The north wind howled as snow danced in the air.

Tanmoluojia chose to disperse his power in the temple’s punishment hall – the place where he had been imprisoned as a child. The temple’s warrior monks all rushed to their positions, sharp blades glinting, forming three rings inside and three rings outside the punishment hall under the leadership of the newly appointed temple master.

Li Zhongqian frowned: “Why do so many people need to guard the punishment hall?”

The temple master sighed and said: “It was the King’s order. Last time when the King rushed back to the Holy City, he was almost exactly like General Saisanger before he went berserk and began slaughtering people. If Princess Wenzhao hadn’t arrived, the King wouldn’t have lasted until today… If the King also loses control, we must contain him within the temple, which is why he chose to disperse his power in the punishment hall.”

Bisuo added from the side: “Duke of Wei, rest assured. If such a thing happens, these warrior monks will only contain the King, they won’t harm him.”

The blade that Poluoliuzhi had left him had already been blunted in the great battle defending the Holy City. He and Yuanjue were destined to be unable to follow their master’s instructions – whether Tanmoluojia harmed others or not, they could never raise their hands against him.

The physicians had also arrived, waiting outside the punishment hall. The Tianzhu medical officials were still constantly searching through ancient texts, hoping to find more records about Tianzhu’s secret methods to discover remedial prescriptions from them.

When General Saisanger went mad and killed people years ago, the palace burned all related records. This time the palace had become ruins, and during the reconstruction of the halls, Yaoying ordered craftsmen to first search the storerooms for collected ancient texts and invited all the monks and merchants in the city who understood Sanskrit to help the medical officials search through potentially useful classics and scriptures.

She wanted to accompany Tanmoluojia in the punishment hall, but he shook his head, telling her to wait outside: “This time is different from before. You would get hurt.”

Yuanjue went in to watch over him while Bisuo kept an eye on Yaoying outside.

Yaoying had accompanied Tanmoluojia during his previous attempts to disperse his power, but none had been as torturous as this time. Whenever things grew quiet, she wanted to rush into the punishment hall.

Others didn’t know, but she alone knew – in the books, Tanmoluojia’s destined lifespan had come to an end.

She told herself that she had saved Li Zhongqian, saved Xie Manyuan, saved Yang Qian and those loyal, passionate noble sons, saved countless displaced citizens who were worse than dead in these chaotic times – surely Tanmoluojia’s fate must have been rewritten as well.

But there could be exceptions…

Yaoying was deeply anxious, her heart seized and twisted by an invisible hand as if cut by knives and swords, her whole body cold. She took off the prayer beads from her wrist, knelt in the stone cave, and silently recited the Buddhist sutras Tanmoluojia had taught her.

He believed in these, so she would ask his faith to protect him, to let him safely overcome this tribulation.

The golden Buddha statue stood solemn and quiet, silently gazing down at her.

Outside the punishment hall, all the monks gathered in the main hall, chanting prayers. The temple’s front hall corridors, square, and the long streets outside the temple were packed with crowds. People who had rushed here from various regions knelt in the snowmen and women, old and young, devoutly kowtowing and praying for blessings for their king. Only those who had struggled to survive in these chaotic times truly understood how precious a benevolent ruler who cared for his people was.

In later historical records, the chaotic times would be merely a few words, but for them, it was the reality of countless millions of lives.

Some wore fine silk, others were in tatters; some had red hair and brown eyes, others black hair and black eyes, and still others pale skin and blue eyes. Prayers in different languages repeated endlessly in the bitter wind, like countless small streams throughout the kingdom, crossing over towering mountains and gathering into a vast ocean, carrying an unstoppable magnificent force that shook heaven and earth.

…

Tanmoluojia couldn’t hear the prayers outside the temple.

As he dispersed his power completely, every muscle in his body tensed, his flesh twisting in pain inch by inch, as if someone was taking a knife and cutting through his flesh slice by slice. All the horrific tortures described in the scriptures about entering hell – being cut into thousands of pieces, being fried in oil, and burned by fire – were no worse than this.

