand eyes, the second contest began. Xuanzang brought Nashun up onto the high platform and sat once more in that foreign-style chair, with Nashun standing behind him in attendance.

On the high platform, a great fire altar had been erected, inside which a fierce blaze roared. The fuel was coal — the fire was violent, the temperature extreme, and the entire platform was engulfed in scorching waves of heat. The onlookers below were somewhat bewildered. What was this for?

At that moment, a long-robed man with bare feet walked forward. “My humble name is Suhandha. This contest is very simple — whether it is the Venerable Master Xuanzang or the Venerable Master Suomei, one need only follow me in walking a circle upon this fire.”

The moment these words were spoken, the crowd broke into an uproar. The fire was too fierce — a cow thrown into it would likely be roasted through in the time it takes to drink three cups of tea, let alone a person. This was plainly a contest of life and death. But Suhandha merely smiled. “My humble self has already obtained the protection of the fire deity — I may enter water or fire without injury.”

And just like that, Suhandha walked barefoot into the fire altar at an easy pace. The fierce flames instantly enveloped him. But what astonished everyone was that for all the fury of the blaze, it did not even scorch his robes — only his bare feet made a faint sizzling sound as they trod on the burning coal. The crowd was dead silent. Some believers fell to their knees and began to pray softly.

Inside the flames, Suhandha was unable to open his mouth — the fire and the coal fumes had reddened his eyes until they were nearly tearing. He waved toward Xuanzang and Suomei. Xuanzang knitted his brow. “This man is indeed extraordinary. Can you handle him?”

Suomei sighed. “It’s just a pity — this old monk’s clothes won’t survive.”

He chuckled and climbed down from the chair, walked toward the flames, and stepped barefoot into the fire altar. In that instant, every person held their breath, watching intently. They saw Suomei walk into the flames — his monk’s robes immediately charred, then began to burn, transforming into flame-butterflies that fluttered in every direction. Suhandha’s followers immediately cheered, while Suomei’s attendants and maidservants let out cries of horror, as if in mourning. A smile spread across Suhandha’s face — but then it froze. For they saw that though Suomei’s robes had burned away, the man himself was entirely unharmed, strolling through the fire altar and walking straight to face Suhandha, where he pressed his palms together in a deep bow. The two of them stood there wreathed in flames on all sides, facing each other.

“A pity — this fire is still not hot enough. How about we try this old monk’s nameless karmic fire?” With a wave of Suomei’s hand, the flames suddenly changed color, shifting gradually from crimson red to white, the temperature seemingly even higher. Even Xuanzang, standing well away from the fire altar, felt his eyebrows and the skin of his face scorching with heat.

The instant the flames turned white, Suhandha froze for a moment — then suddenly let out a soul-tearing shriek. He ran desperately toward the edge of the fire altar but tripped and fell, rolling in the flames. Amid the cries, in an instant he was burned to charcoal. Suomei pressed his palms together and bowed deeply before the corpse, silently reciting incantations, then walked away unhurriedly.

By this point, he was nearly entirely unclothed. Every stitch of clothing had been reduced to ash, and as a breeze blew past, the ash drifted like butterflies on the wing. A deep silence fell over the crowd. Everyone had been overawed by this supernatural feat.

Damuguo let out a soft sigh, stepped down from his chair, and walked straight to stand beside the two of them. “Today’s contest ends here. At noon tomorrow, I shall personally make my move — I trust that Venerable Suomei will grace us with his instruction.”

After Suomei changed into fresh monk’s robes attended by his maidservants, he fixed his gaze intently on Damuguo. “I have been waiting for you for some time.”

Damuguo gave a slight bow toward Xuanzang, then turned and departed.

The King of Gandhara announced that Xuanzang and Suomei had won the second contest, then ordered the fire altar dismantled. But Suhandha’s followers shoveled away the coal — amid which lay Suhandha’s ashes.

Xuanzang did not return to the royal monastery together with Suomei. He left the high platform and walked in silence through the crowd, with Nashun accompanying him at his side. Though Nashun had lived two lives, he was after all a young man, and was filled with curiosity about all things around him. “Elder Brother, what is really going on here? Does it mean that Suhandha’s deity truly cannot compare to Suomei’s Buddha?”

“It has nothing to do with deities or Buddhas,” Xuanzang said.

Nashun asked in puzzlement, “But Suomei clearly walked into the fire unharmed, while Suhandha could not withstand his karmic fire.”

Xuanzang had been about to explain, but reconsidered, and instead stroked Nashun’s head with a sigh. “Nashun, since you have been reborn an ordinary person in this life, simply live out this existence in carefree ease. This contest of powers is in truth also a kind of warfare, and like any warfare, whatever kind it may be, it is filthy and corrupt at its core. There is no need for you to delve into it.”

“But I really do want to know,” Nashun said.

“Nashun, in your previous life you were able to calculate your way through the cycle of rebirth and evade it for three years — that suggests you must have been a person of great spiritual attainment,” Xuanzang said. “But since you have returned to the mortal world, you should stop dwelling on such things. Come — let us go find Lianhuaye!”

At the mere mention of Lianhuaye, Nashun’s eyes immediately lit up. He agreed over and over, went to the Sogdian merchant’s shop to retrieve his own pouch of gold, slung it over his shoulder, and led Xuanzang toward the pleasure house where Lianhuaye resided.

