Chapter 38

The Heavenly Dao was eternal, supreme and solitary. It wouldn’t suddenly turn benevolent just because of a single sentence from Xue Tong. Thus, she could only stand there with a dark expression, grinding her teeth for a moment before regaining her composure. She glanced at Xun Ruosu. “Do you have anything to say?”

After a brief pause, without waiting for Xun Ruosu to respond, Xue Tong continued, “Your head must be made of a bucket—swish it around, and it probably sloshes. Can’t you see that the Heavenly Dao is setting you up?”

Xun Ruosu lowered her gaze, a smile playing on her lips as she watched Xue Tong’s dramatic mood swings from the sidelines. “I see it. But things have come to this point, and I’m the only solution. I can’t just abandon them for my own momentary satisfaction—that’s not my style.”

Xue Tong let out a cold laugh. She turned her gaze, looking Xun Ruosu up and down. “Abandoning them without a care is your true nature. Why humble yourself like that?”

The aura of exclusion and arrogance radiating from her was like a splash of strong liquor sizzling in hot oil, nearly singeing Xun Ruosu’s eyebrows. After her barrage of sarcasm, Xue Tong calmed down first. “Sorry, that wasn’t aimed at you.”

“…” Even the gods and ghosts had been thoroughly cursed out by Xue Tong. With nothing left to say, Xun Ruosu could only look at her and utter an “Oh.”

“Don’t you have any questions for me?” Xue Tong was lecturing again now.

She had always been arrogant her whole life, acting without regard for consequences and speaking without filter, often wounding others in the process. That was why she avoided dealing with the living—they had fragile egos that might shatter. But her erratic ways had their upsides, sparing her most of the nagging troubles that came with overthinking.

Xun Ruosu still watched her quietly, her expression innocent yet infuriating. “Done cursing? Let’s get to business.”

“Can’t do it,” Xue Tong snorted through her nose. “I’ve said all this to tell you it’s tricky. We can still pack up and leave right now without getting involved. Don’t provoke it, don’t touch it. Even if there are consequences, the karma for my suggestion to run will fall on me. If you’re scared…”

She seemed reluctant. “I’ll just undo the Buddhist Seal. It’ll cost me something, but I’m not doing this out of whimsy this time—I can bear it.”

Xue Tong always followed through on her words. She pressed her hand to the Buddhist Seal at her collarbone. The seal resisted the external force, clashing like blade on blade in an instant, sparks of gold and red bursting forth.

Xun Ruosu’s fingertips slipped in. She was careful not to touch Xue Tong’s collarbone, merely pulling her hand away. “If you undo it, I’ll drop dead on the spot and ascend straight to the Western Paradise.”

“…” She had forgotten about that.

“I know this isn’t actually tricky. Earlier, the Bodhisattva Statue blamed me. If not for my negligence, it wouldn’t have to be here or serve as a vessel for karmic obstacles. Those filthy resentments should have flowed to me, but because I failed in my duty, it suffered this tragedy.”

Xun Ruosu had always been eloquent, and even Xue Tong couldn’t always outtalk her.

Unable to win the argument, Xue Tong had no choice but to listen quietly. For a moment, she had the strange illusion that Xun Ruosu was telling her today that she was going to die, her soul scattering across the world without salvation—and that she herself would grant that wish.

It had happened before, so she knew.

“Xue Tong, I am your half-body. I should advance and retreat with you. If your decision brings retribution, there’s no need to kick me out in a hurry. You haven’t asked me yet—how do you know my answer would differ from yours?”

Xun Ruosu’s face was utterly serious. “From now on, any decision you make about me must come after asking me first.”

Xue Tong: “…So, are you willing to pack up and run?”

Xun Ruosu: “No.”

“…” Then why the hell did you say all that?

Xue Tong felt like a total fool just now and contemplated buying a knife later to cut out Xun Ruosu’s tongue while she slept.

“The Heavenly Dao can be ruthless, but if it’s unreasonable, we must contend with it.” Xun Ruosu was still smiling sweetly. From Xue Tong’s gaze, she could probably sense the danger to her tongue, so she spoke carefully, not daring to let her tongue tip peek out and tempt fate.

“Bodhisattva, Zhang Yingniang—the countless souls here in the Ten Thousand People Pit are all innocent. If they miss us, they’ll have to wait another millennium. The human heart will eventually wither… The Ten Thousand People Pit just said its heart is dying. Without exorcism, it will be replaced. Otherwise, all the future troubles will still fall on you.”

“Xue Tong, I’m here today, and there’s a way to resolve this. Next time, if you have to face the fruits of today’s actions alone, won’t it be even harder?”

“Tch,” Xue Tong rubbed her forehead, swamped with worries. “Listen to yourself—it’s so sappy. I’d rather you snap back at me a couple times.”

Today, it’s precisely because you’re here that I’m in a bind. If you weren’t, even if the heavens collapsed, what bind would there be?

Xue Tong sighed unconsciously. Before her lips could droop, two fingers propped them up, forcing a lopsided grin. She raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to Xun Ruosu. “Looking to die?”

“Come on, the work is right in front of us. With your tireless diligence day and night, you shouldn’t be backing out now.” As she spoke, Xue Tong opened her mouth to bite Xun Ruosu’s fingertip, her sharp canine gleaming. A nip would hurt for a long time.