Pain.

Intense pain.

Pain that made him shake violently.

Skin splitting and flesh tearing, heart-wrenching and liver-splitting pain that cut to the bone.

It was as if bolts of heavenly lightning struck him directly, stripping away his flesh layer by layer, revealing snow-white bones beneath, pain that penetrated his very marrow.

From his skin and flesh to his internal organs, to his bone joints, there wasn’t a single place that didn’t hurt.

He was conscious of the suffering throughout his body, but his mind gradually grew hazy, his soul separating from his mangled body, drifting aimlessly.

Suddenly, a force pulled him down endlessly, sinking deeper and deeper until he was submerged in boundless darkness and cold. Horrifying scenes forced themselves before his eyes – seven iron cities, seven layers of iron nets, each extending ten thousand li in every direction. The walls on all sides were either burning-hot iron walls or gleaming blade mountains. Iron fire fell like rain, turning sinners to ash; blade wheels spun, disemboweling sinners, and leaving blood and flesh in disarray.

Mountains of blades and forests of swords stood erect, long blades and sword edges flipping and falling, separating sinners’ limbs from their bodies, their skin and flesh rotting. Tens of thousands of iron arrows fired simultaneously, piercing directly through sinners’ bodies, and pinning them to the scorching iron walls. Some sinners tried to escape while crying and howling, but they were surrounded by boundless seas of fire, the great flames burning fiercely, imprisoning them in the terrifying Avici Hell.

On burning iron beds, sinners wore shackles, suffering unbearably, while iron nails pierced through their chests and backs. On nearly melting wax blocks, sinners’ feet slowly charred and dissolved along with the wax until nothing remained of their corpses.

Yakshas and Rakshasas wielded burning iron pestles and axes, smashing sinners’ heads and piercing their intestines.

A cacophony of miserable screams and howls.

This was his destination.

Endless suffering, endless torment.

Tanmoluojia followed the sinners walking in darkness. As iron crossbows, snow blades, iron fire, and sword edges fell, the sinners fled in all directions, but he stood motionless.

Suddenly, a beam of light shone down from above, the diffusing smoke dispersed, and the broken flesh and corpses, howling sinners, and surging sea of fire grew more distant from him.

He found himself in brilliant golden light, dazzling radiance before his eyes.

In the seven-treasure pond, the water rippled brilliantly, precious lights shone in all directions, golden trees with silver leaves, pearls and precious jewels, palace halls, and pavilions stretched endlessly, floating in the air, magnificent. Buddha sat on a lotus throne, surrounded by Bodhisattvas carefully listening.

Heavenly banners and pennants flew everywhere, colorful clouds encircled, celestial music drifted, mandala flowers scattered, and flying celestials holding fresh flowers soared among them, dancing in the air.

Solemn, wonderful, and pure – the World of Ultimate Bliss.

A Bodhisattva wearing a flower crown, holding a long banner, standing on a precious lotus, rode clouds descending from heaven and gently pointed a finger at Tanmoluojia.

“You have walked through the mortal world, seen the Avici Hell, and witnessed Amitabha Buddha’s Pure Land. Return to our Buddhist gate, and you can achieve liberation, breaking free from the cycle of rebirth, having no more suffering, only ultimate bliss.”

The Sanskrit sounds rang out, deafening.

Tanmoluojia came to his senses, pressed his palms together, and gazed thoughtfully at the ethereal, beautiful Pure Land visible through the clouds.

The Bodhisattva’s voice thundered through the clouds: “Foolish child, what still holds you back?”

Tanmoluojia raised his eyes, his jade-green eyes showing neither joy nor sorrow.

What held him back?

His brief life flowed like rippling water, enveloping him within it.

The scene before him suddenly changed, and he saw a cold, dark prison cell where his younger self sat on a worn meditation cushion, reading Buddhist scriptures by the light of a tiny lamp.