The pleasure house lay to the north on the eastern side of the city, occupying a very large compound, with layer upon layer of buildings constructed against the hillside. Water had been channeled in from the Kabul River to the north, flowing around the various courtyards, with all varieties of flowering trees and plants planted along both banks of the channel — altogether quite elegant. This was Xuanzang’s first time ever visiting a pleasure house in this life. He looked up and saw that above the entrance hung a stone plaque inscribed with the name “Fragrance Throughout the Land,” the lettering rendered in four scripts: Turkic, Persian, Sanskrit, and Sogdian. Only then did Xuanzang realize — because the transliteration of the name “Gandhara” meant precisely “Fragrance Throughout the Land,” signifying flowers of fragrance filling the earth and their scent spreading across the nation. So they had used the country’s own name as the name of the pleasure house.

Nashun led Xuanzang inside and found the manager, telling him, “Please let Miss Lianhuaye know that Nashun has come.”

The manager looked him over. “Aren’t you that Sogdian who kept lurking about watching Lianhuaye? Have you gathered the five hundred gold pieces?”

“I have,” Nashun produced his pouch of gold.

The manager was delighted, then looked at Xuanzang and grew displeased. “Why have you brought a monk again? No — you’ll need to add another five hundred gold.” Then his eyes focused clearly on Xuanzang’s face, and he froze in astonishment. He fell to the ground in prostration with a thud. “So it is the Great Vehicle of Heaven! Please forgive me, please forgive me! Does the Great Vehicle of Heaven wish to spend the night? This humble one will go immediately and fetch Lianhuaye to attend to you!”

Xuanzang flushed a deep red and quickly stated his purpose. “This humble monk has severed all six sense faculties — he has not come here to…” He thought for a moment and found no words adequate to the situation. “Manager, please do go and ask Lianhuaye to come out. This humble monk has certain matters he wishes to discuss with her. This monk will remain in the front courtyard — he will not go into the rear quarters.”

“Yes, yes. As the Great Vehicle of Heaven commands.” The manager scrambled to his feet and sprinted into the rear quarters.

Xuanzang sighed inwardly. These past few days of the contest, it seemed that Suomei’s effect on the people — as he himself had described it — had indeed reached a degree of reverent terror. Compared with the scene of Xuanzang himself going about with his alms bowl these past several days, this was simply incomparable.

Before long, the entire pleasure house knew that Xuanzang had arrived. Everyone was in a stir — whether courtesans, managers, servants, bodyguards, or clients visiting the establishment, all came one after another to pay their respects. Some even kissed the top of Xuanzang’s feet according to the customs of their own homeland. Xuanzang blessed them one by one and sent them on their way.

At this point the manager returned, and with utmost deference invited the two of them to a quiet domed tower by the riverside, where they were seated and served with fruit and grape juice. Nashun was barely containing his impatience, scratching his head and fidgeting. Xuanzang drank his grape juice in composure. After a short while, from among the flowering trees came a ringing sound like jade and gold chiming, and a young woman of graceful bearing came drifting toward them. She had the complexion and eyes of someone from the Central Plains — milk-pale skin, smooth and fine as silk. Long black hair, eyes dark as lacquer, her gaze flowing and shifting, her black hair dancing in the air — carrying within it an endless quality of gentle charm, like the long expanse of night, like the river of transmigration, drawing one’s very soul and life into it, impossible to escape.

With a clang, the grape cup fell from Nashun’s hand to the ground. He was lost in a daze.

Xuanzang looked at her calmly and said composedly, “Female benefactor, it has been some time since we last met. This humble monk has yet to thank you for the grace of your generosity.”

That Lianhuaye at this moment showed none of the coquettish allure of her appearance on the street that day. She bent in a bow. “Lianhuaye has been presumptuous — please grant your forgiveness, Great Vehicle of Heaven.”

“You two know each other?” Nashun was stunned.

Lianhuaye paid him no attention, and walked directly to kneel beside Xuanzang. She poured a cup of grape juice for him, raised it with both hands, bowed her head, and held it before him. Xuanzang took it and drank in silence. Nashun paid no heed to Lianhuaye’s indifference and smiled delightedly, placing his pouch of gold on the stone table. “Lianhuaye, look — I’ve gathered five hundred gold pieces.”

“Then tonight you may come and indulge yourself to your satisfaction,” Lianhuaye said flatly.

Nashun’s face turned red. “It’s not like that, Lianhuaye. My devotion and admiration for you is like a son’s love for his mother…”

“You spent five hundred gold to become my son?” Lianhuaye asked.

Nashun was at a complete loss for words, shaking all over with urgency. He simply upended the pouch of gold, and five hundred gold coins cascaded with a clatter onto the table. “Lianhuaye, my love for you is genuine. These past two months, I sold my caravan, sold all my goods, even sold the ancestral home, and borrowed from every friend and family member I could find, to scrape together these five hundred gold pieces. My intentions toward you are not improper — I only ask to spend a quiet moment with you. I want to talk with you. I want to look at your face and breathe in your presence…” He didn’t know how to express himself and broke into sobs. “Lianhuaye, I truly love you. I don’t wish to be in such torment either. But why is it that from the moment I was born into this world, your shadow is everywhere? From when I was three years old, whether I open my eyes or close them, it is you. I don’t know why it should be so — is it a bond forged in a past life? Yet I know this is an entanglement of life itself. I am destined in this life to have come for you, and there is no escaping it.”

