Family Cultivation: I Become a Mirror

Chapter 434 362: Aspect of Compassion (2)

On the high seat of the grand hall sat a black-robed monk, cradling a belly as swollen as if six months pregnant, his face gleaming with oil, mouth wide in hearty laughter, pausing from time to time to suck in a few deep breaths.

"Is the Mage satisfied?"

From among the Yu Family, the eldest standing foremost stepped forward with a genial smile, his voice hoarse as he asked, and saw that Murong Xia grinned slyly in response and replied:

"Satisfied! Utterly satisfied! Your family is ever the most generous and openhanded. To receive sixteen thousand at the outset—truly, only you of the Yu Family possess such wisdom, unshackled by obsession with mortal flesh."

"Hahaha, as long as the Mage is satisfied! As long as the Mage is satisfied!"

The solitary wind wandered through the empty streets, whistling as it went. The old master of the Yu Family chuckled, well pleased in his heart, silently thinking:

'This is a man soon to become a Maha! If not for the clandestine trade between the Daoist and Buddhist ways, how could our Yu Family ever have courted such a figure? Now, while he has yet to attain full Maha, earning a favor at such a moment—is this not pure delight?'

And so his kindly smile grew even warmer as he pressed on:

"Is this city sufficient for your lordship's needs? If not, I shall find some with even greater fortune, cleanse them thoroughly, and send them into the Mage's belly to enjoy bliss."

The monk lay half-reclined on a golden throne, humming and muttering, his belly round as one six months with child. Across the exposed skin, purple and blue streaks marred his flesh. He laughed:

"No need! No need! With one hundred sixty-seven thousand five hundred fifty-six souls, the tally is complete. Any more, and I fear my Blessed Land might burst from excess."

He groaned twice, as if discomfort twisted in his gut. After several breaths, he continued:

"Since I walk the Joyful Chan, I shall not tread the feeble road of mere Compassion. Now, on the eve of Enlightenment, soon I will attain Maha! Thereafter, I shall reclaim the cultivation of my past lives and ascend yet higher!"

This mage was indeed Murong Xia, the very one who had journeyed through the Li Family years past. For over a decade he had wandered, eating as he walked, and now had trekked by foot to Linghai County, seated at the place of honor, smacking his lips, loudly proclaiming:

"The old monk is about to attain enlightenment! The old monk is about to attain enlightenment!"

The Yu Family, of course, hastened to offer congratulations, when suddenly blood began to stream from beneath Murong Xia. He twisted about, as if adjusting his posture, and cried out:

"Yee!"

"Bang!"

His great belly exploded with a thunderous sound. Wafts of exotic fragrance twisted upward, beams of colored light flared out. From within his abdomen came now the whistling of wind, the indulgent sounds of flutes and strings, the laughter of men and women, young and old—all at once thunderous at the ear.

From amidst the oozing blood and viscera, a babe leapt from Murong Xia's belly, and met the wind to grow, in a blink becoming as seventeen or eighteen years of age, neither male nor female, countenance both effeminate and compassionate. Before and behind sprouted six arms apiece, each grasping a magic artifact.

The figure's body was dusted in golden-pink powder, and wherever he moved, the dust pattered down with a rustling sound, transforming upon touching the ground into children—large and small—who cheered and scampered wildly about.

The folk of the Yu Family, aghast at this grotesque spectacle, fell into panic, retreating step by step, as the androgynous figure turned, scooped up Murong Xia's limp corpse from the ground, and, as though savoring a fresh cucumber, bit into it four or five times and devoured it whole.

"A fine taste."

Maha's lips were flecked with gore; his form began to swell, growing in moments to the size of a small mountain, blotting out the sky, feet crushing homes and city beneath him. His lips parted slightly, and from them issued a voice both gentle and uncanny:

"I—Murong Xia—today prove the Dao, attaining Nine Lives Maha, connecting to the Aspect of Compassionate Six Realms Guan Shi, grasping Great Divine Power… In seven days, the Dharma Assembly convenes. All fellow Daoists, you are most welcome…"

His voice spread like ripples through water, echoing in the Great Void. Within the Great Void, sounds of celebration resounded; from north and south, cultivators of many sects came to offer their felicitations. Murong Xia stood proud and tall, motionless amidst Linghai County.

Murong Xia's gaze shifted—he was about to deliver a grandiose speech, when suddenly the Great Void before him was forcibly torn asunder. Out of empty space stepped a man in white, a sword in his arms, who stood silently, gazing upon him.

The man's face was shrouded in mist, his features indistinct. Murong Xia's words died unfinished; for a long moment, speech failed him. The merry wishes resounding in the Great Void also faded; all beneath heaven was plunged into a silence profound.

"Sh…Shangyuan…"

On that face of boundless compassion, neither male nor female, terror flitted so violently that it appeared utterly unnatural. Fourteen slender hands hung limp and powerless at his sides.

The Shangyuan Perfected Person merely cradled his sword in silence, his gaze cold upon Murong Xia, and spoke softly:

"Return to Yan Country."