A beam of cold light fell from above, and he raised his head, moonlight like silver reflecting in his eyes.

In these chaotic times of displacement, all beings suffer. He would do everything in his power to pacify the chaos. If I don’t enter hell, who will?

His small self gazed up at that noble moon and solemnly declared.

He slowly grew up.

Tanmoluojia studied Buddhist scriptures and maneuvered among the noble families, making the Zhang family relax their restrictions on him. Sudan Gu endured torment, practicing martial arts diligently.

When the Northern Rong army threatened the borders, the noble families abandoned their responsibilities and fled the city. The warrior monks loyal to the royal family took the opportunity to rescue him from the punishment hall.

The night wind howled as he looked back from horseback, seeing the Holy City standing in the night, hearing the desperate cries of citizens who couldn’t escape in time. Once Wahan Khan entered the city, these citizens would become wronged spirits under the Northern Rong cavalry’s hooves.

“Go back.”

He turned his horse around, holding prayer beads, speaking softly.

The yellow sand stretched endlessly as he used strategy to greatly defeat the Northern Rong army that outnumbered his forces many times over. Wahan Khan not only suffered a crushing defeat but nearly lost his life, ordering a humiliating retreat.

He reined in his horse at the front of the formation, his kasaya robe flying in the wind.

The warrior monks, imperial guards, and citizens knelt respectfully at his feet. At that moment, he reclaimed the authority of the sovereign.

Chima was overjoyed, leading her guards to storm into the Zhang family compound, capturing several dozen members of the family. She took them to the square where the previous queen had died and beheaded them one by one. She became carried away with killing, unwilling to spare even distantly related Zhang family members.

He stopped her, making her release the innocent Zhang family members who had been implicated.

Chima became hysterical, screaming, cursing, and condemning. Afterward, whenever she saw him, she would mock him: “You’ve studied Buddhism and completely cooled your heart, you have no worldly feelings at all, you’re indifferent, heartless, cold-blooded! Indeed a monk, Luojia, you’re destined to be alone in this life!”

Sudan Gu killed enemies in battle while the Buddha’s son intimidated the noble families. He walked among blood pools and flowers, skin split and flesh torn, trudging on alone.

He had his path; he didn’t need others’ understanding or approval.

The noble families were unwilling to be suppressed, paying lip service while harboring different intentions, being honey-mouthed but dagger-hearted. The court was full of intrigue, with noble families scheming against each other while the kingdom faced both internal and external troubles. Meanwhile, the Northern Rong continued to grow stronger. Wahan Khan made good use of Haidu Aling, who was brave and skilled in battle. Although lacking in scholarship, Haidu Aling was accomplished in both civil and military affairs, daring to use unusual strategies, expanding territory for the Northern Rong, and repeatedly achieving remarkable feats.

As long as he lived, Wahan Khan couldn’t take the Holy City, but he had been backlashed by his martial arts technique several times and was near the end of his strength. He had to be carried by guards to attend dharma assemblies. Meanwhile, Haidu Aling was at the height of his power. Once Haidu Aling succeeded to the position of Northern Rong Khan, the kingdom would be in danger.

He wanted to lead troops to attack the Northern Rong before Haidu Aling could take power, weakening their military strength to give the kingdom a chance to catch its breath.

The ministers strongly opposed this, looking down on and being hostile to tribal cavalry, unwilling to cooperate with tribal troops. He was exhausted and unable to organize a major campaign in the short term.

Soon after, terrible news arrived: Haidu Aling had serious conflicts with the princes and, taking advantage of Wahan Khan’s laxity, led troops to bloodily clear out the royal tent, killing Wahan Khan and several of his sons before being elected as the new Khan.

He sat in the Buddhist hall, turning his prayer beads, letting out a small sigh, and left his final edict.

Haidu Aling became the ruler of the Northern Rong and quickly gathered forces to launch a surprise attack on the kingdom.