Lianhuaye made no reply, her expression cold and indifferent.

Xuanzang sighed. “Lianhuaye, have you already learned about Nashun’s situation?”

“Yes, Master.” Lianhuaye said respectfully. “Two months ago, he came looking for me and said some wild things. These sorts of people and situations I encounter often. When I receive clients, I look only at whether they have five hundred gold pieces — apart from that, there is no other reason that could make me show even the slightest warmth to any man, not even a king. The manager had him driven away, yet he kept following me day after day. Eventually I had no choice but to tell him to go and gather five hundred gold.”

“Why did you set the nightly fee at five hundred gold?” Xuanzang asked.

“If one loathes men yet cannot escape one’s fate, and must please others with one’s appearance — don’t you think that is the simplest way?” Lianhuaye said.

Xuanzang nodded. “Lianhuaye, this humble monk has no interest in the romantic entanglements of the world between men and women. It is only that Nashun’s situation and your own involves past lives and present lives, the six paths of rebirth — and since Nashun is a person from my past, this monk wished to come and probe into the matter.”

“What do past lives and present lives have to do with me?” Lianhuaye laughed coldly. “People like this I have seen in abundance. They come from every land, drawn by reputation, yet unable to produce five hundred gold — as countless as the sands of the Ganges. They all say: ‘O Lianhuaye, I fell in love with you in a past life — please let me spend one night with you free of charge.’ This friend of yours, young as he is, has quite the skill in approaching a courtesan.”

“Lianhuaye——” Nashun wanted to speak. Xuanzang stopped him and said gently, “Lianhuaye, bonds of destiny are not something Nashun alone can bring into being. In the view of our Buddhist faith, all sentient beings are originally pure. Yet in a past life, a single stirring of a deluded thought gives rise to the karma of the present life. Where there is karma, there is a consciousness entering the womb; where there is a consciousness entering the womb, there is the embryo of this life; where there is an embryo, there come the six faculties — eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. Upon leaving the womb, there is the you of this life and the him of this present age. In the world one encounters all manner of feelings; where there are feelings, one comes to know love; where one knows love, one becomes attached; where one is attached, one reaches out to take; where one reaches out to take, there arises the entanglement of this life. Lianhuaye, the entanglements of desire in this life, this humble monk does not understand and will not inquire about. What this monk seeks to observe is your past lives, present life, and future lives within the six paths of rebirth — only in this way can the two of you be dust returned to dust and earth returned to earth, freed forever from the suffering of sinking into oblivion. And this is precisely what this humble monk promised Nashun to do.”

Lianhuaye was silent for a long while. Xuanzang looked at her steadily.

“Great Vehicle of Heaven, is the fate of this present life already arranged?” she asked.

Xuanzang nodded. “Perhaps so.”

“If that is the case, what use is it for you to look upon this cycle of six paths of rebirth? I need only follow the guidance of fate, moving silently forward under the guiding light of Buddhist lamps and ghost-fires.” Lianhuaye stood up. “Great Vehicle of Heaven, this humble woman still has nightly fees to earn. I take my leave. Nashun——”

Nashun quickly stood up, smiling ingratiating. “Lianhuaye…”

Lianhuaye said, “Since you have brought five hundred gold, tonight I am yours — let you have your heart’s desire fulfilled. But after tonight, between you and me it will be as between ocean and cosmos, as between the vast sea and the stars — never to meet again. Not even in the next life should you come looking for me. Come.”

She turned and walked away calmly. Nashun stood frozen in place, then drifted after her in a daze, walked a few steps, then stopped, and burst into sobs. “Lianhuaye, I don’t want to pass you by just like this. I want you in this lifetime!”

Lianhuaye gave no reply. Her graceful figure disappeared among the flowering trees and into the pavilion. Nashun’s face was streaked with tears.

Xuanzang stood up. “Nashun — come, let us go.”

Xuanzang walked out in silence. Nashun tearfully gathered his gold coins and followed behind him. The two left the Fragrance Throughout the Land pleasure house and returned to the Kanishka Royal Monastery. Suomei was meditating on a boulder. He had folded and wrapped his entire body into a strange contorted posture and sat there perfectly still.

“Elder Brother,” Nashun said, “can you help me?”

Xuanzang brooded in silence for a long while before saying, “Nashun, Lianhuaye knows more than you do.”

“What?” Nashun was startled. “Knows more — what do you mean?”

Xuanzang said, “Regarding the causes and conditions of the bond of fate between the two of you, she already knows — she is only concealing it from you and me.”

Nashun said in astonishment, “How would she know? Elder Brother, can I go and ask her directly? I’ll give her my five hundred gold coins — not to spend the night with me, only to tell me the reason.”

Xuanzang shook his head. “It’s not that simple. You stay here for now. This humble monk will go out for a walk.”

