Chapter Seventy-Five: Dark Clouds

Jiangzhou, the Wu Residence, was bustling with visitors. Whether it was the main entrance, the side gate, or even the rear door, a long line of people stood upright along the road, awaiting an audience. Those waiting were not ordinary citizens; each was either an official or a noble, the kind who, in other places, would command respect and awe. But here, outside the Wu Residence, they could only stand humbly, silent and still. Not one allowed their servants to attend them; instead, they let the sun beat down upon them, sweating profusely to demonstrate their “sincerity.”

From time to time, their eyes would steal glances toward the black-clad guards at the gates, but once they caught sight of them, their heads would quickly drop, not daring to confront those fierce eyes. Four black-clad guards stood at the main entrance, each imposing and muscular, their presence chilling, standing straight as spears, like statues unmoved by wind or sun. Within the main hall, two rows of these guards stood sentinel, making the defense even more formidable.

Inside, Wu Wencai was entertaining a commander and a monk robed in crimson, drinking tea and conversing. The commander was not particularly tall, his face broad and square, with thick brows and small eyes beneath, so narrow they appeared almost as slits. Though they chatted idly over tea, he still wore armor and a steel helmet adorned with a red plume, marking his extraordinary status.

Commander Zhou, the man in charge of escorting the Buddhist monks into Jiangzhou this time, was known simply as “Ba,” with the nickname “Zhou the Thousand Butcher.” He had served among the black-clad guards for ten years, infamous for his violent temper—if a chicken displeased him, he would not hesitate to throw a knife and behead it.

The monk, wrapped in a solemn red robe, had a round face, large ears, full lips, and a nose like a hanging bell—his appearance was one of blessed fortune. Calm and composed in his seat, he seemed very much the image of an enlightened master.

Wu Wencai rose to pour him tea, speaking reverently, “Master Liokong, please enjoy your tea.”

Master Liokong smiled and pressed his palms together, “Thank you, Young Master Wu.”

Wu Wencai’s face glowed with pride. “Master, you are too kind. This journey, leading your disciples tirelessly to Jiangzhou to preach and enlighten the people, deserves our gratitude. I must thank you on behalf of the people of Jiangzhou.”

Master Liokong chuckled, “You exaggerate, young master. Since entering the Buddhist path, I have vowed to enlighten all beings, to lead them from suffering to salvation.”

Wu Wencai offered more compliments, eager to please.

Commander Zhou suddenly asked, “Young master, is there any good place near Jiangzhou for hunting? Staying in the city is tiresome and dull.”

Master Liokong’s brows furrowed slightly, though he remained silent; within Buddhist precepts, killing is forbidden. But Commander Zhou, a fierce warrior from the army, would not be bound by Buddhist rules, nor could anyone hope to restrain him.

Wu Wencai replied, “Commander Zhou, if you seek a good hunting ground, there is indeed a place nearby called Maple Mountain. Its back slopes are high and densely forested, home to many wild beasts—wild boar, leopards, and even tigers.”

Commander Zhou was delighted, his thick brows rising. “Excellent! Tomorrow I shall take a few attendants and hunt in Maple Mountain.”

Wu Wencai quickly said, “Commander Zhou, if you do not mind, I would be honored to guide you.”

Though he was the son of a high official, Wu Wencai held no power himself. Before the commander of the black-clad guards, who wielded life-and-death authority, he had to humble himself to forge ties. Not only would an official’s son behave so; even his father would bow and scrape before Commander Zhou.

The black-clad guards occupied a privileged position, directly under imperial command, entirely above the ranks of civil and military officials.

Master Liokong suddenly interjected, “Commander, young master, what if I were to join you tomorrow?”

Commander Zhou responded with surprise, “Master, do you wish to accompany me and perform rites for the souls of the wild beasts?”

Master Liokong shook his head. “To be frank, this time I have been honored by imperial favor to hold the Grand Dharma Assembly in Jiangzhou, but I have another wish—to establish a temple here, to gather followers, so as to better spread the Dharma and guide all beings.”

Commander Zhou let out a strange laugh, “Master, shouldn’t you build your temple in a busy part of the city? Why seek a site in the wilds, where no one goes?”

Master Liokong pressed his palms together, “Commander, you may not know—Buddhist temples cannot be built just anywhere; they must be founded on spiritually auspicious ground, so that the Buddha may descend and bless the site.”

“As you wish,” Commander Zhou replied dismissively, weary of such preachings. He practiced martial arts and served only the emperor, killing without a second thought. Whether Daoist or Buddhist, he considered them all superstitions. To him, Master Liokong’s words were nothing but feigned compassion. If the master dared preach to him, he would not hesitate to silence him with a blade before the wooden fish could sound.

The prospect of hunting tomorrow thrilled Wu Wencai. The recent days of busyness had worn him out, and now he could ride out for some enjoyment.

The thrill of the hunt, after all, sometimes surpassed even the pleasures of the brothel. It was also a golden opportunity to cultivate good relations with Commander Zhou and Master Liokong—an opportunity not to be missed.

...

The Grand Dharma Assembly in Jiangzhou was in full swing.

Each day, thousands of people came to listen. The bell tolled softly, the wooden fish echoed rhythmically, and the chanting, with its melodic cadence, seemed to carry the listeners to the legendary Western Pure Land, bathed in auspicious light, transformed as if reborn from the ashes.

With each thought, faith was born.

Unknowingly, the people became believers, accepting the doctrines of reincarnation and suffering.

Such an event prompted the authorities to order a school holiday in support.

Wang Fu had attended the assembly once, but after that first experience, he swore never to return. To him, it was pure torture—this talk of suffering now and bliss in the next life, he scoffed, nothing compared to the carefree joys he could seize in the present.

He could not accept the teachings of the Dharma, and so he avoided the crowds, preferring instead to frequent the brothels, listen to the lute, and let beauties serenade him—what greater joy could there be?

Originally, Wang Fu wanted to invite Chen Jianchen to share in his pleasures, but when he visited the Chen family, Lady Mo informed him that Chen Jianchen had gone traveling for study and was not at home.

Wang Fu was taken aback. Traveling for study? In just a few days, what could he possibly be studying?

So-called study tours were a tradition among scholar candidates. The sages said: “Read ten thousand books, walk ten thousand miles.” That was the idea, though by now such journeys were less valued—too arduous and dusty.

For Wang Fu, if he were to go on a study tour, he would simply tour the brothels. Time waits for no one; flowers must be plucked while they bloom. Just this afternoon the sun was shining, and by dusk, clouds gathered, promising rain...