This time, Haidu Aling would not easily withdraw his troops.

He was already barely breathing, knowing his days were numbered. He ordered Bisuo and the others to leave the kingdom while he stayed behind to defend the city, buying more time for the citizens to evacuate.

One more person who escaped was one more life saved.

As for himself, he had long seen his end.

Bisuo wept, wanting to take him away, but he just smiled slightly.

“I am the King of the Holy City, the Buddha’s son of the royal court.”

“Go now, escort the women and children away. You are the commander of the imperial guard; your duty is to protect the people.”

Bisuo wept uncontrollably.

His face showed not a ripple of emotion.

The Northern Rong cavalry was unstoppable, and their siege engines were even more formidable. Row upon row of catapults hurled huge stones into the city, the thunderous crashes shaking the heavens as stone fragments rained down like a downpour, shattering roof tiles and collapsing buildings.

He sat cross-legged before the Buddha statue, completely exhausted, held up only by willpower, like a walking corpse with only a shell remaining.

Outside the hall, battle cries split the clouds and cracked stone. The prayer beads in his hand were cold, the Buddha statue solemn and dignified.

He sat upright, slowly closing his eyes.

He was tired.

But he didn’t fall.

In the cold, long night, he achieved nirvana in the Buddha hall, guarding the Holy City until death.

Never having relaxed for a moment since birth, even in death he dared not slacken.

Outside the hall was a chorus of wailing.

Following his instructions, the warrior monks didn’t announce his death. Haidu Aling still held some fear and wariness toward him and didn’t rashly attack the city, allowing the Holy City to hold out for some time longer.

But after too many days without him appearing, Haidu Aling finally discovered the truth and attacked the Holy City.

When the Northern Rong cavalry charged into the royal temple and saw that corpse still sitting upright before Buddha, they were shocked beyond measure.

And he, floating in mid-air, watched his brief life flash before his eyes, expressionless.

The Bodhisattva’s voice sounded in his ear: “Life, death, and nirvana are like yesterday’s dream. Foolish child, come with me, and you can be free from the suffering of the five aggregates, achieving emptiness of the four elements and attaining supreme truth.”

Tanmoluojia raised his eyes, looking at the brilliant and magnificent pavilions and halls in the clouds, saying nothing.

The Bodhisattva furrowed their brows in anger: “Foolish child, do you wish to fall into Avici Hell and endure endless torment?”

Tanmoluojia looked down at his feet, where in the invisible abyss, sinners suffered torment against iron walls.

The Bodhisattva grew more imposing, waving their banner, instantly causing thunder to roll across the sky.

“I am the Guide Bodhisattva, showing you the path to rebirth. Foolish child, come with me now!”

Tanmoluojia closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his gaze was as cold as snow, without a trace of mortal feeling, and he stepped forward to follow the Bodhisattva.

…

Beneath his feet, winds and clouds surged. From the rolling dust of the mortal world, suddenly a voice called out to him from far away.

Above his head, the Guide Bodhisattva shouted in anger, their banner flying wildly.

That voice carried on the wind was weak and unclear, like the beating of butterfly wings or a gentle breeze, unable to raise even a ripple, yet it called out firmly and persistently.

“Luojia… Luojia…”

Tanmoluojia stopped and looked back.

He felt he had forgotten something.

The beautiful chanting, Buddha’s dharma debate with the Bodhisattvas, and the Guide Bodhisattva’s urgent, enticing calls echoed through heaven and earth. That weak voice drifted over tremblingly, catching him, pulling at him, his heart feeling neither sorrow nor joy.

That voice rang out again, mixed with faint crying sounds that could break one’s heart.

“Luojia… you promised me, I’m waiting for you…”

This voice was utterly familiar.

In an instant, a fine, dense pain spread through Tanmoluojia’s heart.

Princess, don’t cry.

He looked down at his wrist, where a red hair ribbon was tightly wound.