After Xuanzang left the royal monastery, he did not return for an entire night. Nashun was ultimately a young man — at first he waited and waited, but then could no longer hold out. His head drooped to one side, and he fell asleep. When he woke, it was already broad daylight, and Xuanzang was before him, handing him a water pouch. “Awake? Here, have some water — eat something. The third contest will be starting soon.”

“Elder Brother, where did you go last night?” Nashun asked as he ate.

Xuanzang said, “Last night I went to many places, found everyone connected to Lianhuaye and questioned them carefully. I now know the full story of her background.”

Nashun was instantly dumbstruck. “Elder Brother, what is her background exactly?”

Xuanzang’s expression held a trace of sorrow. “She too is a person of bitter fortune. Do you know of the Kingdom of Subi?”

“The Eastern Women’s Kingdom in the great snowy mountains?” Nashun said. “I know of it, though I have never been.”

“She is from the Kingdom of Subi,” Xuanzang said.

This Kingdom of Subi was called by the people of India “Suvarnagotra,” meaning the Golden Clan in translation. It lay within the Himalaya mountains, its climate cold, bordering the Kingdom of Tibet to the east, the Kingdom of Khotan to the north, and the Kingdom of Samboha to the west. Within the country they grew winter wheat and herded sheep and horses, and the country was rich in gold and salt. Most importantly, this was a matriarchal state — women held the title of ruler, and from the smallest family matters to the greatest affairs of state, all was determined by women, while men were responsible only for farming and warfare. Even the husband of the queen could not interfere with governance. Thus the people of the Han called it the Eastern Women’s Kingdom. The Kingdom of Subi revered shamanic practices and divined by birds — its language and customs were similar to those of India, and it frequently conducted trade with the various kingdoms of India.

But in recent years, a great matter had transpired. The most visionary and heroic Tsenpo in Tibetan history, Songtsen Gampo, had ascended to the throne at the age of only thirteen. After assuming the throne, Songtsen Gampo moved the capital to Lhasa, governed with diligence and determination, and quelled the internal strife. Several years later he led his armies westward, conquered the Kingdom of Zhangzhung, and shared a border with the Kingdom of Subi. He thereupon dispatched a great army, broke through the Kingdom of Subi, and forced the Kingdom of Subi to migrate westward. In the chaos of this national destruction and flight, Lianhuaye was taken captive by marauding soldiers and subsequently sold by the army to a merchant, who brought her along when he came to India.

At first, Lianhuaye was taken in by the merchant as a concubine. But her looks were too striking, and the merchant’s wife grew jealous of her and mistreated her, selling her behind the merchant’s back to a traveling trader. This trader brought her to Tokharistan, where he went bankrupt, and out of necessity sold her to a pleasure house to cover his losses.

From that point on, Lianhuaye drifted through multiple pleasure houses in the Tokharistan region. One year ago, she was purchased by the Fragrance Throughout the Land pleasure house in the royal city of Gandhara, and there she settled.

Nashun heard the full account of Lianhuaye’s experience and could not hold back a wailing cry. “Elder Brother, why was I not born a few years earlier, so I could have protected her properly! Why did she have to suffer such a wretched fate! When I think of those three years in the mountains of Heluo when I hid from the cycle of rebirth — how foolish that was! Had I known what was to come, I should have taken my own life ten years earlier, to come into this life sooner, to find Lianhuaye, and to keep her from enduring this kind of fate!”

Xuanzang didn’t quite know how to comfort him. “Nashun, some things that are fixed by fate cannot be changed. So long as you treat her well in this life and find happiness together — that is enough.”

“Elder Brother, I will certainly treat her well,” Nashun said, wiping away his tears. “But she resists me so strongly!”

Xuanzang smiled ruefully. “Lianhuaye is deeply guarded against people — you can only go about it slowly and gradually. Come — the third contest is about to begin.”

Yi hour, morning. The month of Vaisakha.

The weather was growing warm. On the high platform of the royal palace, the sun was directly overhead. Xuanzang and Suomei sat in their chairs, quietly waiting for the final contest. On the opposing side, only four people remained — the other two had died in the two previous contests. Three of the four looked at Suomei with fear on their faces, but Damuguo’s expression was tranquil.

The King of Gandhara in the center was about to announce the beginning, when suddenly from the eastern gate came the thunder of hoofbeats like muffled rumbling. From the vantage of the high platform, they could see a cavalry force of three hundred sweeping in like a gale. The gate guards were caught entirely off guard, and the gates were immediately seized by these riders. Then, escorted by the cavalry, a massive imperial carriage drawn by sixteen fine horses slowly rolled in through the city gate.

The battlements immediately rang out with the urgent blaring of horns, and the royal city’s garrison troops poured out, forming ranks along the main street and moving to intercept. The King of Gandhara walked to the edge of the high platform, his face grave. He was just about to give the order when Damuguo stepped forward slowly.

“Your Majesty, please have no concern — it is Yazdegerd III who has come to pay a visit, with no hostile intent,” Damuguo said.

The King of Gandhara was taken aback and said angrily, “If Yazdegerd III wished to come, why did he not send a formal state letter to inform Us? Instead he sends cavalry to seize the city gates?”

Damuguo said mildly, “The emperor’s life is worth ten thousand in gold. He worried that a leak of information might attract the prying eyes of lawless persons. Should the emperor come to any harm within the royal city, your position would be even worse than it is now.”