Xun Ruosu thought to pull back but was a step slow. Only when the bone-deep pain registered did she react with a belated, “Ow.”

“…” Flesh and blood were so fragile. Fearing it truly hurt, Xue Tong slowly released her teeth. “Self-inflicted suffering.”

She stared blankly at Xun Ruosu, a shimmering light in her eyes—tender yet not quite gentle. “You really want me to do this?”

Xun Ruosu couldn’t bear seeing her upset; it pricked her heart like countless fine needles. For some inexplicable reason, Xun Ruosu asked one more thing. “Will it hurt you?”

“So what if it does? A thousand, ten thousand people here—even if one isn’t as important as me, or two aren’t—even a million. Would the scales in your heart tip for me?” Xue Tong peered into her eyes. “I know you too well. You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” Xun Ruosu admitted. “But I’ll exhaust every effort to find a compromise. If hurting you can’t be avoided, I’ll take your place. Besides…” Xun Ruosu smiled with downcast eyes. “For some reason, I know deep down that even if you’re willful, spoiled, erratic, and petty sometimes, you don’t need my scales to tip for you.”

“Xue Tong, I may not fully understand you, but I know you’re gentle and resolute, powerful and rational. You don’t crave my indulgence, let alone any sacrifices I make for you. I’ve never dared to underestimate you.”

“Xue Tong, some secrets can’t stay hidden forever. Let them come to light. Don’t carry that burden—it’s not like you.”

“…” After a long while with a stern face, a smile finally broke across Xue Tong’s features. “Don’t talk like we’re old pals.”

She added, “Give me your hand. I’m going to perform the rite.”

“How? With some shaman dance?” Xun Ruosu extended her hand while teasing, only for Xue Tong to yank her arm and pinch a chunk of flesh.

The reason Xue Tong retaliated physically rather than verbally was that Xun Ruosu had unfortunately guessed right—she did indeed need to perform a “shaman dance.”

The movements weren’t exaggerated, nor did she need space to flail about. Xue Tong scooped up a handful of soil from the ground and slowly sprinkled it on Xun Ruosu’s wrist. The soil was dark red; even this small pinch carried deep sins.

At first, Xun Ruosu only felt an itch. As the dirt ran out and Xue Tong grabbed a second handful, her own Buddhist Qi stirred. From the stained spot on her wrist, a strip of yellow silk about ten feet long unfurled, circling around. The yellow silk was translucent, thin as a cicada’s wing. It floated in the air without need for wind beneath it, drawing the karmic obstacles from the entire Ten Thousand People Pit surging toward it.

Xue Tong continued her “shaman dance” beside her. This dance was actually quite beautiful; it was called Striking Bell. In ancient times, it was performed at government offices to summon wronged souls for grievances. Some movements were extremely difficult, originally invented by a Daoist priest. Later, people focused only on the form, simplifying the hard parts. The reviser, noting the emphasis on hand gestures, twisted them into full-body exaggerations—and thus it became a proper shaman dance.

Of course, Xue Tong performed the original version. If she had to go wild-haired and crab-walk in front of Xun Ruosu, she’d probably die of shame on the spot.

The yellow silk grew longer and longer, soon wrapping Xun Ruosu in layer upon layer. Fortunately, it was so thin that despite the wrapping, each layer was spaced half a zhang apart. Black mud speckled it, scattered like countless surnames inscribed upon it.

The Lotus Lantern didn’t contain the true Ten Thousand People Pit. The karmic obstacles here were only the portion trapped in the Jade Bodhisattva Statue, the part that had extinguished its original heart. Even this much was enough to grieve heaven and earth.

Then the yellow silk extended from the Lotus Lantern into reality. The Ten Thousand People Pit was sliced and divided by countless yellow silks, the names etched on them multiplying. In that cramped space, gold and black vied for dominance, chasing and devouring each other. Suddenly, rain began to fall from the sky…

A grand rain of Vedic golden sounds.

Zhong Li clung to the cage opening. Though she obediently stayed inside, the cage’s damage could no longer conceal the young girl’s curious gaze. Behind her, Yuan Jie sat with eyes closed, chanting sutras that merged with the distant bell tolls outside, as if they were in a secluded ancient temple.

Zhong Li had seen countless scenes of exorcising ghosts and subduing demons in her life, but they usually involved one or two spirits. The grandest had been groups of three or five, requiring the whole family to mobilize and sometimes borrow power from ancestors. None had ever carried such majestic Buddhist Qi. By comparison, her past experiences were like tiny tile-roofed sheds before a skyscraper.

The golden raindrops bewitched her. Unknowingly, Zhong Li reached out her hand. Surprisingly, they had substance—icy cold to the touch, with a faint sting. The thrill and novelty of worldly sights in her heart faded, leaving only an indescribable desolation.

Unnoticed, tears streamed down her face.

A staff pressed down on Zhong Li’s forearm, brushing her hand away. “Amitabha. This is the process of soul exorcism to dissolve karmic obstacles—it’s not your turn yet. You’re just a young girl with a long life ahead. Make your karma, go wild—that’s what life is for, getting tangled in your own obstacles.”

Yuan Jie had stood up at some point and was now beside Zhong Li. “But the human heart breeds more than one kind of karmic obstacle. Bearing and dissolving them is no easy task.”