His life should have been walked alone, just as the Bodhisattva had shown him – living alone, dying alone.

But there was one person who had crossed thousands of mountains and waters to come to his side, to weather storms with him.

He wanted to live, wanted to wake up every day to see her bright smile.

In an instant, howling winds swept in, and he saw the Holy City, half in ruins and half standing tall and magnificent. Snow fell in flurries, and the Buddhist temple stood in the snow, grand and solemn. Outside the temple was a sea of black – for ten li along the streets and throughout the squares, people knelt, bowing toward the royal temple, faces streaked with tears, calling out his dharma name.

“King, come back!”

“King, don’t abandon us!”

“Take our lives in exchange for the King’s!”

“Let the King return!”

Their desperate cries were scattered by the wind.

Tanmoluojia passed through the weeping crowd, through the great hall where bells and drums rang amid sounds of mourning, through the silent imperial guards and warrior monks kneeling on the steps, through the brightly lit stone caves, and back to the punishment hall where he had been imprisoned as a child.

He saw a figure from behind.

She was sprawled on the meditation cushion, tightly holding a blood-covered, rigid man, tears falling like rain.

“Luojia… I’m waiting for you…”

She lowered her head, her forehead against his, calling out again and again.

Tears fell from her eyes, but she didn’t sob out loud, speaking softly and gently: “Luojia, I’m waiting for you.”

Tanmoluojia’s heart twisted in pain.

All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, dew, and like lightning.

Life is like morning dew, so once he missed her, it would be for eternity. He had to hold tight to this life, had to live on properly.

When the heart achieves sudden enlightenment, one sees one’s true nature.

Suddenly, countless prayer flags rustled in the wind.

The illusions in the clouds instantly turned to dust, the wonderful Sanskrit chanting receding like the tide.

A far-reaching voice rang out in mid-air, majestic and overwhelming.

“All conditioned phenomena are impermanent, this is the law of arising and ceasing. When arising and ceasing cease, tranquil extinction is bliss… One extinction is one life, life continues endlessly, this is the law of arising and ceasing. First destruction then establishment, placed in death’s ground then rebirth…”

The voice gradually drifted away.

Tanmoluojia could no longer hear the later words. In his eyes remained only that tear-stained face as he raised his hand to gently brush away a teardrop sparkling on her curled eyelashes.

“Don’t cry.”

She should smile more; he liked to see her smile.

Yaoying froze.

Warm breath fell on her face, cold fingers brushed across her cheek. She looked up as a cool kiss landed on her tear-filled, bloodshot eyes.

She stood motionless, their gazes meeting.

He looked at her, his lips curving slightly as he raised his hand to hold her neck, his forehead against hers. “Mingyuenu, I’ve returned.”

Yaoying couldn’t believe it, staring at him blankly.

The next moment, she awakened as if from a dream, tears rushing forth as she tremblingly threw herself into his arms, holding him tight.

“You deceived me!”

She finally cried out loud.

Tanmoluojia held Yaoying tightly, lowering his head to kiss her hair, her brow, her nose tip, and finally capturing her lips, parting her teeth.

Their tongues entwined, their breaths mingling.

She trembled all over; he was covered in blood. The two clung tightly together, embracing and connecting, falling onto the meditation cushion, wanting to meld into each other’s bodies.

Swallowing, sucking, sweeping through every corner, claiming her sweetness until she was dizzy and overwhelmed. Only then did he release her soft, sweet lips to kiss away the tears at the corners of her eyes.

Footsteps suddenly approached.

Li Zhongqian, Bisuo, and Yuanjue hearing voices inside, rushed into the punishment hall and saw the awakened Tanmoluojia, dumbfounded.

After a while, they came to their senses, overjoyed, reciting Buddha’s name, trembling with excitement.

“Quickly! Summon the physicians!”

Several physicians hurriedly arrived and, seeing Tanmoluojia were equally astounded, unable to believe their eyes.