The King of Gandhara smiled coldly and said nothing further. He understood perfectly well that this was the Persians giving him a show of force. But he was not worried — for though the Persians might take refuge in Gandhara’s territory, the moment they attempted to seize the royal city, it would inevitably ignite the fury of Tokharistan, or even the Western Turks, and the six hundred thousand Persian elderly and young would be slaughtered. Yazdegerd III had the Rashidun forces pressing from behind and India blocking his path ahead — unless he had lost his mind, he would not dare offend the masters of this land.

The King of Gandhara transmitted orders below, explaining the situation. The terrified people around them calmed down and automatically stepped to both sides of the road, clearing a path for the Persian cavalry. Xuanzang also walked to the edge of the high platform and looked out. He could see that the newcomers were all Persian heavy cavalry — known as the Immortals, also called the Ten Thousand Undying. This was the most elite force of the Persian Empire. Their standard equipment consisted of armor, a breastplate, helmet, greaves, arm guards, spear, small round shield, sword, mace, battle axe, a quiver of thirty arrows, a bow case and two bows, and two spare bowstrings. Even the horses were fitted with iron armor. The cavalry seemed entirely encased in steel — only the eyes were exposed, armed to the very teeth. Because of this they were also called the Iron Canister Corps. At the height of the prosperous Sasanian Persian Empire’s power, the entire state’s resources could produce only a single ten-thousand-man corps. Any soldier killed, seriously wounded, or gravely ill was immediately replaced by a new soldier, keeping the numbers perpetually unchanged — seemingly undying — and thus the corps earned its name the Immortals.

However, in the repeated battles against the Rashidun forces, the Immortals had suffered grievous casualties, and with Persia’s current national strength it was impossible to maintain the ten-thousand-man scale. Only three thousand cavalry remained. But these, the finest of the finest, were Yazdegerd III’s most powerful deterrent against every nation. On this occasion Yazdegerd III had brought only six hundred cavalry, yet as this torrent of steel moved down the main street — iron armor reflecting sunlight, hoofbeats like thunder, the armor plates clanking — it delivered to the people of Gandhara the most commanding visual shock imaginable. Even the King of Gandhara on the high platform could not help but change color at the sight.

The King of Gandhara understood full well that although Sasanian Persia had collapsed, it had ultimately been a great nation with a national lineage of four centuries and territories extending tens of thousands of li. This corps of three thousand Immortals alone could sweep through ten or more of the surrounding smaller nations. Certainly they were not worth mentioning compared with great nations like the Rashidun Caliphate, India, the Western Turks, and the Great Tang — but even his own suzerain state of Tokharistan would likely need to mobilize its full national forces before it could stand against Yazdegerd III.

At this point, Yazdegerd III’s great carriage arrived at the foot of the high platform. An attendant came out of the carriage, carrying a document, and ascended the high platform to read aloud Yazdegerd III’s expressions of respect and goodwill toward the King of Gandhara. The King of Gandhara then took the opportunity to go with the flow, descending the platform in person to welcome him. Yazdegerd III came down from the imperial carriage. He wore a golden crown and held a golden scepter, and exchanged pleasantries with the King of Gandhara — both wearing expressions of measured restraint. The King of Gandhara then invited Yazdegerd III up onto the high platform, had an additional royal seat added beside his own in the place of highest honor, and invited him to be seated.

The King of Gandhara introduced each of the five contest participants to Yazdegerd III in turn, specially introducing Xuanzang and Suomei. Yazdegerd III was a refined and gentle young man. He greeted each person in turn, though he was noticeably cool toward Suomei — but the old monk paid it no mind.

Yazdegerd III walked to stand before Xuanzang and revealed a smile. “Is the Master from the Great Tang Empire?”

“Indeed,” Xuanzang said, pressing his palms together.

“I hear that you and the emperor of your honored country are on familiar terms?” Yazdegerd III asked.

Xuanzang considered for a moment. “This humble monk once shared a difficult experience with His Majesty. As for being on familiar terms — I would not presume to say so.”

Yazdegerd III sighed with deep feeling. “Even decades spent together in sweetness cannot compare to enduring hardship side by side and supporting each other through it. The Master surely knows of our own circumstances — since our empire collapsed and we found ourself adrift in foreign lands, countless persons whom we had once trusted have abandoned us. So it is that to this day, we have finally come to understand: those who help us in adversity and hardship are the ones who deserve our eternal gratitude.”

“Your Majesty speaks truly,” Xuanzang replied. He was reluctant to use his acquaintance with Li Shimin to fraternize with these rulers and kings, but it was precisely this that Yazdegerd III found interesting.

“Master, four years ago we dispatched an embassy to Chang’an to visit the Emperor of the Great Tang,” Yazdegerd III said. “We hoped he would send troops to help us resist the Rashidun Caliphate. Unexpectedly, however, we were refused by the Tang Emperor. In the state letter he sent in reply he wrote: ‘That one ruler should come to the rescue of another is naturally as it should be. Yet from our own envoy’s lips we have heard in full detail what manner of people the Rashidun are — their customs, their faith, and the character of their leaders. A people of such loyalty and faithfulness, with leaders of such capability — how could they possibly fail to prevail? Let your nation diligently cultivate virtue and be careful in conduct, so as to win their goodwill.'”