Murong Xia, so domineering but a moment before, now seemed utterly deflated, shrinking until he appeared no more than an ordinary man, and without another word, dove into the Great Void and vanished without a trace.

The Yu Family's survivors still knelt, trembling upon the ground. The Shangyuan Perfected Person spared them not a glance, likewise vanishing into the Great Void, leaving behind only an empty city—and in its streets, two colossal footprints.

"Hoo!"

The Yu Family folk wiped the sweat from their brows, glanced at one another, snorted coldly, and scattered in all directions.

......

Jade Court Mountain.

Li Qinghong had just bid farewell to Li Yuanjiao and cultivated for a time atop Jade Court Peak. Within her, the Long Sky Risky Sparrow was growing restless and irritable, sluggish in cultivation and uneasy at heart.

"How can this be?"

She lowered her spear crosswise, a cloud of doubt rising. She pondered to herself:

"Did some devil cultivator infiltrate the family, or perhaps some place was stained with blood, stirring my Talisman Qi…! It could also be that I haven't had a satisfying spell battle in too long. These years, every clash ended swiftly—three moves, and the matter was settled."

Everyone walks their own path. Li Qinghong was never fated for still, peaceful cultivation—she must contest the Dao with spear and steel, bathe her spear in blood to refine her art. Nearly ten years had passed with her cultivating piecemeal atop Jade Court Mountain; naturally, progress grew ever slower.

"Since offending that demon, I cannot come and go freely in Da Li Mountain. The monsters on Wangyue Lake linger mostly in the dark currents beneath the water—difficult to track or hide from…"

Bound by family duty and unable to roam far, she sat stifled atop Jade Court Mountain, hugging her spear as she watched the rosy dawn, until a commotion reached her ears—the crunch of footfalls on snow resounding close by.

"Aunt!"

Li Xijun strode through the snow, clasped his hands in salute, and reported gravely:

"A monk has come to the lake and set up a hut at the foot of the mountain to cultivate."

"A monk?"

On account of Li Tongya, Li Qinghong loathed monks above all else. Her brows immediately tightened as she gripped her spear, her voice chill:

"What cultivation level?!"

"He seems to be a Buddhist practitioner."

Li Xijun replied, his brows arched in concern and, afraid Li Qinghong might act rashly, quickly added:

"Aunt, for such a practitioner to come south alone, there must be hidden reliance. Please proceed with caution—tempt not danger."

"I know what I'm doing."

Li Qinghong held her spear, her apricot eyes widening slightly as she answered:

"Still, I cannot allow him to sit in glory at our foot. What if he awaits Yuanjiao's return? Send someone to ask why this baldpate has come knocking."

After a pause, Li Qinghong added:

"Does Lijing know? Prepare to… suppress this scoundrel."

"The Family Head is informed."

Li Xijun nodded with understanding. The two reached the Great Formation's array plate. Li Qinghong pressed her slender hand to the plate, and their spiritual senses, aided by the artifact, probed below. Sure enough, nestled in the grass and brush at the mountain's foot sat a Buddhist practitioner.

The monk wore brown robes, wide-sleeved, his scalp marked with discipline scars, his countenance round and eyes small, brow thin. Not exactly ugly—nor did he possess the bearing of someone remarkable.

He sat cross-legged, a Zen staff across his knees, its bronze rings hanging loose, both eyes closed tight.

Li Xijun issued his instructions. Soon, the formation stirred faintly. An Siwei, gun upon his back and his expression wary, stepped forward and in a low voice called out:

"I am Li Family's An Siwei… I greet you, Bhikkhu. What brings you so far to our gates?"

The monk opened his small eyes and replied:

"This humble monk is Kongheng of Yan Country's Liaohe Temple. I wish to meet the Jade Court Peak Master. Might the Daoist relay my request?"

An Siwei, having received Li Xijun's briefing, nodded and asked:

"May I ask what the Master Kongheng seeks? If you could give a hint, I will bring your words up the mountain."

Kongheng bowed his head, voice gentle:

"This humble monk harbors no ill will. It is but the guidance of the Buddhist path, fate's opportunity that brings me so far—and so I await the Peak Master's presence."

An Siwei could not return with nothing; he pressed for more, but the monk's answers varied not by a syllable. At last, he retreated up the mountain and reported all he had heard.

Li Qinghong, who kept little fondness for Buddhist practitioners, shook her head and replied:

"We know not yet who this monk is—no need to beat him to death on sight. Let him wait as he pleases. Also, send someone to the Xiao Family to inquire about this Liaohe Temple and its roots."

Both men replied and departed. Li Qinghong, stymied in her cultivation, withdrew the two Secret Techniques from the Purple Thunder Secret Essence Technique and began to ponder on them in silence.

Several days of silent reading later, An Siwei approached with spear in hand and reported in a low voice:

"Peak Master, at first the man claimed to treat the sick and dispense medicine, but the townsfolk, having once suffered Murong Xia's depredations, remain fearful and avoid him."

"The monk is unconcerned. Now, he simply dwells at the mountain's foot, practicing alone within his hut!"

Li Qinghong put away her Jade Slip and said softly:

"What did the Xiao Family say?"