Yuanjue wiped his tears while pushing them forward, urging: “Quickly examine him, the King has awakened!”

The physicians recovered their senses, rushing to Tanmoluojia’s side, tremblingly checking his pulse, lifting his robes to examine the bleeding wounds on his body.

Yaoying moved back to let Mondatipo approach, but suddenly her hand was gripped tightly and a force pulled her back.

Tanmoluojia held her hand, his face still bloodied, his eyes dark: “Don’t go anywhere, stay with me.”

Joy nearly overflowed in Yaoying’s heart as she sat still beside him.

“How long was I unconscious?”

Tanmoluojia asked.

The physicians exchanged glances before saying: “Your Majesty, you were unconscious for two full days and nights.”

…

Two days ago, when Tanmoluojia was dispersing his power, his muscles suddenly bulged, his true qi surging as his internal energy and blood reversed course, causing several places on his body to bleed unstoppably. Yuanjue was greatly alarmed and hurriedly called for help. Bisuo and the warrior monks rushed over, intending to help him circulate and disperse the energy, but before they could get close, they were injured by the true qi and fell, coughing blood.

Though his skin split and flesh tore, Bisuo still forced himself to move forward. Yaoying, hearing the commotion, also rushed in.

Tanmoluojia raised his head, his jade-green eyes sweeping over her.

The next moment, blood flowed from his seven apertures, and he never opened his eyes again.

Several physicians took turns checking his pulse, confirming repeatedly that he was hanging on by his last breath, beyond medical help, likely to pass at any moment.

Outside the hall, crying shook the heavens.

As he had previously instructed, everyone withdrew, leaving only Yaoying to watch by his side, accompanying him through his final moments.

Li Zhongqian, fearing Yaoying would be overcome with grief, tried to take her to rest, but she refused to leave. She stayed by his side almost without eating, drinking, or sleeping, feeding him medicine and cleaning his body. When he couldn’t swallow anything, she would part his lips and feed the medicine to him drop by drop.

No one had imagined that Tanmoluojia would awaken.

…

Tanmoluojia looked at Yaoying.

She bit her lip, anxiously listening to the physicians speak, her eyes swollen and red, her nose also red, her face haggard, tears not yet dry.

For these two days, she had kept watch over him like this, calling his name.

He had made her worry.

He pulled her close, kissing her tired eyes and brows.

The physicians lowered their heads, Bisuo’s face was full of smiles, and Yuanjue’s face turned crimson as he turned away.

Only Li Zhongqian gave a cold laugh and rolled his eyes – he had thought Tanmoluojia would certainly die and had already arranged for horses and men to return to Gaochang.

“How is it? Has his pulse changed?”

Yaoying gently pushed Tanmoluojia away, anxiously asking the physicians.

The physicians frowned deeply, exchanging glances before saying: “The King’s pulse remains unchanged… it’s still the same floating pulse as before and after dispersing his power. Logically, after dispersing his power, the King’s pulse should have returned to normal…”

Yaoying quickly asked: “Is this good or bad?”

The physician shook his head, his expression grave: “We have never seen such a pulse. When the King dispersed his power, blood flowed from his seven apertures, which should have been caused by his body being unable to withstand the martial technique, causing his energy and blood to flow backward. But for the King to awaken after two days of unconsciousness is truly inconceivable…”

Bisuo frowned and said: “If it had returned to normal, the King wouldn’t have awakened. Since the King could awaken, it must be a good sign.”

Some nodded, while others remained worried.

Yaoying’s heart rose again in anxiety.

Tanmoluojia remained silent, then flipped his wrist, sending out a palm force that made Bisuo stagger and step backward.

Everyone froze, crying out in surprise.

Bisuo’s eyes widened.

Tanmoluojia still had his power!

The physicians looked at each other in bewilderment.