Yazdegerd III actually recited the contents of the state letter from several years ago word for word without missing a single character — clearly he had long since engraved this matter upon his very bones and heart.

“Master, since you and the Tang Emperor are acquainted, perhaps you might shed some light on what our emperor’s thinking actually was?” Yazdegerd III bowed deeply. “We beg the Master to point us toward enlightenment.”

Here, just as the contest was about to begin, he suddenly turned to consult Xuanzang on matters of state policy. Everyone was astonished, but the King of Gandhara understood — this was likely the true purpose behind Yazdegerd III’s personal appearance here. He wished to see with his own eyes this eminent monk from the Great Tang, and hear with his own ears what the character of the Tang Emperor Li Shimin was truly like.

Xuanzang considered carefully. “Judging from the wording of the state letter, our emperor was not actually unwilling to come to your aid.”

“Oh?” Yazdegerd III became agitated; a flush of color rose onto his pallid face. He gripped Xuanzang’s hand. “Master, please continue!”

“Our emperor considered that he could rescue you — however, the disparity in strength between the Rashidun Caliphate and Persia is too great, and sending troops would not accomplish much. Furthermore, the Great Tang and Persia are separated by the Western Turks, and at present our emperor is directing military operations against the Western Turks. Without first bringing the Western Turks under control, the arm is too short to reach. Therefore His Majesty believed that the first thing you must do is find every possible means to preserve yourself in the face of the Rashidun offensive, and wait for a day when circumstances improve,” Xuanzang said.

Yazdegerd III fell into deep thought. Among the world’s great powers at present, Sasanian Persia had long been in a state of tension with the Byzantine Empire and the Western Turks. The Byzantine Empire was also under attack from the Rashidun Caliphate; the Western Turks were simultaneously embroiled in civil war and being pressed step by step by the Great Tang — neither nation could possibly come to his aid. As for King Harsha of India, he was already in his advanced years, lacking the drive to advance and with insufficient national strength; so long as he could hold the line of the Indus River and keep the empire from being invaded by foreign peoples, that was enough. What was more, Yazdegerd III had designs on India — Harsha would be even less likely to help him.

In all the world, the only top-tier great empire stronger than the Rashidun Caliphate, the only one that could help Persia, was the Great Tang alone.

But unfortunately, as Xuanzang had said, between Yazdegerd III and the Great Tang stood the Western Turks. Before the Great Tang subdued the Western Turks, it would be entirely impossible to provide him with effective assistance.

Nevertheless, Xuanzang’s analysis gave Yazdegerd III great hope — for over the years they had read and reread this state letter from every angle, and the majority of those around him believed the final lines indicated that Li Shimin was telling them to submit to the Rashidun Caliphate. This had plunged Yazdegerd III into despair without limit, and it was for this reason that he had thrown caution to the winds and forced the crossing of the Indus River, even at the risk of opening war with two great empires simultaneously. The words Xuanzang spoke opened to him in an instant an entirely different kind of hope.

Color rose to Yazdegerd III’s face, and the dejection in his expression began to give way to vitality. He bowed deeply to Xuanzang. “Many thanks to the Master for this guidance. There are still important matters for the Master today — at another time we will come in person to seek instruction from the Master, and we trust the Master will not refuse.”

Xuanzang nodded his assent, and the two of them each returned to their own seats. Damuguo was also nearby, and had heard every word of their exchange clearly. He could not help curling his lips — if he won, this monk would have his head cut off, and who would the emperor have to seek counsel from? But if he lost, the Zoroastrian faith would have to leave Gandhara. What a situation this was!

The King of Gandhara saw that the two had finished their conversation and announced the beginning of the third contest.

Damuguo was first to stand. He walked to the center of the high platform and chanted an ancient invocation: “Oh, Ahura Mazda! At the beginning of the world you created our souls; from your nature, you granted us wisdom, and placed life within our forms.” After finishing, he called out loudly, “Today I shall reveal a miracle of the Creator. Every flame contains a solitary soul, and in the guidance of the sacred fire, it will return from the depths of darkness to tell the story of its time in the underworld.”

Damuguo extended both arms and began reciting incantations. Suddenly a tongue of flame appeared on each of his hands. Cries of astonishment rose from the watching crowd. With a sweep of his hand, one tongue of flame flew up into the air, swaying as it passed over the crowd and disappeared from sight. Then with another sweep, the second tongue of flame also passed over the crowd and disappeared. Damuguo continued reciting incantations without pause, flames appearing on his hands one after another. His hands fluttered like butterflies — flames dancing, disappearing in every direction.

“In the radiance and guidance of the sacred fire — return, O departed ones!” Damuguo sang out once, then fell silent, and turned and walked back to his seat.

Everyone was bewildered. They looked in all directions — not a stir. Even Xuanzang and Suomei were somewhat puzzled. Then, suddenly, from the desolate ground to the southwest of the city, a figure came running over, shouting as he ran, terror all over his face. Being too far away, no one could hear what he was saying.