After dispersing his power, Tanmoluojia shouldn’t have had any internal force left. This time when he dispersed his power, the reaction had been so violent that blood flowed from his seven apertures – his martial arts should have been destroyed. How could he still force Bisuo back with one palm?

Yuanjue, pale and trembling, said: “Did the power dispersal fail? Does it need to be done again?”

The King had already bled from seven apertures – how could he endure another attempt?

Tanmoluojia shook his head, looking at Mondatipo: “I feel my blood channels are flowing smoothly, and I no longer need to constantly suppress my energy and blood. For now, there’s no need to disperse the power again.”

Mondatipo checked several acupoints around his body and nodded.

A light flashed in the physician’s eyes: “Could it be that the King accidentally discovered the true method to control the martial technique?”

At these words, joy lit up everyone’s faces.

“I heard that when the King returned to the Holy City, he was emotionless and desireless, very similar to General Saisanger before he went berserk,” Mondatipo said slowly. “Perhaps the King truly was close to going berserk then, and the slightest mistake would have caused his energy to scatter and lead to death. But the King took large amounts of pills, forcibly controlling it, surviving that crisis. With his strong will, he endured all these days, and the pills merged with his blood channels, happening to truly control the martial technique.”

The physicians showed various expressions as they withdrew to discuss quietly.

“The King has practiced this martial technique since childhood, able to endure what others cannot. He likely mastered the technique unconsciously. In the end, the technique becoming uncontrollable was both a deadly crisis and an opportunity for life.”

“We can’t conclude yet, let’s wait and see.”

“Regardless, the King’s awakening is already a sign of improvement.”

They were all speaking Sanskrit, which Yaoying couldn’t understand. She anxiously watched them, her face tense, her heart rising and falling.

She felt warmth on the back of her hand.

Tanmoluojia lowered his head, holding her hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m much better, truly.”

He smiled slightly, “I’m not deceiving you.”

From the moment he kissed her at the city gate, he had told himself again and again that he must live.

Yaoying thought of how he had been barely breathing these past two days, her heart feeling cut by knives as she gently embraced him, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat.

She had thought he would really leave, never speak to her again.

Although the physicians hadn’t reached any conclusions in their discussion, the news of Tanmoluojia’s awakening spread. People were uncertain but their sorrow turned to joy. The common people outside the royal temple continuously chanted Buddha’s name, kowtowing to thank the divine beings for protecting their king.

Yuanjue went to prepare hot water and fresh clothes, while Li Zhongqian and Bisuo led the physicians out.

Only Yaoying and Tanmoluojia remained in the punishment hall.

“Are you alright now?”

Yaoying held Tanmoluojia, her swollen eyes fixed unblinkingly on him.

Tanmoluojia’s heart trembled with her eyelashes, “Really.”

He felt much better.

Yaoying buried her face in his chest, continuing to listen to his heartbeat.

Steady, composed, beating thump-thump.

He lowered his head, holding her tightly, his fingers threading through her hair, kissing her head.

The cell was where he had grown up, alone and isolated then. Now she was by his side, and this place was also where his new life began.

The dim candlelight gently enveloped them as they nestled quietly together.

…

The warrior monks withdrew, and the physicians checked his pulse again before retiring to the outer hall for a heated discussion.

Master Tiduo pondered for a while, then sought an audience while holding half a damaged scripture.

These scriptures had been burned after General Saisanger’s death, with no copies remaining. This time when the palace was destroyed, craftsmen repairing the tunnels accidentally discovered a hidden layer behind a Buddha shrine wall. When they dug open the murals, they found several hundred volumes of unburned scriptures inside, including this half-volume recording of General Saisanger’s deeds. Mondatipo and others had read this scripture but found no useful records.

Tanmoluojia had washed and was bandaging his wounds.