Those on the high platform watched from a distance, and saw below what seemed like a stone dropped into the edge of a pond — the disturbance spread rapidly through the entire crowd, and everyone ran toward the southwest. In moments, the area beneath the high platform was nearly empty of people.

“What is going on?” The King of Gandhara frowned.

A palace attendant immediately ran down to inquire, and came back up a moment later with an exceptionally troubled look on his face. “Your Majesty, the burial mounds on the slope to the southwest — they have exploded.”

Everyone was taken aback and stared at Damuguo together. Damuguo was entirely at ease, smiling faintly. “All of you, please remain calm — all will be clear in a moment.”

Everyone grew even more curious. Craning their necks to look toward the direction where the crowd had surged, sure enough, in a moment the crowd let out a great collective cry, pulling back like a retreating tide, every face marked with terror. The attendant who had followed to investigate came sprinting back and screamed, “They’ve come back to life! The corpses in the graves have come back to life!”

To the southwest of the royal city lay a vast stretch of wasteland where the dead of the city were mostly buried — grave mounds crowded together, wild grass growing thick, foxes and rabbits running about freely. Every evening it was dark and eerie, ghost-fires flickering and ghosts wailing, but in the daytime it was ordinarily nothing remarkable. Yet this very day, as Damuguo swept his hands and those flame-bearing souls dispersed outward, there in the midst of those burial mounds, suddenly a fresh grave burst open. A rotting arm broke through the earth from underground.

The arm was in a state of half-decay — on one side the flesh still clung, on the other only white bone remained. It thrust out through the earth and stiffened for a moment, then the five fingers suddenly began to move. Immediately another arm broke through as well. Through rolling soil, a skull, shoulders, a torso — a corpse slowly struggled its way out. The corpse’s face was also half-rotted; the lips had completely decomposed, baring white teeth beneath. It slowly opened its eyes and stared around blankly, then looked at the people before it.

The crowd gazed in horror. Ghastly as this corpse was, in broad daylight and with so many people around, no one was quite overwhelmed by it. But then something truly terrifying occurred — the burial mounds all around began to burst open one after another, and corpse after corpse crawled out from the graves. In the blink of an eye there were already several dozen of them. The corpses were in varying states of decay — some fresh, some fully rotted, some half-decomposed — their clothing long since rotted away in the earth and hanging from them in tatters. They moved slowly, walking, pressing toward the crowd.

As the crowd pulled back, some people fell, some ran too slowly. Those who lagged behind were immediately caught in the midst of the reanimated corpses. A corpse pressed a person down and bit savagely — tearing with hands and gnawing with teeth, a living person was reduced to a bloody, unrecognizable mass in an instant. The crowd had never witnessed such a horrifying sight and immediately scattered in screaming, running, shoving chaos — as if heaven and earth had come apart.

The Persian Immortal cavalry rushed forward quickly, forming a wall of steel, letting the crowd pass through while blocking the reanimated corpses. At the command of their commander, six hundred heavy cavalry stretched out their spears in unison — three-meter-long lances that were like densely packed fangs — and thrust them toward the walking dead.

With a thud, a spear pierced through a corpse’s body, then was pulled back, then thrust again. Six hundred spears struck and stabbed at thirty reanimated corpses from all sides, dense and relentless, producing dull thudding sounds, fouled blood spattering everywhere. Yet these reanimated corpses suffered not the slightest damage — some had been pierced completely through yet still moved freely!

Even the Immortal cavalry’s color changed at this.

Up on the high platform, everyone stood along the edge watching. Each face was pale. All eyes turned to Damuguo. Damuguo walked slowly forward, gazing calmly at Suomei. “This is my dharma. This is my art.”

Everyone on the high platform turned their gaze to Suomei. Even Xuanzang knitted his brow tightly. Suomei looked out from afar at the cluster of walking dead, and said with a mild smile, “So-called walking corpses are things of shadow and corruption. The Buddhist dharma illuminates the entire world of suffering — it can certainly break them.”

The King of Gandhara asked urgently, “How do we break it?”

Suomei said, “The dharma technique is easy to break — the dharma instrument is difficult to find. Your Majesty, if you can supply everything required, I will break it before your very eyes.”

“Please speak, Master — whatever instrument is needed, this king will provide it,” the King of Gandhara declared.

Suomei said, “I need a large drum. Strip the skin from the chests of sixteen young girls, stitch it together to form the yin face of the drum; then strip the skin from the chests of sixteen young boys, stitch it together to form the yang face of the drum. Then with one sheng of heart’s blood from a man born at the second watch of dawn, paint talismans on the yin face of the drum; with one sheng of heart’s blood from a woman born at the second watch of night, paint talismans on the yang face of the drum. After that, chop off the shinbone of an elderly person and use it as the drumstick. This old monk will strike it, and the walking dead will naturally dissolve into a pool of pus and blood.”

Everyone who heard this turned pale, unable to suppress a shudder. This dharma technique was too vicious and wicked — to offer human bones and blood as sacrifice. Xuanzang was even more shocked and horrified. “Suomei, what are you talking about! Where in the Buddhist teaching is there any such malicious technique!”

“The dharma methods of the world are myriad and endlessly changing — how much could you know of them?” Suomei said coldly.

The King of Gandhara’s expression also darkened. “My Kingdom of Gandhara is an honorable and magnificent land of light — how can it employ a method that causes such harm to living beings! Speak no more of this!”

“Wait!” But Damuguo laughed coldly. “Suomei, could it be that you cannot break my technique, and you are simply talking nonsense? You knew perfectly well that His Majesty could never agree to conditions like this — it is a convenient excuse for you to escape this ordeal!”

Suomei laughed coldly. “You don’t know the meaning of death. Very well — this old monk does happen to have this very drum with him. You need only provide the heart’s blood of the men and women, and the shinbone of an elderly person, and I will break your sorcery!”

He gave instructions to his attendants, and two attendants returned to the royal monastery — and sure enough, brought back a large drum. The drum’s skin surface was criss-crossed with dozens of stitched seams. Counting carefully, there were indeed sixteen sheets of skin! Everyone’s scalp crawled as they looked at it — knowing that this was what Suomei had made from the chest skin of sixteen boys and sixteen girls, there was a wave of revulsion.

Damuguo’s face turned iron grey. He bowed to the King of Gandhara. “May we borrow the condemned prisoners in His Majesty’s gaols! For each prisoner, Sasanian Persia will compensate their family one hundred gold pieces!”

Xuanzang grew agitated and rushed over to intervene. “This must not be allowed. This is an act of cruelty that harms living beings — after death, they will fall into the Hell of Unceasing Suffering! This humble monk would rather forfeit the contest — strike off this humble monk’s head!”

Damuguo laughed coldly. “Master, the lives of all beings come from Ahura Mazda. If it can prove the miracles of Ahura Mazda, then all beings die without resentment. Since he wants to make a sacrifice of human life, then let us see what he is capable of!”

Xuanzang appealed again to the King of Gandhara. The King of Gandhara found himself in an impossible position and looked at Yazdegerd III. “Your Majesty, your thoughts on this…?”

Yazdegerd III said mildly, “We too should like to see.”

The King of Gandhara had no choice, and instructed his attendants to go to the prison and bring three condemned prisoners. Xuanzang was still moving to stop them. Yazdegerd III stood and walked to stand before him, lowering his voice. “Master, your compassion is known to us. But at this moment, this contest cannot be stopped. We believe Buddhism has nothing to do with this person — this person has learned some wicked technique from who knows where, and has come to desecrate the world of light. Yet if we do not press the contest to its conclusion, does that mean the light cannot overcome evil? Does it mean the sacred fire cannot illuminate filth? Master — since they are condemned prisoners, they must have done something deserving of death. Even if they do not die today, in time they will each have their heads taken by a blade. What is more, dying now means their families will receive one hundred gold pieces. If there are sick, elderly, or young people in those families, this can provide for them properly.”

Xuanzang was silent for a long moment, then let out a long sigh and looked at Suomei. “After today, you and I go our separate ways.”

“The six paths of rebirth roll onward like a great wheel. After today, no one can ever stop its turning again. You may kill this old monk for all it matters,” Suomei said with a smile.

Xuanzang fell silent, walked to stand before the King of Gandhara, and murmured something in a low voice. The King of Gandhara showed a look of surprise, but nodded, and instructed his attendants to take an edict with a company of soldiers to the condemned prisoners’ cells, where they brought out three condemned prisoners — one man, one woman, and one elderly person — and escorted them up onto the high platform.

Suomei inquired about the birth times of the two men and women, and once confirmed with certainty, ordered men holding curved blades to cut open their chests. Heart’s blood flew — Suomei had long since had his attendants hold bronze bowls ready to collect the fresh blood. He then used a mouse-tail brush dipped in the blood to draw talismans in long strokes across the drum surface. He then ordered men to chop off the elderly person’s two legs and extract the shinbones, scrape them clean, and fashion them into two drumsticks.

The entire scene was extraordinarily bloody, too painful to watch. Xuanzang sat to one side, his expression anguished, silently reciting the rebirth incantation. Damuguo and the others wore cold smiles, looking on with contempt.

At this time, under the cover of the Immortal cavalry, soldiers of Gandhara brought in deer-antler barriers to form a line of field works. The Immortal cavalry stationed their horses behind the deer-antler barriers and used their long spears to hold back the enemy. The reanimated corpses clawed and scraped furiously at this line of works but could not break through. Soldiers and commoners stood within the barriers, shaking with terror. Suomei stood on the high platform, positioned the great drum, and struck it mightily — with a resonant boom, those reanimated corpses suddenly shuddered, looks of panic appearing on their faces.

Suomei began to beat the great drum. The thunderous drumming shook heaven and earth, yet carried through it a ceaseless aura of grim eeriness. By now the commoners had all learned the origin of this drum, and one by one their faces filled with terror. Then, watching the reactions of the reanimated corpses, they could not help but be astonished. The reanimated corpses, one after another, let out rasping shrieks. They clawed and scratched at themselves, then began tearing and biting at one another — flesh and blood flying everywhere. One corpse had its neck bitten through, gave one full-body convulsion, and suddenly erupted in raging flames, and in an instant was reduced to ash.

These reanimated corpses, in the process of slaughtering one another, burst into flames one by one — like dozens of human-shaped torches being lit in sequence. In the blink of an eye, every last one had been turned to charcoal.