Master Tiduo opened the scripture: “Your Majesty, I once heard that before General Saisanger passed away, he recited a verse: ‘When arising and ceasing cease, tranquil extinction is bliss.’ At that time, the temple master thought General Saisanger had developed a death wish due to his family’s death, which was why he recited this verse before taking his own life. These days, following Princess Wenzhao’s instructions, the monks have examined many sealed classics, and this verse also appears in the palm-leaf sutras recording the martial technique.”

He sighed deeply.

“Your Majesty, having survived this deadly crisis, you must have gained some insight.”

Tanmoluojia remembered his realization in the dream and nodded: “I did gain insight in my dream – placed in death’s ground then rebirth, one extinction is one life.”

Only by enduring repeated deadly crises could one gain a chance at life.

Master Tiduo was stunned for a long while, seeming to both cry and laugh.

General Saisanger might have broken through the martial technique’s limitations before his death, but having lost his family and mistakenly killed innocents, he had no heart to comprehend it and ended his life. Afterward, all records were burned, and no one else in the world could understand the technique.

They had forced General Saisanger to his death and had nearly forced the King to his death as well.

“Buddha is compassionate. What’s recorded in this scripture is not Buddhist sutras, but rather the inner cultivation method that can control the martial technique. Your Majesty can study this, and henceforth when extremity turns to prosperity, you will no longer worry about the martial technique’s backlash.”

Master Tiduo pressed his palms together and bowed to Tanmoluojia, leaving the scripture behind as he walked out step by step, leaning on his staff.

…

Having found the true inner cultivation method by coincidence, everyone was overjoyed.

Yaoying had people take the scripture to the monks for copying to prevent its loss.

Tanmoluojia’s lips curved slightly: “No need, I’ve memorized it all.”

Yaoying said: “Still, we should make several copies.”

After speaking, she carefully examined his complexion – she had just been discussing his injuries with Mondatipo.

Tanmoluojia stretched out his arms to embrace her. “Have you seen the Queen’s crown?”

Yaoying was startled, then smiled and shook her head: “No.”

These days she had been so worried, how could she have had the heart to look at such things?

“Take a good look,” his voice came from above, carrying his usual coolness plus a hint of a gentle smile. “If you don’t like it, have the craftsmen modify it.”

Yaoying smiled: “Can it be changed so freely?”

Tanmoluojia nodded: “As long as you like it. You are my bride.”

Yaoying held him, hearing his steady heartbeat and gentle voice, feeling his light kisses falling on her hair, her heart full of tenderness, like spring water flowing gently.

Suddenly, an inexplicable pain twisted in her chest, and a sweet, metallic taste rose.

Yaoying was startled and with a “wa” sound, coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood.

An ominous feeling filled her entire body.

Tanmoluojia froze as warm wetness spread across his chest.

He looked down.

Yaoying’s face was pale, her whole body trembling, her lips stained crimson with blood.

“Mingyuenu!”

He remained unmoved even if a mountain collapsed before he heard his voice almost break.

Yaoying continued to tremble as vitality drained from her body bit by bit.

The color drained from Tanmoluojia’s face as he held her tightly.

Footsteps sounded at the door as Li Zhongqian rushed in.

“What happened?”

He rushed to the meditation cushion, shocked, prying open Tanmoluojia’s hands. “Mingyuenu!”

Yaoying’s chest twisted with extraordinary pain, her whole body aching as she struggled to open her eyes, her gaze passing over Tanmoluojia and Li Zhongqian’s faces.

“Luojia… Brother…”

She wanted to tell them, wanted to let them not be afraid, that perhaps like before, she just needed to sleep and would be fine…

A deep weariness welled up.

This time was much more painful and intense than the previous times.

“…It’s nothing, I’ll be better in a few days…”

Her lips trembled as she slowly closed her eyes.

The hand tightly gripping Tanmoluojia’s sleeve fell limply.

“Mingyuenu!”

Li Zhongqian shouted.

Tanmoluojia remained motionless as the night wind blew through the lattice into the punishment hall, bone-chillingly cold. He was covered in blood, like an asura.

The night was deep as snow fell silently.